VJ 7 i ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. ill LONDON : PRINTED BY SrOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREKT SQUATIE AND PARLIAMENT STREET LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF KICHAED WHATELY, D. LATE ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. BY E. JANE WHATELY, AUTHOll OF 'ENGLISH SYNONYMS.' :sEW EDITION, IN ONE VOLUME. LONDON : LONGMANS, GKEEN, 1875. AND CO. PREFACE TO THE THIED EDITION. \ The present edition, besides some few contributions from other friends, has one most important one in the shape of a selection from my Father's almost life-long corre- spondence with his old and valued friend Dr. Hawkins, Provost of Oriel. Circumstances, not necessary to detail here, prevented these letters from being made available for the two former editions. A selection from them is now presented to the public for the first time. They are principally from the earlier part of the correspondence, for declining health and a multiplicity of pressing cares so naturally led to the letters in the last few years of my Father's life being fewer, and also more frequently repetitions of what has appeared in other forms. A portion of the matter printed in tlie last edition has been suppressed to make room for w^hat appeared more important. E. J. Whately. il PEEFACE TO THE SECOiVD EDITION. It may be necessary to add a few words in explanation of what has been changed, and what left unchanged, in this Second Edition. For a book published in a smaller and cheaper form, it was important to condense as much as possible ; and therefore a considerable number of Letters on political and other subjects, whose immediate interest has in some degree passed away, have been omitted, as less likely to interest general readers. Those who are desirous of fuller information on these subjects are referred to the larger work. A few additional pages of ' Table Talk,' which have been recently communicated to the Editor, are appended to this edition, to whicli she has added some recollections of her own. The Editor wishes distinctly to state that she is alone responsible for the Letters retained or omitted. February 1868. E. Jane Whatelt. f I I I PEEFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. In bringing the Memoir of my Father before the public I do it with a full consciousness of the disadvantasfes imder which a Biograpliy, compiled by one standing in so near a relation to its subject, must necessarily labour. A portrait taken from so close a point of view, thougli it may contain more of delicate and minute touches than one taken at a distance, can never be so complete as a whole ; and any attempt to keep this circumstance out of sight, by m'iting as a stranger, would have destroyed the truthfulness of the portrait without adding to its completeness. The only way in whicli this disadvantage could be at all obviated, was by leaving the subject of the Memoir, as far as possible, to speak for himself : and although he left neither diary nor autobiogi'aphy, the mass of correspondence in my hands lias enabled me in a considerable measure to effect this object. In the difficult task of supplying the gaps left by the correspondence in literary and political history, &c., I have received most important aid from Herman X PREFACE. 3Iekivale, Esq., to ^Yhose valuable services in revising and preparing the wliole work for the press I am greatly indebted. The additions which he has made to the narrative are distinguished throughout by an asterisk at the beginning and end of each passage. To those kind friends who have contributed portions of correspondence and personal recollections to the work, I desire here to express my most grateful thanks. E. J. Whately. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. 1787-1821. His parentage and birth — Premature development of his tastes for mathematics and castle-bnilding — His school days — Keeps a Com- monplace Book — His absence of mind early displayed — His intel- lectual characteristics — Enters Oriel College, Oxford — Influence of Dr. Copleston — Takes his degrees— His habits of intimacy "wnth his pupils, and early friendships — Eeminiscences of his pupils — Ordained Deacon in 1814, and first public preaching — Bishop Hinds' recollections of Mr. AVhately, and interesting anecdotes — Dialogue in a stage coach with a Roman Catholic farmer — Visits the Continent, and passes the -winter in Portugal with his sisters — Resumes his college duties on his return — His mode of teaching — Reminiscences of the Rev. R, N. Boultbee — A table anecdote. CHAPTER II. 1821-1830. Commencement of his active literary career — A contributor to the ' Encyclopaedia Metropolitana ' — His 'Historic Doubts respecting Napoleon Buonaparte ' and other works — His marriage — Appointed Bampton Lecturer — Removes to Halesworth — Illness of Mrs. Whately — Takes his D.D., and is appointed Principal of Alban Hall — Literary Society at Oxford — Testimony of Dr. Newman — of Dr. Mayo — Instances of his powers of anecdote and repartee — Letter to Dr. Copleston — His plan for educating his children — Sir Robert Peel and Catholic Emancipation — Supports Sir Robert, which leads to a breach with his early friends — Rupture with Dr. Newman — Elected Professor of Political Economy — Passing of the Catholic Emancipation Bill — Interests himself for the re-election of Sir R. Peel— Publishes the 'Errors of Romanism' — Letter on National Distress Xll CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. 1831-1832. PACK His appointment to tlie See of Dublin — Various opinions respecting his elevation — Appears at a Levee -without his Order — Climbing feats of his dog — Dissatisfaction at his elevation — Letter to Lady Mary Shepherd on his imputed Sabellianism — Letter to Bishop of Llandaif on his appointment to the Primacy — Starts for Dublin — Attacked by a Birmingham mob — Narrow escape at Holyhead — State of Protestant Church in Ireland — Question of Tithes — Arrives at Dublin — Enters on his official duties — His hospitable reception — His country-house at Redesdale — Anecdote of his rustic life — His simple tastes and pursuits — Apportions his time — His first Charge, and consequent exposure to public obloquy — Establishment of Na- tional Education system — Renewed hostility to the Archbishop and his measures — Founds a professorship of Political Economy — His weekly levees — Anecdotes of his Confirmation tours — His monthly dinners— Anecdotes of his controversial powers, and of his efforts to suppress mendicancy — Letters to Miss Crabtree — Letter to Mr. Senior on Secondary Punishments — His opinions on Secondary Pun- ishments— ^Letter to Sit T. Denman on same subject. . . o7 CHAPTER IV. 1833-1835. Rev. J. Blanco White resides with the Archbishop, and is appointed tutor to the iVrchbishop's family — Letter to the Provost of Oriel from Mr. B White — Letter to Mr. Badeley on the Clerical Society — Letter to the Howard Society on the penalty of Death — Takes Iiis seat in Parliament — Speeches on Irish Education and Irish Emancipation — Letter to the Provost of Oriel on political and ecclesiastical questions — Retirement of Dr. Hinds, and appointment of Dr. Dickinson as his successor — Associated with Archbishop Murray in Commission of Enquiry on Irish Poor — Establishment of a Divinity College — Letters to and from Dr. Newman respecting their differences of opinion on Church matters — Mr. Blanco White, embracing Socinian views, retires from the Archbishop's family — Grief on this account manifested by the Archbishop, who sub- sequently pensions Mr. White— Letters to Rev. J. Blanco White on his Unitarian views, and consequent secesibion from the Church. . 100 CHAPTER V. 183i%1837. Visits Tiinbridge Wells — Visit of Dr. Arnold — Pressed by Mr. Senior to exchange for an English Bishopric — Letter to Mr. Senior on the subject — His views on the importance of moral over intellectual Education — Letter to Mr. Senior — Letter to Bishop of Llandaff on CONTENTS. Xlll University Examinations — Letter to a clergyman on Religion — Letters to Rev, J. Tyler on Invocation of Saints, &c. — Letter to Bishop of Norwich on Irish Church questions — Letter to Blanco "White, and generous concern for his welfare — Letter to Dr. Dickin- son on Abolition of Superfluous Oaths — Letter to Lord John Russell — Letter to a lady on State of Ireland — Table Talk : on Tractarian- ism— Letter to Mr. Senior on Colonisation — Petition to the Queen on Administration of Oaths by Chancellor of the Order of St. Patrick .129 CHAPTER YI. 1838-1839. Letter to Dr. Arnold on the London University — Revisits Oxford — Letter to Mr. Senior — Letters to Rev. Baden Powell on his work 'Tradition Unveiled' — Letter to Rev. Dr. Dickinson — Starts on Continental tour — Visits the field of Waterloo — Conversation with the King of the Belgians — Letter to Mr. Dickinson on Switzerland and Italy — Makes the acquaintance of M. Sismondi — Letter to Mr. Senior on * Travelling '■ — Disappointed at the failure of his scheme for a new Divinity College — Misrepresentations of the scheme — Returns to Dublin — Letters to Mr. Senior on various subjects — Urged by his friends to attend Parliament — Letter to Miss Crabtree — Madame Fabre translates the ' Lessons on the Evidences of Chris- tianity'— Letter to M. Fabre on the translation .... 157 CHAPTER YII. 1840-1841. Letter to Dr. Hinds on ' Tradition,' &c. — Attends Parliament — Letter to Mr. Senior on his Parliamentary attendance — Letters to Dr. Dickinson — Letter to a clergyman soliciting for a parish — Intro- duced to M. Guizot — ^Hints to Transcendentalists — Visits Tenby — Letter to Dr. Hinds on Church History — Renewed intercourse with M. Sismondi — Letter to Mr. Senior— Letter to Lady Osborne on her praying for the Archbishop — Appointment of Dr. Dickinson to the Bishopric of Meath — Letter to Bishop of Norwich — Letter on the elevation of Dr. Dickinson — Dissolution of Parliament— Letter to Mr. Senior — Letter to Bishop of Norwich — Letter to Dr. Hinds on ' Absolution ' and on Fairy Tales — Letter to Mr. Senior on the merits of two anonymous personages — -Letter to Bishop of Llandaflf — Letter to Miss Crabtree on a mathematical question — Accident to Mrs. AVhately — Letter to Bishop of LlandafF— Letter to Mr. Senior on ' Tract No. 90 ' — Interview with Dr. Pusey — Death of his friend Blanco White — Visits Ems with his family— Letter to Dr. West 183 XIV CONTENTS. CHAPTEE Yin. 1842-1847. PAGE Deaths of Dr. Arnold and Dr. Dickinson — Publication of Dr. Arnold's Sermons, &c. — Appointment of Dr. Hinds to living of Castleknock — Visits Dr. A.'s family — Anecdotes of the Archbishop — ' Life of Blanco AVhite ' — Attends the Parliamentary Session — Letters to Eev. A. P. Stanley and Mrs. Arnold relating to Dr. Arnold's Works — Letter to Lady Osborne — Triennial Visitations of the Archbishop — Conversation vnth. his Clergy on the importance of studying the Irish Language — Spiritualism — Letter on Animal Magnetism — Tribute to Bishop Copleston^ — Letter to same — Anecdote of Mrs. ^\^lately : the poor sick -woman and her cleanliness— The tour to Switzerland — Reminiscences of the visit by Mr. Arnold — Anecdotes of the Archbishop — Distress in Ireland — The Archbishop's munifi- cence— His measures for relief — Attends the Session of 1847 — Letter to Mr. Senior on the distress— Bill for Out-Door Eelief in Ireland — Letter to Mrs. .^nold — Letter on Translation of the Works of George Sand — Formation of the Statistical Society — Interest taken by the Archbishop in the Society 218 CHAPTEE IX. 1848-1851. Marriage of his third Daughter — Letter to Dr. Hinds on Eeligious Difficulties — Pamily Anxieties of the Archbishop — Hlness of his Son — Accompanies his Family to Nice ; leaves them at Paris — Spends part of the Summer vrith. his Family at Cromer — Miss Anna Gurney — His Friendship with Mrs. Hill — Letter to Mrs. Arnold — Extract of a Letter to the Provost of Oriel — Excitement caused by the sub- ject of the Papal Aggression — ' Cautions for the Times ' commenced — Answer to Letter of the Bishop of Oxford on the Papal Aggres- sion— His Suggestions for a Universal Coinage — Father Ignatius — His interview with the Archbishop — Letter to Mrs. Arnold on the State of Ireland — Letter to the same on her Proposal that he should Answer the ' Creed of Christendom ' — Attends the Session, but Irregularly 256 CBLAPTEE X. 1852. Visits England — The Family Circle at Eedesdale — Letter to C. Wale — Letter to Lady Osborne on the ' Sisterhoods ' at Plymouth and Devonport — Letter to Dr. Hinds on Daily Services — Letter to Miss Crabtree — Opening of the Cork Exhibition — Letters to Mrs. Hill — His interest in Protestant Missions in Ireland — Eemarks of a Friend on the Archbishop's Views on Controversial Discussion — Extract from Mr. Senior's Journal 280 CONTENTS. XV * CHAPTER XI. 1853. PAGE Letter to Mr. Senior on Thackeray's Novels — AVithcIraws from the National Education Board — Letter of Condolence to Dr. Hinds — Letter to Mrs. Hill — Visits his Daughter in Cambridgeshire — Letter to .Mrs. Arnold — Letter to Miss Gurney on the Jewish Emancipation Bill — Return to Dublin — Letter to Dr. Daubeny on Botanical Sub- jects— Letter to Miss Crabtree — Publishes the ' Hopeful Tracts ' — Letters to Mrs. Hill — His Inner Life — Persecutions of Protestant Converts in Workhouses— Letter to Mr. Senior — -Letter to Mrs. Arnold — Letter to Dr. Daubeny — Letter to Mr. Senior — Takes a prominent part in the Petition for Registration and Inspection of Nunneries SOI CHAPTER XIL 1854-1855. Letters to Mr. Senior on Thackeray's "Works, &c.— Publishes the ' Remains ' of Bishop Copleston — Letters to Mrs. Arnold — Letter to C. Wale, Esq. — Letter to Mrs. Hill — Letters to Mr. Senior on his ' Sorrento' Journal — Letter to Mr. Senior on his Review of ' Uncle Tom's Cabin ' — Extract from a Letter on ' Slavery ' — Pub- lishes the ' Lessons on Morals ' — Letter to Mrs. Hill — Publishes his Edition of ' Bacon's Essays with Annotations' — Letter to Mrs. Hill— His Illness— Attacked by Paralysis 321 CHAPTER XIII. 1857-1859. Appointment of Dr. Fitzgerald to the See of Cork — Letter to Mr. Duncan — Letter to Mr. Senior on opening Places of Public Recrea • tion on Sundays — Death of the Rev. Henry Bishop — Letter to Miss Crabtree — Letter to Mrs. Hill — Letter to Mr. Senior — Meeting of the British Association at Dublin — Interested in Dr. Livingstone's plans — Accident to the Archbishop — His great interest in Missions — Dangerous illness of his eldest Grandchild — Visit of Mr. Senior — Extracts from his Journal — Letter to Mr. Senior on ' Book grants' from the Education Board — Letter to Miss Crabtree on the Revival Movement— His Family Bereavements — Death of his youngest Daughter — Death of Mrs. Whately- -Letters to Miss Crabtree and Dr. Hinds — Breaking up of his Family Circle — Spends the Summer with Mr. Senior — Letter to Mrs. Arnold 334 CHAPTER XIV. 1862-1863. Suffers from Neuralgic Gout — Attends the Session of the Statistical Society, and contributes a Paper on Secondary Punishments — Letter to C. Wale, Esq. — Visit of Mr. Senior — Extracts from Mr. XVI CONTENTS. Seniors Journal — Experiments on Charring — Conversation on Eoman Proselytising — Eemarks on the Falsehood of commonh- received Maxims — Visit of Dr. de Eieei. and interesting Conversa- tion on Eeligious Endowments — Gradual Decline of the -\rchbishop — Visit of his Sister-in-law — Journal of the Eev. H. Dickinson — His last Cliarge — Presides at the Monthly Dinner to his Clergy — Increase of his Bodily Sufferings — Interesting Conversation with Mr. Dickinson — Apprehensions respecting his State of Health — Continued interest in Literary Pursuits — Tender attentions of his Family in his Last Moments — His patient Eesignation — His Delight in the Eighth of Eomans — Eeceives the Lord's Supper with his Family — Progress of the Disease and great physical Suffering — Parting Interview with his favourite Grandchild — Visited hy Mrs. Senior — His anxious Desire to Die — His Death — Lines on his Death 354 TABLE TALK. Miscellaneous Eemii^iscences by the Editor .... 376 Eemixiscexces by his Son, the Eev. Edward "VN'hately. Eector OF St. WERBrEGHS, DUBLIX 396 Eecollectioks by THE Eev. James Peed. Eector of Wexford . 431 Miscellaneous Eecollections by Dean H. Dickinson, M.A., of THE Chapel Eoyal, Dublin 433 Notes from thi-: Eecollections of an Old Oxford Pupil of Archbishop Whately s 440 Notes by W. Brooke, Esq 4.51 From a Friend 452 To these Notes the Writer adds a few Eeminiscences of her Own 456 Table Talk 460 Sketch of the Character of Archbishop "Whately, by one who HAD known him INTIMATELY AND OBSERVED HIM CLOSEXY . 475 List of the Writings of Db. Whately 4^2 LIFE AND EEMAINS OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY, CHAPTER I. 1787-1821. His parentage and birth — Premature development of his tastes for mathe- matics and castle-building — His school days — Keeps a Commonplace Book — His absence of mind early displayed — His intellectual characteristics — Enters Oriel College, Oxford — Influence of Dr. Copleston — Takes his degrees — His habits of intimacy with his pupils, and early friendships — Eeminiscences of his pupils — Ordained Deacon in 1814, and first public preaching — Bishop Hinds' recollections of Mr. AVhately, and interesting anecdotes — Dialogue in a stage-coach with a Koman Catholic farmer — Visits the Continent, and passes the winter in Portugal with his sisters — Resumes his college duties on his retiu'n — His mode of teaching — Remi- niscences of the Rev. R. N. Boultbee — A table anecdote. The subject of this memoir was the youngest of the nine children of the Rev. Dr. Joseph Whately, of Nonsuch Park, Surrey, and Prebendary of Bristol — also Vicar of Widford, and Lecturer at Grresham College. Before proceeding to detail his personal history, a few words respecting his family may not be out of place. The Whately family numbered in its ancestry some persons of note ; among them was the famous ' painful preacher ' of Banbury, a puritan divine of some eminence, whose Treatise on the New Birth is still extant. The father of Dr. Joseph Whately connected himself by marriage with the Thompson family, of which Lord Haversham ^ was the head, and some members of which ' Sir John Thompson, Bart., created Baron Haversham, Bucks, in 1669. Extinct in his son, 17-io. 0 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1787 had been distinguished, on the side of the Parliament, in the civil wars. His wife appears to have been a remark- able woman ; her portrait by Eomney, now in the posses- sion of one of her great-grandsons, gives the impression of a mind of no ordinary stamp ; and she was regarded by lier children with deep reverence. She had three sons. *One of them (Thomas) was private secretary and confi- dential friend to Greorge Grrenville, and afterwards Under- Secretary of State, M.P. for Castle Eising, and (to use the singular title of his office given in t6e ' Grentleman's Magazine ') ' Keeper of His Majesty's private Eoads, and Gruide to the Eoyal Person in all Progresses.' It was he to whom Hutcliinson and Oliver addressed from Massa- chusetts those celebrated letters which got, by unfair means, into the hands of Franklin, and produced so great an effect at the outbreak of American discontent. On his death, in 1772, his brother William became lawful owner of these papers, and thought himself obliged to fight a duel with Mr. John Temple on account of them.* Thomas Whately was the author of an ' Essay on Modern Grar- dening' (1770), of which the Archbishop says that he believes ^ him to have been ' the earliest writer on the subject. From his work subsequent writers have borrowed largely, and generally without acknowledgment. The French poet De Lille, however, in his poem " Des Jardins," does acknowledge him his master.' ^ He also wrote ' Ee- marks on some of the Characters in Shakspeare,' re-edited by the Archbishop.* Dr. Joseph Whately (the third) was married to Miss Jane Plumer, one of the three daughters of W. Plumer, Esq., of Grilston, and also of Blakesware Park, Herts. This last, an ancient dower-house, where the widow of Mr. Plumer resided with her daughters, is interesting from the notice of it in Charles Lamb's Essays. Lamb's grand- ' See Lord Stanhope's ' History of England,' c. 50. 2 This appears to be an error. A work on the subject was published in London in 1728. by Batley Langley. » ' Annol ations on Bacon,' Essay xlyi. ' On Gardens.' * H. M. ^T. 1] HIS PAREXTAGE AXD BIRTH. 3 mother, ^Irs. Field, was the housekeeper, and every reader of ' Elia,' will remember the allusions in it to early recol- lections of this place, now pulled down. Dr. and Mrs. Joseph Whately were the parents of nine children, five daughters and four sons, all of whom lived to maturity, and most of them to old age. The eldest son, William, was early engaged in business, afterwards turned his attention to law, married late in life, and died without children a few years after. The second, Thomas, was appointed to the living of Cookham, near Maidenhead, and afterwards to Chetwynd in Shropshire ; He married a sister of Charles first Earl of Cottenham, and survived his brother Eichard only six months, dying at the age of ninety-one, and leaving a numerous family. The third, Joseph Thompson, married an heiress, the daughter of T. Halsey, Esq., of Graddesden, Herts, took the name of his wife, and died in 1818, leaving four children. Of the five daughters, the eldest died in the prime of life ; the fourth and only surviving one is the widow of the late Sir David Barry,^ an eminent physician ; the three others died unmarried at an advanced age. Eichard, the youngest child, was born on the 1st of February 1787, in Cavendish Square, at the house of his maternal uncle, Mr. Plumer, then M.P. for Hertfordshire. His birth took place six years after that of the next youngest child, when the family had been long supposed complete, and the ' nursery ' in the house had ceased to exist. The arrival of the new-comer was an unlooked-for and scarcely a welcome event. He was feeble in health, and his slight and puny appearance must have strangely contrasted with the powerful, tall, and well-proportioned form of his maturer age. His friends have often heard him remark, that the earliest event of his life was his being weighed against a turkey, to the advantage of the bird ; and tliat he never in childhood knew what a really healthy appetite was ; the sensation of hunger was to him something new and strange, when he first felt it as a boy of eleven or twelve, ' Since deceased. B 2 4 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1793 In disposition he was shy, timid, and retiring ; he knew little of the high spirits and playfulness of early childhood, and the society of children of his own age was actually distasteful to him. From all company he shrank with a nervous dread ; and would often in after-life express wonder at the pleasure which children and young people usually take in social intercourse, and the desire of notice which they manifest. In his own family he met with most attentive personal care from his elder sisters ; but none of his brothers were sufficiently near him in age to be his companions, and' his early tastes and pursuits were not likely to meet with general sympathy or appreciation. He learned to read and write very early, and read with avidity ; but his great de- light was in the observation of nature. He would spend hours in the garden, watching the habits of spiders, taming young ducklings, and carrying them in his hand to pick snails from the cabbages, learning to distinguish notes of birds, &c. And to the results of these early observations he would often allude in after-years. But his most remarkable early passion was for arith- metic. In this he displayed a singular precocity. At six years old he astonished his family by telling the celebrated Parkhurst, his father's near neighbour and intimate friend, and a man of past sixty, how many minutes he was old. His calculations were tested, and found to be perfectly correct. But an extract from his Commonplace Book will best give an idea of this curious episode of his early life. ' There certainly was,' he writes, ' something peculiar in my calculating faculty. It began to show itself between five and six, and lasted about three years. One of the earliest things I can remember is the discovery of the difference between even and odd numbers, whose names I was highly delighted to be told ; I soon got to do the most difficult sums, always in my head, for I knew nothing of figures beyond numeration, nor had I any names for the different processes I employed. But I believe my sums were chiefly in multiplication, division, and the rule of JEt. 6] HIS EARLY PASSIOX FOR FIGURES. 5 three. In this last point I believe I surpassed the famous American boy, though I did not, like him, understand the extraction of roots. I did these sums much quicker than anyone could upon paper, and I never remember com- mitting the smallest error. I was engaged either in cal- culation or in castle-building (which I was also very fond of) morning, noon, and night ; and was so absorbed as to run against people in the streets, with all the other acci- dents of absent people. ' My father tried often, but in vain, to transfer my powers to written figures ; and when I went to school, at which time the passion was worn off, I was a perfect dunce at cyphering, and so have continued ever since. Thus was I saved from being a Jedediah Buxton, by the amputation, as it were, of this overgrown faculty. For valuable as it is in itself, it would have been a heavy loss to have it swallow up the rest. It was banished by a kind of ostra- cism, as the best of the Athenian citizens were, for the benefit of the community.' Thus far his own words. He has often remarked that he would at that time have been perfectly happy shut up in the Bastille, if permitted to follow his favourite piu:suit undisturbed. At the time he went to school, which was at about nine years old, this passion died away, and, as he subsequently thought, he then learned arithmetic slowly and with diffi- culty. He always looked on himself as a dunce in that line, though the readiness with which he solved curious problems and arithmetical puzzles would often surprise and baffle first-class mathematicians. The clearness of his explanations of the processes of arithmetic was always remarkable ; but he never was distinguished as a mathe- matician at college. But the other taste which he alludes to in the fragment given above — that for 'castle-building' — remained, and became more fully developed. His were not the usual childish flights of fancy, but rather visionary speculations on a variety of abstract subjects, metaphysical, political, and ethical ; fancied schemes for ameliorating the world. 6 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1796 ideal republics, &c. In those early days, when his absence of mind excited laughter, and it would be, half pityingly, half contemptuously, prophesied by his friends that he would ' never be able to make his way in the world,' the • mind of the boy was preoccupied with conjectures and speculations, which have often found place in the waitings of philosophers of matm-er age. He himself has related how, while still a child, it occurred to him that the con- sciousness of brutes must be analogous to that of human beings in a dream, when the power of abstraction at plea- sure is gone. This view he confirmed in later life ; but with regard to many theories of government, civilisation, &c., he was accustomed to remark, ' I went through that when I was twelve ; such a system I thought out when I was thirteen or fourteen,' and so on. His family afterwards regretted that he had not been sent to a public school ; but whether this would have suited his peculiar cast of mind so well as the training he was thus unconsciously giving himself, may perhaps be doubted. At the age of nine he was sent to the school of a Mr. Philips, in the neighbourhood of Bristol. This school in great measm-e determined the friendships and connections of his subsequent life. With one of his schoolfellows in particular (Mr. J. Parsons, afterwards son-in-law to Mr. Philips) he formed a close intimacy, which was only dis- solved by death ; and through this early friend he was afterwards brought into intimate relations with others who attended the same school after he left : among the principal of these were Mr. Eowe and Dr. Hinds. Mr. Philips's school was much resorted to by West Indians, and this gave him a familiarity with the customs and habits of the West Indies, which often appeared in his conversation and writings. The smallest incident which tended to throw light on national peculiarities, climate, or institutions, had always a peculiar interest for him, and was stored up in his memory from the time he heard it. Of his master he often spoke afterwards as remarkable for his personal influence over his pupils — an influence SCHOOL DAYS. 7 which did not spring from any extraordinary talent, but from some nameless power or quality in him, which certainly conduced in no small degree to the general good conduct and order of the school. In his Commonplace Book allusions will be found to his leading the sports of his companions, but on the whole, his school-life does not appear to have been a happy one. His thoughtful and meditative turn of mind was hardly fitted for ordinary schoolboy contact. Much of his leisure time was spent, as it had been at home, in solitary wander- ings and observations in natural history ; he would delight in straying over a common near the playground, watching the habits of the sheep, and trying to tame them, and other similar occupations. At ten years old he lost his father, the one of his family best able to appreciate his powers and peculiar turn of mind. This early bereavement he always deplored, and ever retained a lively recollection of conversations with his father, even at that early period. Mrs. 'VVhately removed with her five daughters and youngest son to Bath, where she passed the remainder of her life. Of the period just preceding his entrance into college scarcely any records remain. His habits of solitary re- flection and his interest in natural science appear to have been the same all along. Of fishing he was particularly fond. Throughout life, he retained his love for active exercise in the open air. His only surviving sister recol- lects another trait — the kind and unselfish consideration which made him, tlien and later, take pains to procure her horses and to ride with her, horse exercise being recommended for her health. Though a most acute and watchful observer where any principle was to be illustrated or induction made, he saw little at other times of what passed around him. His mind was eminently concentrative, and he often remarked in later life that, inconvenient as this habit was to him, he still owed everything in life to it. It enabled him to bring all his mental powers to bear on the subject before 8 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1803-5 him, but on the other hand, it made the operation of turning from one topic to another more intensely and pain- fully difficult ; and thus naturally produced the absence of mind referred to, which was one of his most remarkable characteristics, especially in the early period of his life. *He speaks with regret in his Commonplace Book (1812), of his deficiency in the quality which he terms Curiosity. ' By this means,' he says, ' I believe I lose more amuse- ment, and suffer more inconvenience, than if I was indif- ferent to many dignified and excellent subjects of enquiry which I delight in. I have no relish for ordinary chat, which consists in the reciprocal gratification of the above passion ; nor, consequently, for the company of a great part of the world, who have little to say that has anything but novelty to recommend it. It gives me no pleasure to be told who is dead, and who married, and what wages my neighbour gives his servants. Then, for the incon- venience, I am ignorant of the streets, and shops, and neighbouring \'illages of the town where I live. I very often know a man, without being able to tell any more about his country, family, etc., than if he had dropt from the skies. Nor do I even know, unless I enquire and examine diligently, and with design, how far it is from one place to another, what hour the coach starts, or what places it passes through. I am frequently forced to evade questions in a most awkward manner, from not daring to own, nor indeed able to convince any one of, my own in- credible ignorance. If I had had no uncle or aunt, I should, probably, have been ignorant of my mother's maiden name.' ■^These prefatory remarks may serve to introduce the reader to a few of those peculiar characteristics of his mind and of his labours, which will be more fully de- veloped in the course of the correspondence now laid before him. From the beginning, and emphatically, Whately was a thinker. His favourite authors were few : Ai'istotle, Thucydides, Bacon, Bishop Butler, "\Varbm*ton, Adam Smith ; these were, perhaps, his principal intimates among great writers; and it will be easily seen that they are among the most ' suggestive ; ' among those who could ^T. lG-18] INTELLECTUAL CHARACTERISTICS. 9 furnish the most ready texts on which his ruminating powers might be expended. But one unavoidable result of this comparative want of reading, in one who thought and wrote so much, was, that he continually stumbled upon the thoughts of others, and reproduced them in per- fect honesty as his own. This was one of his character- istics through life. It is singular to read one of his early critics ^ commenting on his tendency to reproduce the ' commonplace of other writers, not un frequently, without any apparent consciousness of their ever having seen the light before ; ' while one of his latest, Mr. Stuart Mill, speaking of his philosophical investigations, says that ' of all persons in modern times, entitled to the name of philosophers, the two, probably, wliose reading was the scantiest, in proportion to their intellectual capacity, were Archbishop Whately and Dr. Brown. But though indo- lent readers they were both of them active and fertile thinkers.' * *Activity and fertility were certainly, beyond all others, the characteristics of Whately's intellect. As in the early school and Oxford days, of which we are now writing, so down to his latest times, the daily occupation of his brain was to seize on some notion of what he considered a prac- tical order, belonging to any one of the various subjects with which his mind occupied itself ; to follow it out to its minutest ramifications, and to bring it home with him, turned from the mere germ into the complete production. And this perpetual ' chopping logic with himself ' he car- ried on not less copiously when his usually solitary walks were enlivened by companionship. His talk was rather didactic than controversial ; which naturally rendered his company unpopular with some, while it gave him the mastery over other spirits of a different mould. ' His real object, or his original objects,' writes one of his earliest and ablest friends, ' was to get up clearly and beat out his ideas for his own use. Thus he wrote his books. Mr. R., lately dead, who was junior to Whately as a fellow of Oriel, told me that, in one of his walks with him, he was ' 'British Critic,' 1828, on his - Difficulties of St. Paul.' 10 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. SO overcome by Whately's recurrence, in conversation, to topics which he had already on former occasions insisted on, that he stopped short and said, " Why, AVhately, you said all this to me the other day ; " to which Whately replied to the effect that he would not be the worse for hearing it many times over/* In the company of a few chosen friends he delighted ; but the intercourse with general society, and the ordinary routine of a town life, were to him irksome in the extreme. He was then, and even later, most painfully shy ; and the well-meant efforts of his friends to correct this defect, by constantly reminding him of the impression he was likely to make on others, served to increase the evil they were intended to combat. In the pages of his Commonplace Book he records how at last he determined to make a bold effort and care nothing for what others might be thinking of him ; and to use his own words, ' if he must be a bear, to be at least as unconscious as a bear.' And the effort succeeded. The shyness passed away; and though his manners might have still a certain abruptness and peculiarity about them, the distressing consciousness which made life a misery was gone. That this was no tri- fling hindrance removed from his path, was attested by his frequent emphatic remark in later years : ' If there were no life but the present, the kindest thing that one could do for an intensely shy youth would be to shoot him through the head ! ' **He could be most touchiDgly gentle in his manner,' says an old friend, ' to those whom he liked : but I recollect a lady saying she would not for the world be hi? wife, from the way in which she had seen him put Mrs. Whately' (the object, all his life, of his strongest affection) ' into a carriage.'* In 1805 he entered Oriel College, Oxford. That col- lege was then, and for some years afterwards, the most distinguished in the whole University. Dr. Copleston, afterwards Dean of Chester and Bishop of Llandaff, who was a college tutor at Oriel at the time of his entrance, and subsequently became Provost, was one of those who most eminently contributed to raise the character of his ^T. 18]^ IXFLUEXCE OF DR. COPLESTOX. 11 college to the height it attained during the early part of this century. To Richard Whately, whose intellectual life had hitherto been so entirely solitary, the lectures and converse of Dr. Copleston were like a new spring of life. For the first time he found himself brought into immediate communi- cation with one who could enter into his aspirations^ and draw out the latent powers of his mind. And under that new and genial influence the young student's powers ex- panded like a plant in sunshine. Often has he described in after-life those lectures which were to form the turning point in his intellectual career. As Copleston's penetra- ting eye glanced I'ound the lecture room in search of an answering and understanding look, it rested with satis- faction on the one pupil who was always sure to be eagerly drinking in his every word. The Archbishop often dwelt on the thrill of pleasure with which he heard the first words of calm discriminating commendation of his theme from his tutor's lips : ' That is well, Mr. Whately ; I see you understand it.' *The influence which these two men reciprocally exer- cised on each other was very great, and to a certain extent coloured the subsequent lives of both. Bishop Copleston was more the man of the world of the two. But in him, under a polished and somewhat artificial scholarlike ex- terior, and an appearance of even overstrained caution, there lurked not only much energy of mind and precision of judgment, but a strong tendency to liberalism in Church and State, and superiority to ordinary fears and prejudices. It was in this direction that he especially trained Whately's character ; while he learnt to admire, if too staid to imi- tate, the uncompromising boldness and thorough freedom from partizanship of the younger man. But the ideas of both were too uncongenial with those which prevailed among the large majority of Oxford residents at the time to be in favour ; and ' Oriel ' in general, with its preten- sions to dissect, by searching logic, the preconceived notions of the little world around it, was not popular. The great dispenser of patronage in those days, Lord Liverpool, 12 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP ^HATELY. [1809 was thought to have been prejudiced against Copleston by Oxford advisers. And Whately, whose disposition was always a little too ready to lend itself to impressions of injustice done to a friend, seems early in Hfe to have re- garded his tutor as something of a martp\* His constitutional tendency was to indolence : but this was conquered by his earnest desire to profit by what he was learning. He often remarked in after-years that the mere thirst for knowledge might not have been in itself sufficient to accomplish this ; but his anxious wish to be independent, and no longer a bm-den on his widowed mother, was a stimulus to him to advance in those studies which alone held out to him a prospect of attaining his object. And manfully and resolutely he set himself to work. Though naturally one who shook off sleep with difficulty, it was his college habit to arouse himself by the help of an alarum in his room, at five o'clock, summer and winter, light his own fire, and study for two hom^s or more ; then sally forth for an early walk, from which he retm'ned in time to meet the band of late risers hurrying from their beds to the eight o'clock chapel. He has described, in his * Annotations on Bacon,' the results of the observations of natural phenomena that he made in these early morning walks ; and also his experience as a student with respect to hours. He found it best to pm-sue the early-rising plan when engaged only in the acquirement of knowledge ; but whenever he had to compose a theme or essay, he found his ideas did not flow as freely in the morning as at night ; he therefore changed his habits, and sat up at night while occupied in any original work. His intercom'se with his tutor, Copleston, soon ripened into a steady and solid friendship, which lasted till death dissolved it. It was in their long walks together, in the woods and meadows near Oxford, that they discussed and worked out such subjects as form much of the gTOundwork of the ' Logic' In 1809 he commenced a plan which was continued up to within a few months of his death, — viz., that of noting JEt:, 22] HE KEEPS A COMMONPLACE BOOK. 13 down his thoughts in a Commonplace Book. A consider- able portion of this has now been brought before the public. It is interesting to see his early aspirations in the first pages, written in a youthful and unformed hand. They can be best described by quoting his own words : — ' When I consider the progress I have made in the improvement of my mind since I have been at college, I cannot help thinking that by perseverance almost any one may do more than at first sight appears possible ; and I regret more than ever the time I formerly lost. But the past cannot be recalled ; the future is in my power, and I re- solve, through God's help, to make the best use of it ; and though I am very likely to fail of my main object, I shall at least satisfy my conscience by doing my best. When I call to mind the independent spirit and thirst for improve- ment which I admired in my beloved tutor Copleston, I am stimulated to double exertions, that I may be enabled, as in other things, so in this, to imitate his virtues ; and as the improvement of my mind is one of my objects, though not the principal one, I have begun the plan re- commended by Miss E. Smith,^ of keeping a register of my thoughts.' In this preface, if so we may call it, to all his subse- quent literary labours, we catch a glimpse of those religious sentiments to which the reserve of his character and habits rarely permitted an expression ; and the spirit in w^hich he began this, which many would have considered a purely secular work, is shown further by the full-length quotation of the last verse of Psalm xix. in the fiy-leaf of his first notebook : ' Let the words of my moutli, and the medi- tations of my heart, be acceptable in Thy sight, 0 Lord, my strength, and my redeemer ! ' The details of this interesting period of his life are necessarily few and scanty ; and they must be chiefly drawn from recollections of his conversation in later life, and from the pages of his Commonplace Book. * He alludes to a little volume of the ' Eemains of Elizabeth Smith,' pub- lished by Miss Bowdler, and giving an interesting account of the efforts at self-improvement under difficulties of a young person of very remarkable powers. 14 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1812 The time now came for him to take his degree. He went up for honours in 1808, and took a double second- class. It has been suggested that his failure to obtain a first-class in classics was o^ying to the circumstance that the examiners at that time were inclined to lay more stress on the graces of language and proficiency in the minute points of elegant scholarship than on the branches in which he more peculiarly excelled. But, although a very good scholar, he was never what, in the estimation of fastidious Oxonians, is accounted an accomplished one. Tlie first step which gave him a sense of conscious power, was his gaining the prize for the English Essay. The subject was the comparative excellence of the ancients and moderns, and he often recurred to his early success as one of the turning-points in his life. The next step forward was his attainment of his fellowship, which took place in 1811, when he was elected Fellow of Oriel. Xo advancement in later life ever seems to have given him sucli intense and heartfelt pleasure as this, the first well- earned reward of his labours. It enabled him to realise his long-cherished wish of earning his bread indepen- dently. In 1812 he took his degree as Master of Arts, and continued to reside at Oxford as a private tutor. The incident which led to his introduction to one of his most intimate friends, gives a strong proof of the esti- mation in which he was generally held in that capacity. An old and valued friend of his, the late Mr. Hardcastle, requested him to undertake the tuition of a young man of great promise, who had come up to the University with every expectation of honours, but had failed to answer a question in his divinity examination in the very words of the Catechism. The examiner remarked, ' Why, sir, a child of ten years old could answer that ! ' 'So could I, sir,' replied the young student, ' when /was ten years old!' But the sharp repartee did not save him from being plucked. Both he and his family were naturally much mortified ; but being of a nature not easily crushed, the disappointment, which might have been hurtful to many. ^T. 25] ^NASSAU W. SEXIOR BECOMES HIS PUPIL. 15 acted rather as a stiraulus on him ; he resolved he would retrieve his injured reputiitioD, and for this it was im- portant to secure a first-rate private tutor. Through their common friend, Mr. Hardcastle, he was introduced to Mr. Whately, and shortly after wrote home to his father — ' I have got "Whately for my private tutor, and I will have the first-class next term.' He succeeded, and this was the commencement of a friendship between Richard Whately and Nassau William Senior which lasted through their lives. The younger friend survived his former tutor but a few months. In the long vacations he usually went, with a select party of his pupils, to read in some picturesque part of England ; Continental travelling being then shut out, owing to the war. Some survive who look back with undying interest and pleasure to those summer sojourns, in which their teacher became also their companion, and in the midst of the sports in which he delighted and ex- celled— for he was a first-rate shot and fisherman — would pour forth from the rich stores of his own mind treasures of wit and wisdom which were long remembered by his hearers.^ A few reminiscences of these days may be given in the words of one of these early pupils and friends, Sherlock Willis, Esq., first introduced to him through the means of the Rev. T. Parsons, who, as already mentioned, was through life his dear and valued friend. ' I first knew Whately,' writes this early friend, ' when with Mr. Parsons, at Redlands, near Bristol, as a private pupil. Whately had then just taken his degree at Oriel. Parsons had been a fellow of Oriel and an old friend and schoolfellow of Whately's. Being a West Indian, many of his friends were from thence. One of these of the name of Rowe, Hinds, and myself, became amongst Whately's most intimate friends at college, in consequence of his having kno^vn us at his friend Parsons 's. He was always ' There are — or were until very lately — some few -who remembered Mr. Whately in his early Oxford days, under the soubriquet of the ' Wliite Bear,' derived from a white hat, rough white coat, and huge white dog which were then his principal outward marks. 16 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELT. [1814 original both in manners and dress, and showed even then his high order of intellect. ' Two years after I entered Oxford, when I began to read steadily, he received me as a regular private pupil, and six months afterwards we all went together to Conis- ton — his friends Hinds and Boultbee, and myself. This was in 1814. We were all reading together — ^we formed a kind of republic — Whately was always ready to give us advice or information for our reading when called upon. Our usual manner of life was to rise at five in the morning, breakfast early, dine at two, read " Terence " from half- past two to three or so, and then go out on excursions, — boating, fishing, or walking up the fells. There was a lady in the neighbourhood, whose daughter had "written a book in four volumes, which she lent the party ; each took a volume and read it up, so that when they were in com- pany with the lady, and the book was under discussion, it was agreed that the one whose volume was being discussed should undertake the answers ! 'Whately insisted on our constantly conversing in Latin, to give familiarity with the language, and very amusing were the expressions used : " Porrige jugiandes, quceso," for " hand the walnuts." " Jam lucet sol super cacumina montium " was the call to summon us to rise in the morning. ' He was always full of humour, and had a strong sense of the ludicrous. One day he and I wanted to go out fishing ; we went down to the lake, and found our boat afloat. This annoyed him, and I waded into the water and brought it up, upon which we got in and went on our way fishing ; his way of repaying me (for repay me he did) was by giving me a lecture on " Aristotle," a tolerably large compensation for a wetting ! As we were fishing in the boat, a man came up and asked to be taken in, to which we agreed. The man was fishing from one end of the boat, and we from the other. He caught nothing ; we did, as fast as we could throw in the line. We were, as usual, speaking in Latin. The man expressed his sur- prise that he could not catch as we did. "Why," said JEt. 27] ^ HIS ORDIXATIOX. 17 Whately, " you should talk Latin to them as we do ! " The fact was that there was a shoal which did not reach to his end of the boat.' Whately's close and sympathetic familiarity with the writings of Aristotle has been already mentioned. In point of fact, he was perhaps the leader among those who rendered the ethics and rhetoric of the Stagyrite for many years the leading class-book of his University, and who studied to unite them, by comparison and analysis, with all that they esteemed most valuable in modern philosophy. For the enthusiastic and exclusive Aristotelian tendency of Oxford minds, for a whole generation after his in- troduction to tutorial life, no man was so responsible as Whately.* With Plato's intellectual peculiarities, on the other hand, he had little sympathy. The cast of his own mind was as unsuited to the master as it was in harmony with the pupil. He was ordained deacon in the year 1814, and preached his first sermon at Knowle in Warwickshire. On this occasion his habits of abstraction caused him to com- mit a characteristic blunder ; he forgot to write down his text, and when he had entered the pulpit, was obliged to communicate with the clerk to procure it. It might be supposed, from the natural shyness of his disposition, that on first appearing in the pulpit he would have been painfully conscious; but the deep and solemn sense of the message he had to deliver was an effectual safeguard against this tendency. On a friend asking him if he did not feel very nervous on first reading and preaching in public, he replied, that he dared not ; to think of himself at such a time was, in his eyes, not only a weakness but a sin. Another lively picture of this part of his college life, during the period between 1811 and 1815, is given in the reminiscences of Bishop Hinds. The traits cited of him, though some of them may appear trivial, are so strikingly indicative of his character that we cannot withhold them. Bishop Hinds writes : — c 18 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1811-12 'I went from school to Oxford in November 1811 ; it having been previously arranged that Whately was to be my private tutor. He was, at that time, still a B.A. and in lodgings. There I received my first lecture. His apartment was a small one, and the little room in it much reduced by an enormous sofa, on which I found him stretched at length, with a pipe in his mouth, the atmosphere becoming denser and denser as he puffed. Not being accustomed to smoking, my eyes burned and my head was affected. All, however, was soon forgotten in the interest of the interview. There was no ostenta- tious display of talent and acquirement. Never did tutor in his teacliing seem to think so little of himself, and to be so thoroughly engrossed with making his pupil com- prehend what he taught. As was his custom, he often digressed from the lecture proper into some other topic, but was always instructive and entertaining. We imme- diately took to one another ; I parted from him dazzled and fascinated. ' I was soon invited to join him in his early morning walks. His custom was to start soon after five o'clock, returning, generally, in time for eight o'clock chapel. In these rambles he was glorious. Every object was a text. It may be literally recorded of him that " he spake of trees, from the cedar tree that is in Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall ; also of beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of fishes ; " all taking their turn with classical or modem literature, religion, philosophy, and what not besides ? Nihil non tetiget, nihil tetigit quod non ornavit, ' One pecidiarity I used to note ; he ever quitted the beaten tracks ; and we were sure, sooner or later, to have a hedge or ditch to scramble through, or swampy ground to tread delicately over, without any apparent reason, except his perverse propensity for avia loca, nullius ante trita solo. ' On one of these occasions we were joined by another of his pupils, a schoolfellow of mine, long since dead — an out-and-out specimen of Milsom Street and the Pump ^T. 27] BISHOP HIXDS' RECOLLECTIONS OF HIM. 19 Eoom, Bath, as Bath was in those days ; exquisitely neat in his person, and scrupulous about soiling the very soles of his boots — shoes 1 ought to say, for at that time they were generally worn in Oxford. We got on without any serious discomfort to him, until we came upon a stream of water. Whately turning to him said, " What shall we do now ? " He, no more dreaming of his tutor really fording the stream than of his miraculously drying it up, replied jocularly, " If you will go through, I will follow." In plunged Whately ; but looking back and seeing H. R. gaping at him, without the remotest intention of following him, he returned, and exclaiming, " You said you would follow me, and follow me you shall," dragged him bodily through the water. He was a good-natured fellow, and joined in the hearty laugh at his expense, but never in another cross-country walk. ' We passed the Christmas vacation of 1812, or part of it, together at Ramsgate. He brought with him his gun and a dog. Within-doors I went over with him the first six books of Euclid. His mode of teaching it was, I recol- lect, to give me the Propositions and leave me to puzzle them out without book or other assistance, which was only given when I had tried and failed to do so. Out-of-doors he always carried his gun, and occasionally brought down a bird. His chief sport was among the rooks, a species, if I recollect aright, remarkable for having some white feathers. One morning he shot an unusually plump one. '* This," said he, " will make a capital supper for Bishop " — that, I think, was the name of his dog. Accordingly he brought the rook home and handed it to the landlady, with instructions as to how it was to be dressed for doggy. In due time it made its appearance, looking, I must con- fess, anything but tempting for a human stomach ; and the dog seemed to think it as little suited to canine nature, for he turned his back on it disdainfully, and slunk into a corner. Whately endeavoured to coax him into an appetite for it, and, from coaxing, changed his tone to that of remonstrance and rebuke. All to no pur-^ pose. It now became a contest between the will of the^ c 2 20 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TVHATELY. [1813-15 master and that of the animal. Whately resolved to carry his point. The dish was put away until the following day. Morning, noon, and night the same scene recurred; the more AMiately laboured to induce Bishop, the more Bishop seemed determined not to yield, and the dish was remanded to yet another day. On the following morning, when the dog was called, and, as before, shown the boiled rook, he paused for some minutes, eyed it with a look which deserved to be immortalised by Landseer, uttered a sharp yelp, and, pouncing on the hateful mess, devoured it as ferociously as ever Xew Zealander did the flesh of his enemy, Whately all the while shouting, " Good dog, good dog I " The victory was gained, but there was no more rook-cooking. ' "VMien Whately was reading for the Oriel fellowship, he spent a long vacation at Shanklin, in the Isle of Wight. It was before I became acquainted with him ; but he has often told me that whilst there he made two days out of one. His method was to rise about three o'clock in the morning, • and conclude his first day at noon. He then undressed, drew his bed-room curtains, went to bed, and slept for two or three hours. Then began his second day, which ended at ten at night. For all working purposes he found time doubled; the noon siesta doing for him what night usually does, in breaking the current of active life and preparing us for fresh exertion. ' Whately and I started from Oxford, early one morn- ing in the winter of 1813, by a Birmingham coach, to visit cm- friends the Boultbees at Springfield. Our travelling companions inside the coach, were two strangers, a man and a woman. The man was full of fun and frolic, and for some time made himself merry at the expense of the woman, having detected her in the act of slyly putting to her lips a bottle of some comforting drink with which she had provided herself. From her he turned upon Whately, observing as the daylight increased that he had the ap- pearance of being clerical or academical. " I suppose, sir," said he, " tliat you are one of the gentlemen who teach at Oxford?" Whately nodded assent. "I don't ^T, 26-2^] DISCUSSION WITH A CATHOLIC F.\KMER. 21 care," he continued, " who knows it, but I am a Catholic." No reply. " Well sir, I'll tell you what my religious prin- ciple is. My wife is one of you, and I have a servant who is a Dissenter. When Sunday comes round, I see that my wife goes to her place of worship, my servant to hers, and I go to mine. Is not that the right religious prin- ciple ? " Whately : " Yes ; but I do not mean by that that you are right in being a Eoman Catholic." Stranger : " Ay, you don't like our praying to the Virgin Mary and to the Saints." Whately : " That is one thing ; but I must own that there is something to be said for your doing so." Stranger : " To be sure there is." Whately : " You, I guess, are a farmer ? " Stranger : " Yes, sir, and no farm in better order than mine in all Oxfordshire." Whately : " If your lease was nearly run out, and you wanted to have it renewed on good terms, I dare say you would ask any friend of your landlord, any of his family or even his servants, any one in short, to say a good word for you?" Stranger : " You have it ; our praying to the Virgin and to the saints to intercede for us is the same thing — it is but natural and reasonable." Whately : " Now, suppose your landlord had one only son — a favourite — and he gave out that whoever expected any favour from him, must ask that son, and no one else, to intercede for him, what then ? " Stranger : " Oh ! that would alter the case ; but what do you mean by that ? " Whately : " 1 mean that God has declared to us, by His Word, the Bible, that there is one Mediator between God and man — the man Christ Jesus." Stranger : " And is that in the Bible ? " Whately : " It is ; and when you go home, if you have a Bible, you may look into it yourself and see." ' After a pause, the farmer said, " Well, sir, I'll think over that ; but " — and on the controversy travelled through 22 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1813-]5 the prominent differences between us and the Eoman Catho- lics, the farmer, on each successive defeat, endeavouring to make up for being driven from one position by falling back on another which he presumed must be more tenable. ' This discussion lasted until we were near Banbury, where we parted company. The farmer, on quitting, having noticed that Whately had a fowling-piece with him, held out his hand to him and said, " I am so-and-so, and live at such-and-such a place, not far from this ; if you will come and spend a few days with me, I will get you some capital shooting, and I'll be right glad to see you. Now you'll come, won't you ?" ' As they never met again, Whately never knew whether his arguments made any permanent impression on the man. Perhaps he does now, and may be rejoicing over an ingathering from seed thus scattered, and left for Grod to give it increase. ' While on a visit to his friend Parsons, at Redland, near Bristol, they attended divine service one Sunday, at a churcli hard by. On the clergyman beginning the prayers, Whately was seized with one of those strange fancies that intrude sometimes on one's most serious and solemn moments. He thought, " What if that clergyman were suddenly to drop dead ? What would take place ? " In the midst of this day-dream the clergyman did actually drop, and was carried out of the church. " I hardly knew," said Whately, on relating the occurrence, " whether I was awake or asleep." He was soon roused, however, by some one from the vestry, who reported that the clergyman was too ill to return, and requested that he or Parsons would undertake the service. It was arranged that Parsons should occupy the desk, and that a messenger should be despatched to his house for some sermons of Whately's, which he had, as he supposed, left in an open drawer. The service proceeded, drew near to a close, and no ser- mons arrived. At the last moment the messenger returned to say that they were not to be found. Whately, never- theless, mounted the pulpit, made some remarks on the accident that gave occasion to his being there, apologised JEx. 26-^8] HIS COLLEGE FRIENDS. 23 to the congregation for having no sermon, and hoped that they would be content with his doing for them what he was in the habit of doing for his own people — reading a chapter from the Bible, and explaining it as he went on. This he did, no doubt much to their instruction and edifi- cation, besides saving the Church from the reproach of one of its congregations being dismissed without a word of exhortation, neither of two clergymen present being able to give it. ' Among the incidents in my intercourse with him which I most regret having allowed to pass into oblivion, except as to their general impression on me, were my evenings with him after he had been in Oriel Common Koom.^ The discussions which used to take place, on a wide range of subjects, were most enlightening, and he used to detail them to me nearly verbatim. Would that I could recall some of them I That Common Koom was to him not a mere place of resort for relaxation and recrea- tion, but a school for sharpening his argumentative powers, and for training him to make that use of them in his social intercourse in Parliament, and in other public assemblies, which was so striking and effective. It is hardly too much to say, that he was not less indebted to Oriel Common Eoom than to the college lectures in the earlier portion of his college life.' *The Archbishop's principal friends, both of the Oriel Common Eoom and others, w^ill be gradually introduced to the reader in this correspondence. Newman, Hinds, Baden Powell, Pope (his brother-in-law), and the Eev. J. Woodgate (now rector of Belbroughton), may be named as chief among those wlio formed his set or ' following,' if such it may be termed, during his residence at Oxford. But Whately was never a popular man in the ordinary sense of the word. His opinions clashed too decidedly with * ' It is curious ' (says Dean Stanley, in his ' Life of Arnold ') ' to observe the list which when the youthful scholar of Corpus, Arnold, was added to it (he was elected Fellow of Oriel in 1815) contained the names of Copies- ton, Davison, Whately, Keble, Hawkins, and, shortly after he left it (1820), those of Newman and Pusey.' 24 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1815 those which prevailed in the Oxford society of his day to render him so in general life. And in private, though some loved him, many were deterred from attempting any close intimacy with him by his roughness of manner, and the disdain which he was commonly supposed to entertain for the common herd of thinkers. All the while, his attachment to his own particular set — to those few who were his real intimates — was almost feminine in its tender- ness, and most constant in its durability. Any friend of "Whately's was (in his view) something sacred — some one whose views, and writings, and character were to be de- fended against all comers, and at all hazards. And no one can have failed to remark in his writings, traces of that curious self-delusion which sometimes affects men of strong minds and strong affections, and who are by nature teachers rather than readers and listeners. Judgments and senti- ments which he had himself instilled into his sectaries, when reproduced by them, struck him as novelties ; and he may frequently be caught quoting, with much appro- bation, expressions of this or that follower, which in truth are mere ^ Whateleiana,' consciously or unconsciously borrowed from him."^ In 1815 he made his first journey abroad, under circum- stances very unlike those which mark the foreign excur- sions of most young men. His expedition was made with no view to personal gratification or curiosity, but entirely for the sake of another. His fourth sister, afterwards Lady Barry, who had long been in precarious health, had just received the fiat from her physician that she must pass the ensuing cold season confined to her apartment. On mentioning this to her brother, he hastened to ascer- tain from her medical adviser if a winter in Portugal would be a desirable alternative, and on receiving an affirmative answer, he at once proposed escorting her and another sister to Oporto. This offer involved no small self-denial, as it was made in uncertainty as to whether he could venture to leave his sisters abroad ; and in the event of his being obliged to remain with them, a whole year of his college work was sacrificed. No personal ^T..28] ^ HIS AVERSION TO TRAVELLING. 25 gratification could to him have made up for such a loss : and foreign travel did not present the same attraction for him that it does for most young men. It was a curious feature in his character, that though an unwearied observer of nature, with a lively interest in national peculiarities, and a correct appreciation of fine scenery, travelling was in general positively disagreeable to him. To his concentrative mind, the attention to small details was most annoying ; and to one whose nature craved constant and steady work, weeks spent in moving about and sight-seeing were irksome. His mind turned with longing to his regular pursuits ; and though for a definite object he would shrink from no fatigue or difficulty, he would never have felt it worth while going far out of his way to see the grandest scene or most curious sight, much as he might enjoy it if it came into the ordinary course of his life. And for the treasures of art, antiquity, curious old cities, and fine buildings, he had little or no taste. Pictures gave him tlie liveliest pleasure, if the subject interested him, and the design seemed well carried out ; but not otherwise. He never forgot a picture which really illustrated a subject he thought interesting and suitable ; sketches of costumes of different countries, illustrations of savage life, of hunting, or of striking scenes in history or fiction, delighted him. When on the Continent, many years later, he turned with indifference and almost distaste from the masterpieces of Eaphael, Correggio, and other old masters. Madonnas and Holy Families seemed to him only misrepresentations of Scripture, whose beauty of execution could not atone for the false ideas conveyed ; but he was enchained by a picture he saw at Frankfort, in 1846, of John Huss before the Council of Constance, and recurred to it repeatedly in after years. Architecture was a ' dead letter ' to him ; and for antiquities, as such, he had little or no taste. It may therefore easily be imagined, that the journey thus undertaken was one which involved even more self- sacrifice in him than to most others. In those days a journey to Portugal was no easy matter. By some inad- 26 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1815 vertency the vessel which sailed direct for Oporto periodi- cally was missed, and they were compelled to take places in a ship bound for Lisbon. Here they delayed no longer than was needful for rest ; and it is characteristic of the turn of mind referred to, that he made no attempt to visit the already renowned beauties of Cintra. The journey from Lisbon had to be performed across the country, on roads betokening a very low state of civilisation, and at a time when the recent Peninsular war had left everything in confusion. After a slow and fatiguing journey Oporto was reached ; and there they found some friends settled, under whose protection Mr. Whately was enabled to leave his sisters, and, after a few days, to return by the next packet to his college duties. His recollections, however, of this short trip were sin- gularly full and vivid ; and often, in later life, he would recur to peculiarities he had remarked in the country, people, customs, and language. Nothing escaped him. He learned enough of the language to make himself understood in common things, and forty years afterwards would remember and remark on Portuguese words as if he had heard them but yesterday. He was accustomed to speak of himself as a bad linguist, and the learning of languages for the mere sake of learning was not a pursuit to which he was much inclined ; but the general principles of language, and everything connected with philological research, were always interesting to him. French was the only modern language he ever made himself master of ; he acquired it at school, persisting, in spite of the ridicule of his companions, in conversing in French with the French master. In after life he had much occasional intercourse with foreigners, and although he always seemed to feel painfully hampered by a language of which he did not possess the full command he had of his own, still those who conversed with him were often struck with the accu- racy and fluency of his French conversation. On his return from Portugal, in the autumn of 1815, he gladly returned to the scenes and the sphere of work which were so congenial to him ; and the next five or six ^T. 28] HIS FACULTY OF TUITIOX. 27 years were spent entirely in his employments as a tutor, both in a private and public capacity, varied only by occasional excursions during the long vacations. Teaching was indeed the occupation most peculiarly suited to his powers and tastes. He had a remarkable faculty of drawing out the mind of the learner, by leading him step by step, and obliging him to think for himself. He used to say that he believed himself to be one of the few teachers who could train a young person of retentive memory for words, without spoiling him. The temptation to the student in such cases, is to rehearse by rote the rules or facts he has learned, without exercising his powers of thought ; while one whose powers of recollection were less perfect, would be forced to reflect and consider what was likely to be written or said on such or such a point by the writer, and thus to learn more intelligently and less mechanically. The cure for this tendency, in young persons who learned quickly by rote, he effected by asking them questions substantially the same as those in the text- book, but which they must answer in their own words, making them draw conclusions from axioms already laid down. In this manner he was able successfully to teach mathematics to many who had been apparently unable to master the first principles, and often to ground them in the Elements of Euclid better than some mathematicians whose actual attainments were far beyond his own. Both in this branch and in logic, as in all other studies, he always commenced analytically and ended synthetically — first drawing out the mind of the learner by making him give the substance of the right answer, and then re- quiring the exact technical form of it in words. In later life he loved to propose logical puzzles for the young persons around him, to whom he would give a breakfast- table lecture, and make them dissect some inconclusive piece of reasoning, or solve some problem. One of the few survivors among his near connexions records some pleasing reminiscences of his manner of teaching in private. ' I can speak,' she writes, ' to his kind and patient way of instructing me when a girl, always 23 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1816 saying, " Do not adopt my opinions because they are mine^ but judge for yourself ; " of his pleasant, playful way of correctiug foibles. I used to scribble sadly as a girl, and he wi*ote me a letter, beginning in a clear hand, My dear and then a page of scribble impossible to read ; ending with, " Xow you see the evil of -smting unintelligibly." He cured me of shyness too. " You are shv," he would sav, "because vou are thinkinof of the impression you are making. Think only of the pleasure you can gire to others, and not of yom*self." ' He possessed a remarkable power of discriminating and analysing the characters of those mth whom he was brought into contact as teacher. His own reminiscences, given in conversation in later life, of these early Oxford experiences among his pupUs, were both interestiog and instructive ; and those who listened to him could scarcely fail of retaining vivid mental pictures of the groups he sketched, though the individuals described were scarcely known to them by name. Among the rest stands out, in strong relief, the contrast drawn between two in particular — one with a calm and self-possessed exterior, conceaHng an almost morbid diffidence and self -distrust ; the other shy and timid in company, yet secretly inclined to over- rate his powers. I think it was the former of these two whom he persuaded, with some difficulty, to write an essay for a prize. For some time the yoimg student himg back, de- claring he could never even hope to pass muster. His tutor at last induced him by earnest persuasion, out of personal compliance with a friend's request, to begin. After wi-iting a few pages, the courage of the candidate failed ; he sent them to his tutor with a note, declaring he had made the attempt to please him, and sent what he had done to prove the impossibility of his succeeding. 'Mr, ^Miately at once perceived that the commencement was a promising one, and indicated talents which would command success ; knowing therefore the character he had to deal with, he wrote on the margin, ' Go on as you have begun, and you will get the prize.' He did so, succeeded, and felt that it was a step which gave the turning-point to his life. ^T; 29] FIKMNESS WITH HIS PUPILS. 29 Mr. Whately took, indeed, a pecuHar delight in en- couraging diffident and desponding characters. He used to say that in England, over-diffidence was really a com- moner defect than excessive self-esteem. Yet he was resolutely firm when occasion called for it. In one case it was necessary a student should be expelled for glaring misconduct. He was a man of uncommon talent, and even genius, and possessed singular powers of persuasion. He wrote a long, eloquent, and touching letter to Mr. Whately, entreating him and the other college officers to reconsider their decision. ' I did not venture a second glance at the letter,' said my father, in speaking of the incident many years later ; ' I knew we had decided rightly, and that we ought not to yield ; but the power of that letter was such that I could not trust myself with a second reading, lest I should be softened in spite of my better judgment ; so I threw it into the fire.' This was a case in which any concession would have injured the character of the college, and been hurtful to the principles of morality and virtue ; but Dr. Whately, as Principal of Alban Hall, some years later, was a merciful though a strict head of a house. ' I pardon this as a first offence,' he would sometimes say, after some escapade of an undergi'aduate, ' and I do not wish to remember it. I will not, unless you force me to do so. But recollect, if that you commit a second, I must remember the first.' Another reminiscence of a different kind we may quote. He had an early college friend, whose character he used to describe as a peculiarly attractive union of perfect sweet- ness of temper with a vehement enthusiasm, which is more frequently combined with some heat and irritability. ' He was like a south-west wind,' he would say, ' strong, but mild. Once he was bursting forth into a vehement eulogy of the institution of Trial by Jury. I maintained, on the opposite side, that England was not ripe for it when first introduced, and is scarcely fit for it yet. He seized a glass of wine, and, falling on his knees, drank the health of the founder of the institution ; I immediately took up a glass of water and, turning my back on the table, drank 30 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1816-19 the health, as if in mockery, to the great amusement of all present.' His energy and love of remedying abuses were mani- fested on many occasions which would generally be re- garded as trifling. He used to relate that when travelling by stage-coach, as he did two or three times a year, be- tween Oxford and Bath, the coachman was in the habit of putting up half-way at an inn of very inferior pretensions, whose landlord and attendants, counting on the custom of the stage-coach as secure, made it their chief object to delay the breakfast or luncheon till the passengers were compelled to resume their journey without tasting the meal they had paid for. ' I determined at last,' he said, ' that I would not suffer this. As soon as the coach stopped to change horses, I ran across to a small inn on the opposite side, and engaged the people to prepare some refreshment as quickly as possible. Seeing that the change might benefit them, they were wonderfully prompt. Next time we passed I spoke of this to my companions, and persuaded 6ne or two to come with me and get breakfast where it could be had in time. Each journey brought more and more of the passengers to my side, and at last, one memor- able day, the whole party of travellers, inside and out- side, repaired to the opposition inn. The ^'ictory was gained, the coach thenceforth put up there, and the rival house was effectually put down.' He was fond of the outside of a coach, and conversed freely with all he met, often repeating amusing incidents of the old travelling days. Most of his friends will re- member the stage-coach guard, who having been in the East or West Indies (I forgot which), and also being possessed of some knowledge of chemistry, enjoyed a de- lightful sense of his superiority, of which he made the most, by parading before those whom he met his knowledge of whichever branch he found them deficient in. He poured forth the stores of his erudition to his fellow-traveller, who let him go on, till at last, in a paroxysm of self-com- placency, he exclaimed, ' Sir, I knows the natur of all things as is in the world ! ' ^T. 32] ^ REMINISCENCES OF COLLEGE LIFE. 31 The following reminiscences from one of his early friends, the Eev. E. N. Boultbee, addressed to the writer of this memoir, will throw further light on his character and early history : ' I regret,' he says, ' that I can give you no information as to the early part of your father's college life, as my acquaintance with him did not commence till after he had been elected a Fellow of Oriel, and taken his M.A. degree. He was the contemporary and great friend of my eldest brother at Oriel, and out of regard for him, when I went up to college, he took me by the hand, and was during my whole career at Oxford as an elder brother, friend, tutor — in a word, everything to me ; and to him I always consider that I owe my chief success in life. I was in the habit of walking out into the country with him two or three times a week, and during these rambles I was made the recipient of many of his most original thoughts, preserved in his Commonplace Book. Well do I remember the shady bank in Bagley Wood, where he first read to me the draft of the " Historic Doubts." ' I left Oxford in 1819, and we rarely met till he re- turned there as Principal of St. Alban Hall. There from time to time I used to visit him, and during these visits had frequently cause to regret how very much the influence he might have exercised in the government of the Uni- versity was lessened by his utter disregard of the customs and regulations of the place. ' On many a summer's evening did I walk with him in " beaver," as it was called, in Christchurch meadow, where every one was expected to appear in cap and gown, and where, to the horror of the "Dons," a crowd would be collected round him to Avitness the exploits of his dog " Sailor," a large spaniel whom he had taught to climb the high trees hanging over the Cherwell, from which he would often drop into the river below ; and this curious exploit of his dog he continued to exhibit, in the face of sundry grave remonstrances. Nevertheless his influence for good in the University was very considerable, the result of his transcendent talents and uncompromising honesty. As a preacher in the University, his powers 32 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1819 were fully appreciated, though his manner was far from attractive. Early attendance at the doors of the church on the days he preached was necessary to secure even a standing-place • ••••••• ' The way in which he would throw himself into the trifling amusements of society, was to me a very striking part of his character. During my residence at college we got up a chess club, limited to ten members, which met at each other's rooms. He was a good player, and at and after the supper which followed the games, he was the life and soul of the party, first and foremost in the jokes and charades, and fun of all kinds ; and many of our best songs were supplied by him. He was no singer ; I never heard him attempt it. But the rule was that those who could not sing must compose a song. ' Several of the songs in his collection were composed for the club, and sung by myself. ' One scene is, and will ever be, from particular circum- stances, very vividly before me. It was at the house of his great friend, Mr. B. of A. In the morning B , Whately, and myself had amused ourselves by lading a hole in the brook, for the sake of catching " bullheads," a small unsightly fish with which the brook abounded, and which were supposed to be very good. In the evening was a grand dinner — a magnificent turbot at one end of the table, and a dish of bullheads at the other, to which latter Whately most gallantly adhered. A certain lady, well known for her propensity for setting people to rights, called out, " I can't think, Mr. Whately, how you can eat those ugly-looking fish, with such a magnificent turbot before you ; they are so small !" He replied, without looking up from his plate, " If you had a whale on your plate, you must cut it in bits before you put it in your mouth !" I never shall forget how completely the wliole party were electrified and delighted with the extinguisher put upon the good lady.' ^l. 32] A TABLE AXECDOTE. 33 It was at this time, when dining with a friend in Wor- cester College, that a trifling incident brought out one of his happiest bons mots. There were some medlars on the table, and his host regretted that he had in vain tried to procure also some services {Pyrus domestica, a fruit which grows wild in Kent and Sussex, and is there called ' chec- quers '). One of the company asked the difference between a ' service ' and a ' meddler,' to which Mr. Whately replied, ' The same kind of difference as that between " officium" and " officiosus." ' 84 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1821 CHAPTER II. 1821-1830. Commencement of his active literary career — A contribntor to the ' Ency- clopaedia Metropolitana ' — His ' Historic Doubts respecting Napoleon Buonaparte ' and other works — His marriage — Appointed Bampton Lec- turer— Removes to Halesworth — Illness of ]\Irs. WTiat^ly — Takes his D.D.. and is appointed Principal of Alban Hall — Literary Society at Oxford — Testimony of Dr. Newman — of Dr. Mayo — Instances of his powers of anecdote and repartee — Letter to Dr. Copleston — His plan for educating his children — Sir Robert Peel and Catholic Emancipation — Supports Sir Robert, which leads to a breach with his early friends — Rupture with Dr. Newman — Elected Professor of Political Economy — Passing of the Catholic Emancipation Bill — Interests himself for the re-election of Sir R. Peel — Publishes the ' Errors of Romanism ' — Letter on National Distress. *This period of ^Miately's life was one of great and pro- ductive literary activity. He was a frequent contributor to some periodicals, and, in particular, to the ' Encyclo- pzedia Metropolitana:' and in their pages some of the works by which he became in after-life most celebrated, first appeared. In 1821, he edited Archbishop King's 'Treatises on Pre- destination,' and in 1825 he published his essays ' On some of the Peculiarities of the Christian Religion ;' which, with the essays ' On some of the difficulties in the Writings of St. Paul ' (1828), and on the ' Errors of Eomanism Traced to their Origin in Human Xature,* form a series which has gone through many editions, which first established his reputation as a theologian, and which brought down on him no small share of his unpopularity with some classes in the Chui'ch.^* * This may be tlie most convenient place for noticing his celebrated little pamphlet of ' Historic Doubts respecting Napoleon Buonaparte.' V JEt. 34] HIS MARRIAGE. 35 The materials for an account of his private life, during these years, are scanty. With a few early friends, not resident in Oxford, he appears to have maintained a full and frequent correspondence ; but of these hardly any survive, and of the letters in their hands none seem to have been preserved. He never kept any kind of journal ; he had special aversion to any work which he could not look forward to completing ; and often said if he were forced to undertake a life-long diary he should wish his life over. In the year 1820, being somewhat out of health, he was recommended to try the waters of Cheltenham, and went on a visit to his friend and pupil, Sherlock Willis ; and thus naturally became acquainted with his friend's aunt, Mrs. Pope, widow of W. Pope, Esq., of Hillingdon, Middlesex, who was at that time also residing at Chelten- ham with her daughters. For the third daughter, Eliza- beth, he formed an attachment ; and in the July of the following year was married to her at Cheltenham, by the Kev. Mr. Jervis, the rector. In what light he regarded his marriage as affecting the happiness of his life may be judged from a touching little memorandum in his Com- monplace Book of that year — the only outlet he ever allowed himself (and that rarely) for his inmost feelings. ' Happiness,' he remarks, in an article dated the year before, ' must, I conclude from conjecture, be a calm and serious feeling.' The following year he adds a note in Latin, ' I proved it, thank Grod ! July 18, 1821.' • We had in our hand recently the thirteenth edition of it, published when the nephew of its hero had become President of the French Republic, and there may haye been more since. It is directed against reasoners who argue thus (and writers on Hume's side are constantly falling into the confusion, intentionally or casually) : *' Miracles cannot bo believed on human testimony. But, in addition to this, the testimony on which you receive them is fall of inconsistencies and absurdities." The Whateleian answer is: " If no testimony will make miracles credible, then the character of the testimony is unimportant. But if it is important, then I will show you that a piece of well-known history — that of Napoleon, for instance — is as full of apparent inconsistencies and absurdities as the instances you cite from Scripture. And then, this task disposed of, we can attach ourselves, more closely to the issue which is the kernel — Axe miracles credible ot- no?"' — Edi7ihurgh Beview,. \ol. cxxii. D 2. 36 LIFE OF .\RCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1822 To speak of her wlio was now to be the companion of his life, is not easy for those who feel so deeply. To say that she was one fully able to appreciate his high quali- ties, is no more than truth, but falls far short of it. Those who remember the grace and dignity of character, the delicacy of mind, and sensitive refinement, which were united with her high powers of intellect and mental culti- vation, and a thirst for knowledge seldom exceeded, wiU not fail to recall intercourse with one so gifted as a pri- \ilege ; but many more still will remember, with deep reverence, the moral and Christian graces which adorned her ; the devoted unselfishness, the almost painfully sensi- tive conscientiousness, the gentle, tender, unwearied be- nevolence, and deep affections, all guided and regulated by the highest principles, springing from that living and loving faith in her Lord and Saviour, in the streDgth of which she lived and worked, and resting on which she died. \Miat she was to the poor, the sick, the ignorant, and the erring ; what her laboiu-s of love were in Dublin, where she carried out many blessed and Christian works which ended only with her life, many remain to testify ; but aU cannot be known till the great day when the sower and the reaper shall rejoice together. Shortly after his marriage Dr. AMiately settled in Ox- ford, where he took pupils. The following year he was appointed Bampton Lecturer, and his first published volimie contains the course of lectures then delivered. The subject he chose was one which much occupied his mind through life — the evils and dangers of party spirit.* He often observed afterwards that in this choice of a sub- ject he felt he was, as it were, ' breaking the bridge behind him,' and committing himself to a life-long combat against the evil he denounced. In the August of this year (1822 ), he removed to Halesworth in Suffolk, a living to which he had been presented by his imcle, Mr. Plumer, shortly before the death of the latter. It had been anticipated by some, that one whose life » ' On the Use and Abuse of Party Feeling in Religion,' 1822. A fourth edition was published in 1859. JEt. 35] TAKES HIS DEGREE AS D.D. 37 had been passed almost exclusively in a college, would be hardly fitted for the very different sphere of a country parish. And certainly it could not fail to present many difficulties to one so little accustomed to that kind of work. But Mr. Whately did not easily yield to difficulties, small or great ; whatever he undertook he set himself to master in right earnest, undeterred by discouragements or hindrances. He applied himself to remedy abuses and promote the welfare, temporal and spiritual, of his parish- ioners, by carrying out various plans of usefulness in those days little employed. In all these my motlier heartily co-operated. He established, among other means of im- provement, a weekly Bible lecture ; and it was at this that he delivered the series of discourses which form the basis of his ' Scripture Revelations on a Future State.' But these labours of love were to be brought to a very speedy close. The damp climate of Halesworth made serious inroads on his wife's constitution. Several times her life was in danger ; and more than once her husband's medical knowledge and singular presence of mind and promptness of action were called into play, both in her case and that of a sister who had come to nurse her, and had been herself seized with typhus fever of the most alarming kind. Her life seemed to have been, humanly speaking, saved by her brother-in-law's prompt decision and unwearied care. In 1825' Mr. Whately took his degree as Doctor of Divinity, and was in the same year appointed, by Lord Grenville, Principal of Alban Hall. On this he removed with his family to Oxford, intending to spend the vacations at Halesworth ; but after two or three years' trial, it became evident that even these occasional residences could only be continued at the risk of his wife's life. He therefore gave up residence, and, placing a valued and trusted curate in ' The following is the list, taken from the Oxford Calendars, of Principals and Vice-Principals of Alban Hall for a few years from this time : — 1825. Elrasley. Cramer, V.P. 1826. Whately. Newman, „ 1827 to 1834. Whately. Hinds, 38 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1825 the rectory, contented himself with solitary visits to the parish three or four times a year, passing the long vaca- tions with his family either at the sea, or at Timbridge WeUs, in the neighbom'hood of his wife's relations, to whom he was strongly attached. The new sphere of work at Alban Hall was apparently a more congenial one than that of Halesworth ; but the difficulties, in a different way, were quite as great. Alban Hall had gradually, either from neglect or mismanage- ment, become a kind of 'Botany Bay' to the University — a place where students were sent who were considered too idle and dissipated to be received elsewhere. But the new Principal was not one to suffer this, and with his usual energetic resolution he set himself to remedy the evil. He continued to get rid of some of the useless members ; and determined, first, never to receive into the Hall any who had been obliged to quit their college, and, secondly, to take his share in the lectures. And, lastly, he placed on a reasonable and moderate footing that scandal of many Oxford bodies, the ' Buttery ' establish- ment. These measm-es were quite sufficient to alter the character of the Hall, and eventually the numbers who resorted to it were so great that he built additional rooms, which were all occupied when he resigned. When Dr. Hinds succeeded Mr. Newman as Vice-Prin- cipal, the character of the Hall had already been estab- lished ; but he remembers that a few of the old set still remained, whom they used to designate ' Albani P aires * — well-conducted and respectable, but beyond the usual age of undergraduates. In the year of his settlement at Alban Hall (1826) are dated the letters now to be pre- sented to the reader. The first is to his friend Mr. Senior, on a subject which much occupied the minds of both — that of Political Economy. Both had done much to rescue this study from the undue prejudice with which it was generally regarded; and through life both laboured to bring the public mind to a clearer understanding of what it really was intended to teach, and of its importance to the general welfare of mankind. 38] VIEWS OX POLITICAL ECONOMY. 39 To N, Senior, Esq. • 1826. ' I have looked over your article, as well as the lectures,' and approve your design. You will see I have again mangled your first, though I think it much improved. As you will perhaps have several new hearers, it may be worth while to prefix a few sentences in vindication of the science, as that is what needs to be perpetually repeated in the most varied forms. It may be worth observing, that the pursuit of private wealth can be but harmless, and may degenerate into gross avarice, while that of public wealth is patriotism and charity ; yet those who think the former allowable, and themselves practise it, raise a sense- less outcry against the latter, like Seneca rolling in riches, and declaiming in favour of poverty ; and you may con- gratulate your hearers (some of them young enough to need being reminded of it) that the abusive names lavished on the study afford a presumption that it is not to be assailed by argument. As there are also many of them clergymen, or clerical students, they may be reminded, that to charge the science itself with every error, real or supposed, of every professor of it, is a procedure which they would not approve, if applied, as it easily may be, in the case of theology.' The next is addressed to his old and valued friend, Mr. Philip Duncan, who, together with his elder brother, were through life among his highly-prized associates. It is a criticism of a series of logical lectm'es which had just appeared : — ♦ Oriel CoUege, 1826. ' It is said that Sir W. Raleigh gave his bailiff some potatoes, with directions to sow them, having heard of their being cultivated with advantage in America. At the time appointed in his memorandum-book he sent him * Senior's Lectiires on Political Economy (to the Professorship of which science at Oxford, founded by Mr. Drummond of Albury, he had just been appointed) were published from 1827 to 1831. 40 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1826 to collect the produce, and received a handful of the berries. " Ah, well," he said, " I feared they would not do here ; go, plough the field and sow wheat." Now, if this ploughing had not casually turned up the potatoes, he might have written a treatise on the inexpediency of cultivating them. For "potatoes" read "logic," and, mutatis mutandis, you have Dr. Jardine's book.* He was doubtless right, on being appointed lecturer on a subject of which he was totally and profoundly ignorant, to teach something which he did understand ; thence, according to the common plan of measuring other men's corn by his own bushel, he concludes that what he cannot understand, or cannot teach, no one else can — that what- ever plan he has hit upon was untried before, etc. etc. But he seems on the whole to have been a good tutor con- sidering, and though his lectures were likely to give his pupils an extensive superficial and vanity-feeding smatter- ing, they had, probably, less of this fault than most of those in Scotland.' In a letter to his friend, the Eev. E. Hawkins (after- wards Provost of Oriel), written about this time, in answer to some criticisms on a recent article, he observes : — ' Dec. 1, ]826. ' You surely could not suppose me to mean that the catechism contains all that anyone can or need know re- specting the Christian religion. Had I thought that a grown man cannot become a better theologian than a boy of fifteen, I should not have devoted so many years to the study. But can he become more capable than that boy of acquiescing in an inscrutably mysterious doctrine, which is beyond the human faculties ? He may learn more of the •proofs, and of the practical results of it ; but surely no improvement in his understanding can give him more insight into the mystery itself, if it be such as man in his * Jardine, ' Outlines of Philosophical Education ; illustrated Lv the Method of Teaching the Logic or First Class of Philosophy in the Uni- versity of Glasgow,' 1818. V JET.Sd] LETTER TO THE REV. E. HATOIXS. 41 present state cannot comprehend at all ; in utter darkness, or in darkness impenetrable to the human eye, a strong sight, and a weak, must be on a level. You may see in my articles " One " and " same," and the passages in the dissertation there referred to, some of my reasons for not thinking the expression " of one substance " a sufficient guard of the doctrine of the Di\dne unity. Two guineas struck from the same wedge would be said, in a certain sense, and that a very common sense, to be of one and the same substance (as well as of one form, weight, &c.), and it is in this sense Eve may be said to be of the substance of Adam ; or two brothers, of one and the same (bodily) sub- stance ; or any child of the " bodily substance of its mother." When, therefore, one of the creeds has the ex- pressions, " Grod of the substance of his Father," and " man of the substance of his mother," without explaining that the same words in these two phrases are to be understood not in a corresponding sense, but quite differently, the result may be a misinterpretation of the expression in the other creed, " of one substance with the Father " ; for certainly a mother and her son are two distinct human beings. And, accordingly, L said there were just as much, and in the same sense, three persons in the Deity, as there were three persons in my room ; but that there was a mysterious unity of design and co-operation of agency. He did not, indeed, admit, totidem verbis, three Gods : in that sense, tritheists, no doubt, are rare indeed. But a distinct and deliberate confession of faith, even if itself correct, is not sufficient, if the habitual and practical impression on the mind of the generality — the notions insensibly and daily familiarised to them — be otherwise. The Papists persuade themselves that they are not idolaters, because they confess that " God only shalt thou serve^'' with latria, but they give adoration, dulia, etc., to saints and idols ; a distinction which, it is justly argued, would be practically insufficient even if originally correct. 'I shall perhaps add something about "necessity." Many are accounted " moral" certainties, which, stated with all the circumstances, are " mathematical " ; e.g. that you 4i> LIFE OF ABCHBISHOP WHATELT. [18% were in Oxford sash, a day, wbesn jaa wefe. To dei^ this, thoogli £alse, would not be a conkradietion, likeafiTe-dded square ; because it is abttractedhf eono^Table for you to be absent ; but if it be added (wbich is true and knawMe initadQ that yon were at full ISberty, and had a decided trtfl to be at QxfcHnd, then to deny your staying there, would be a contradiction ; since it wcMild impty an efiect without a c3Ti5^.' It was in this year (1826) that the 'Logic' waspuUished. This work had originally been written in articles f :r •'z.=^ ' Encyek^paedia Metropolitana.' *The task undeztak : ~ the writer was one of no r. Whatefy's great and emiii - 1 .7 successful effixrt to laise the stud^ fimm this infisnor : : n- dftimi tn aimirtlrhing apprna^iiig a araffwtifir. rhxr»^^-. The 'fihdboric' IbUowed the 'Logic' in 1828. Lim- its predeoessiM-, it had been originalfy written f ^EncydopaBdia.' The title, however Aristotdian, was : ' attractive one to genezal readers, and he often re^ it in after years, as giving an oroneons impresoim general scope and aim of the wodr; which is, in : series of le^tms on the art erf* OHnposition, and ; means to be employed for the arxangement of the : of a discourse, whether written or spoken, so as to ooit- > The Qzfiad FtaioBat; Ibu Wan, n a of ARUidwp JEt. 39] HIS FRIENDSHIP FOR ARNOLD. 43 vince the understanding, persuade the will, and move the feelings. Bishop Hinds has described the influence of the Oriel Common Eoom as a centre of literary and philosophical activity. Oxford, at that time, was distinguished by a constellation of talent and learning in various departments which has perhaps rarely been surpassed, if equalled, in any given time and place. Besides Copleston and Whately, the names of Newman, Pusey, Keble, iVrnold, Hawkins, Hinds, Froude, Wilberforce, Blanco White, and others, appear in that brilliant assembly of gifted and eminent men. Most of these were on intimate terms with the Principal of Alban Hall ; several were among his closest friends.* The ' Life ' of Dr. Arnold sufficiently bears testimony to that pure, warm, and noble friendship which united these two eminent men till the death of the younger. The respective marriages of the two friends still further sealed and cemented this happy union ; and the frequent inter- changes of visits from one circle to the other — parents and children alike enjoying the free and unrestrained inter- course of domestic life together, according to their several ages and pursuits — must ever be held in tender and grate- ful remembrance by the scattered and bereaved survivors of that happy band of friends. In the letters from Eugby, frequent and affectionate mention is made of the pleasure conferred by Dr. Whately's visits, his Hvely interest in his friend's concerns, his tenderness for the children, and his varied and interesting conversation. And Dr. AMiately never failed to bear a hearty and earnest testimony to the merits of Dr. Arnold. At an early stage of his career, his friend had pointed out, to those judges who were discouraged by the crudities of Arnold's early essays, the ' great capability of growth ' which he believed to be involved in these apparently unpromising attempts. How truly and fully his prophecy was carried out, the world now knows. It may appear strange that so few records remain of this friendship in the letters before us ; but Dr. Arnold 44 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP TTHATELT. [1828 was not in the habit of preserving correspondence, and one only, of which a copy has been made, remains of Dr. Whately's many letters to this loved and valued friend. With Mr. Keble much pleasant intercourse was enjoyed at Oxford ; and it was during a visit paid by him to Halesworth that the manuscript poems which now form the ' Christian Year ' were read by the writer to his host and hostess, who were among the earliest friends who suggested its publication. The familiarity of Dr. Tsewman with Dr. Whately, con- nected as it is with points of so much interest in the lives of both, belongs to this period of their history. And the account of it is best given in the words of the great Oxford leader's own ' Apologia ': — ' And now as to Dr. Whately. I owe him a great deal. He was a man of generous and warm heart. He was particularly loyal to his friends, and, to use the common phrase, " all his geese were swans.'' While I was still awkward and timid, in 1822, he took me by the hand, and acted the part to me of a gentle and encouraging instructor. He, emphatically, opened my mind, and taught me to think and to use my reason. . . . He had done his work towards me, or nearly so, when he had taught me to see with my own eyes, and to walk with my own feet. Not that I had not a good deal to learn from others still, but I influenced them as well as they me, and co-operated rather than merely concurred with. them. As to Dr. Whately, his mind was too different from mine for us to remain long on one line. I recollect how dissatisfied he was with an article of mine in the " London Eeview," which Blanco White good-humouredly only called Platonic. When I was divergiug from him (which he did not like), I thought of dedicating my first book to him, in words to the effect that he had not only taught me to think, but to think for myself. ... I have always felt a real affection for what I must call his memory, for thenceforward he made himself dead to me. My reason told me that it was impossible that we could have got on together longer, yet 1 loved him too much to bid him farewell without pain. ^T. 41] INTIMACY WITH KEBLE AND A^EWMAJ*}". 45 After a few years had passed, I began to believe that his influence on me, in a higher respect than intellectual ad- vance (I will not say through his fault), had not been satisfactory. I believe that he has inserted sharp things in his later works about me ; they have never come in my way, and I have not thought it necessary to seek out what would pain me so much in the reading. ' What he did for me, in point of religious opinion, was first to teach me the existence of the Church as a sub- stantive body or corporation ; next to fix in me those anti- Erastian views of Church polity, which were one of the most prominent features of the Tractarian movement.' ^ It was at this period of his later Oxford career, perhaps the happiest of his life, that his remarkable conversa- tional powers just began to be widely appreciated. The present opportunity may therefore serve for introducing a communication made to the writer of this memoir ^ Dr. Newman proceeds to describe the effect produced on his mind by another little book which appeared about the same time (1826), and which public opinion has uniformly attributed to AYhately : although, as he never avowed the authorship, the editor has felt some scruple as to mentioning it in connexion with his name. This able tract (it has been said) is now out of date, because the opinions respecting the separation of Church from State, which it advocated, strange then to a Chiirchman, are now held by all but a few Churchmen : — 'In the year 1826, in the course of a walk, Fronde said much to me about a work then published, called " Letters on the Church, by an Episcopalian." He said that it would make my blood boil. It was certainly a most power- ful composition. One of our common friends told me, that after reading it he could not keep still, but went on walking up and down his room. It was ascribed at once to AVhately. I gave eager expression to the contrary opinion, but I found the belief of Oxford in the affirmative to be too strong for me. Eightly or wrongly, I yielded to the general voice ; and I have never heard, then or since, of any disclaimer of authorship on the part of Dr. Wliately. The main positions of this able essay are these — first, that Church and State should be independent of each other : he speaks of the duty of protesting against the profanation of Christ's kingdom, by that double usurpation, the interference of the Church in temporals, of the State in spirituals; and, secondly, that the Church mayjustl}^ and by right retain its property, though separated from the State. The author of this work, whoever he may be, argues out both these points with great force and ingenuity, and with a thorougligoing vehemence, which perhaps we may refer to the circumstance that he wrote not in propria persona, but in the professed character of a Scotch episcopalian. His work had a gradual but a deep effect on my mind.' — Apologia pro Vita Sua, pp. 68-70. 46 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1828 respecting him by one of his associates of early times, Dr. Mayo the physician : — ' In latter years our lives were thrown into different channels, and I saw very little of him ; but I will make a few remarks as to what my early acquaintance with his intellect suggested to me. His aptitude for inductive and deductive reasoning was nearly equal ; and he once told me that his mental powers in early life changed from the pure scientific type to that which his friends recognised in him afterwards — namely, the dealing with contingent matter. 'None who knew your father well could forget the pleasm-e which his society afforded, but life with him was a continual performance of a series of duties ; and it is possible that his powers, as a man of great wit and vivid imagination, may not have been sufficiently understood except by his immediate friends, though his wit often transfused itself into his public speeches. Witness his reply to some one in the House of Lords, who recom- mended a system of frequent examinations into the acquirements of certain learners — that it was like puUing up a plant repeatedly by its root to see how it grows. Bacon has never found a cultivator who possessed more of his own acquaintance of the analogies embraced by real wit, than your father. I am giving you unconnected re- marks ; the following relates to his profession. From some conversation which I once had with him, I suspect that one of his greatest feats of self-command, under high principle, was his abstaining from extemporaneous preaching, in which he felt his own capacity for producing a great and remarkable effect, but which, if my recollection is correct,, he distrusted as an instrument of pulpit oratory.' Few eminent men, perhaps, have had more anecdotes and witty sayings ascribed to them than he has; but it must be owned, also, that few have had more apocryphal stories recklessly attributed to them. Even in his lifetime, anecdotes, puns, and riddles of the most inferior character, which had been going the round of third-rate newspapers and journals for years, were continually ascribed to him; ^T. 41] POWERS OF AXECDOTE AXD REPAETEE. 47 and he has been besieged with letters proposing answers to riddles and questions, attributed to him without a shadow of foundation. In fact, there was a peculiarity in his brilliant sayings which very few have been able to seize. He generally put forth an anecdote or a witticism as an illustration of some important principle, or to give point to some carefully- weighed and clearly-stated argument; but — as one who knew him well has justly remarked — the majority of his hearers forgot the argument, and remembered only the anecdote or jest. And, so repeated, his wit not only lost its force by being taken separately from the subject it was intended to illustrate, but was also likely to lead to the false impression that he was a mere propounder and retailer of 'good things,' as such, for no purpose but to make his audience laugh. The following fragments, from the pen of a valued friend and near connexion^ will illustrate the character of his powers of anecdote and repartee. One day, when con- versing with his friend, something was said on the subject of religious persecution ; on which he remarked, ' It is no wonder that some English people have a taste for perse- cuting on account of religion, since it is the first lesson that most are taught in their nurseries.' His friend ex- pressed his incredulity, and denied that Ae, at least, had been taught it. 'Are you sure?' replied Dr. Whately. ' What think you of this — Old Daddy Longlegs worCt say his prayers, Take him by the left leg, and throw him downstairs ? If that is not religious persecution, what is ? ' Being absolutely compelled, by the unwise solicitations of a clerical friend, to give his opinion as to that friend's performance of the service, he told him — ' Well, then, if you really wish to know what I think of your reading, I should say there are only two parts of the service you read well, and those you read unexceptionably.' — ' And what are those ? ' said the clergyman. — ' They are, " Here endeth the first lesson," and "Here endeth the second lesson." ' 48 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1828 ' What do you mean, Whately ? ' ' I mean,' he replied, ' that these parts you read in your own natural voice and manner, which are very good : the rest is all artii&cial and assumed.' It may be added that his friend took the hint, altered his style, and became a very good reader. He often related another incident, illustrating his strongly expressed opinion (see his ' Rhetoric ') that the natural voice and manner are the best adapted to public speaking and reading, and also less trying to the voice than the artificial tone so generally preferred. A clerical friend of his, who had been accustomed to make use of this artificial tone, complained to him that he was suffering so much from weakness of the throat, he feared he must resign his post. Dr. WTiately told him that he believed, if he would change his style of reading, and deliver the service in his natural voice, he would find it much less fatiguing. ' Oh,' said his friend, ^ th^t is all very well for you who have a pow^erful voice ; but mine is so feeble that it would be impossible to make myself heard in a church if I did not speak in an artificial tone.' ' I believe you are mistaken,' replied the former ; ' you would find that even a weak voice would be better heard, and at the expense of less fatigue, if the tone were a natiual one.' The other appeared unconvinced ; but meeting his ad- viser some time after, he told him he had at last come round to his view. The weakness in his throat had so increased that he was on the point of retiring from active duty, but resolved, as a desperate final effort, to try the experiment of altering his manner of reading and speak- ing. He did so, and not only succeeded beyond his hopes in making himself heard, but found his voice so much less fatigued by the effort, that he was able to continue his employment. To this period belongs the following letter, addressed to Dr. Copleston, who had been appointed Bishop of Llan- daff. ^Et. 41] , LETTER TO DR. COPLESTOX. 49 'Sept. 28, 1828. ' My dear Lord,— It would have given me the greatest pleasure to accept your friendly invitation, but that I am detained by what may be rightly called a press of business, i.e. business of the press. I have no hard work, however, to do, which makes me wonder the more that I have had a succession of bilious attacks, at short intervals, ever since I left Tunbridge Wells. They seem to be going about very much in many parts ; Mrs. W. has not been exempt. As soon as my present work is out of hand, I must set about preparing a new edition of the " Logic " — my " Logic," as it is always and will be always called. No acknowledg- ments will ever transfer to another the credit of a book which is published with one's name; the only way, I believe, in which it could be done, would be to make no acknowledgments, and indicate a wish to conceal the assistance received. ' By the bye, I forget whether I told you of a curious adventure of my brother's : he was transacting some busi- ness at the Bank, and having in one of the offices signed his name, the clerk politely asked whether he was the Dr. Whately from whose work on " Logic " he had derived so much gratification. My brother expressed his surprise; on which he told him that logic was his favourite study, and that he had felt particular obligations to this book. Presently he went into another office in the Bank, and there the clerk asked him the very same question. ' All this belongs as much at least to you as to me, and I hope it may mitigate your suspicion (which I have often heard you express), that the world is not ripe for a work of the kind. ' When you speak of Hawkins or me writing a tract for distribution, you should remember how long ago he wrote that excellent one, " The Christian's Manual," on which the Society ^ have been deliberating these two years, and have not yet placed it on their list. I should, perhaps, find it difficult to write what would give satisfaction at ' The Christian Knowledge Society. E 50 LIFE OF AECHBISHOF WHATELT. [1828 once to others and myself. Almost all former writers use argimients of which a Papist may and generally does avail himself; or such as are drawn from the Jewish Chiurch, which do not apply ; or drawn from a misinterpretation of the word " imity " as employed in Scriptme. And hardly any distinguish between the two very different cases, of a man who himself secedes, and one who has been brought up a Dissenter. The latter case is one of much difficulty. ' Your goddaughter threatens to outgrow her strength ; she requires constant care to support her imder such a prodigious shoot. She is very forward in understanding, but not alarmingly so. My plans of education fuUy answer my expectations : she has never yet learned anything as a task, and that, considering she has learned more than most, will make tasks far lighter when they do come : and she has never yet learned anything by rote, and I trust never will, till she tiuns Papist. ' They say a letter should be a picture of the writer ; if so, this ought to have been on yellow paper.' The allusion to his children's education is very charac- teristic. He greatly objected to teaching children to learn by rote what they did not understand. He used to say, that to teach thus mechanically, in the hope that the chil- dren would aftei-wards find out the meaning of what they had learned, was to make them ' swallow their food first and chew it afterwards.' ' When Mrs. "SMiately and I first married,' he observed, many years later,^ ' one of the first thin^ we agreed upon was. that should Providence send us children, we would never teach them anything that they did not understand.' 'Xot even their prayers, my Lord?' asked the person ad- dressed. ' Xo, not even then- prayers,' he replied. To the custom of teaching children of tender age to repeat prayers by rote, without attending to their sense, he objected even more strongly than to any other kind of mechanical teach- ing ; as he considered it inculcated the idea, that a per- ' At Dublin. yEx. 41] ^ LETTER TO REV. J. BADELEY. 51 son is praying when merely repeating a form of words in which the mind and feelings have no part, which is de- structive of the very essence of devotion. The following extract from a letter to the Kev. J. Badeley, on the spirit of persecution in and out of om* Church, will not be out of place here ; it is analogous to much which appears in his various essays on the peculiari- ties of the Church of Eome : — 'Alban Hall: April 3, 1829. ' I wish you to observe that the unpersecuting spirit of our Church is only that of (I would I could say all) her individual members : no declaration was ever made by our Chmch, as a body, that it is unchristian to inflict secular coercion and punishment on professors of a false religion. A man who should hold (as Bishop Jewel and others of the Eeformers did) the right, and the duty, of putting down heresy by civil penalties (though I should think him, so far, an unenlightened Christian) might be an un- impeachable member of our Church. He might defy you to show anything against him in the Articles ; and if you appealed to the Canons, you would find them all on his i side. Whether a man be Papist or Protestant in name, let him beware chiefly of Old Adam.' *This letter was in all probability occasioned by the controversy which agitated England this spring, respect- ing the admission of Roman Catholics to Parliament. In Oxford that agitation was felt with peculiar strength, be- cause, in addition to the general interest which politico- religious questions excited in its society, there was the special excitement occasioned by the personal question, whether Mr. Peel, the great promoter of the change, should continue to be member for the university. As for Dr. Whately's share in this temporary convulsion, it amounted I to no more than this, that he unhesitatingly supported a i measure of which he had always, in less promising times, [ professed himself the staunch adherent. But the effect [ produced on the knot of his friends and pupils was strong, and disheartening. It had no small influence in producing I E 2 52 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1829 the trials and difficulties of his after-life. It is particu- larly observable, that several of those who were most con- spicuous in the Oxford or Tractarian movement of some years later — nay, who followed that movement to its ulti- mate consequences, into the communion of the Church of Rome — ceased, now, to walk further with those whom, in their temporary Anglican zeal, they regarded, as traitors to the Establishment. Dr. Newman has avowed that this was the case with himself. 'In the beginning of 1829 came the grand breach between Dr. Whately and me ; Mr. Peel's attempted re-election was the occasion of it. I think, in 1827 or 1828, I had voted in the minority when the petition, to Parliament against the Catholic claims was brought into Convocation. I did so mainly on the views suggested to me by the theory of the " Letters of an Episcopalian." ... I took part against Mr. Peel on a simple academical, not at all on an ecclesi- astical or a political ground; and this I professed at the time. . . . Also by this time Iicas under the infiuence of Kehle and Froude, who, in addition to the reasons I have given, disliked the Duke's change of policy as dictated by liberalism.' Dr. Newman then proceeds to tell, with an infinity of quiet humour, the anecdote which has been quoted so often from his book, concerning the trick played by Whately on him, in inviting him to meet a dinner- party of the ' two-bottle orthodox,' as a playful punishment for his abandonment of the liberal side.* Henceforth, however, there can be little doubt that Whately felt his position in the University less agreeable than it had formerly been. Strong political excitement widened the breach of feeling which had always existed between him and the old ' high-and-dry ' majority of the residents. And those younger and more far-reaching spirits, with whom his sympathies had chiefly lain — of whom Newman, in his then state of jnind, may be taken as an instance — were now detached from him, not because they had joined the old school, but because they were forming to themselves a new school ; which began in fierce disapprobation of the ' Hberal ' mode of dealing with the JEt. 42] ' RUPTURE WITH NEW:MAN. 63 Church, and, after many vicissitudes of thought — from which Whately's unchangeable consistency was altogether alien — ended for the most part by abandoning that Church. Whately's adherents, beyond the limited circle of his attached friends, were now few, and shared his unpopu- larity. *In 1829 Whately was elected Professor of Political Economy, in succession to Senior ; his tenure of the office, however, was cut short, by his appointment to Dublin in 1831. He published an introductory course of lectures (1831), of which the main purpose, in accordance with his usual love for clearing up difficulties of thought by preci sion of language, was that of establishing the real scope and purpose of the science — which he described as ' to enquire into the nature, production, and distribution of wealth, not its connection with virtue and happiness.' To obviate the fallacies to which, in his opinion, the popular denomination of the science had given rise, he proposed to substitute for it that of * Catallactics,' or the science of exchanges. But this new nomenclature did not succeed.* In this year was passed the Bill for Eoman Catholic Emancipation, in. consequence of which Sir Eobert Peel lost his re-election at Oxford. Dr. Whately was among the very few 'heads of houses ' who gave him his vote and advocated his cause. Through life he maintained this principle firmly — that to exclude any class of men from public offices, in consequence of their religion, was to make Christ's a ' kingdom of this world,' which He and His disciples had distinctly and expressly disclaimed ; and also, that by tempting' persons whose ambition might be stronger than their scruples, to profess a religion they believed false, in order to insure their worldly advance- ment, such measures were holding out a premium to hypocrisy and false profession. He would not argue on the ground that such and such persons were not likely tc be Jit to hold office ; but he considered that the electors should be allowed to exercise their own judgment on such cases, and to elect the person they considered most worthy, 54 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1829 being responsible to God and their own consciences for their choice. He also considered that the real power of taking part in the government is given already, wherever the elective franchise exists ; and that to allow this last, and refuse a seat in Parliament, is simply to irritate the minds of the class excluded, without really crippling their power of action ; and he always appealed to history to show how uniformly the system of an excluded class, like the Helots and Gibeonites, had tended to injure the peace and pros- perity of a country.^ Dr. Whately often made severe and sarcastic remarks on the treatment Sir E. Peel at this time received from his former partisans ; those who supported him at this juncture being precisely those who had hitherto kept aloof from him, and vice versa. The editor of the 'Encyclopaedia Metropolitana,' to which Dr. Whately was so valuable a contributor, wrote to him at this time, to tell him he had directed his pub- lisher to forward him a copy of a poem of his own, on ' Catholic Emancipation.' Dr. Whately replied, with his usual plainness of speech, by expressing a hope ' he should not find more rhyme than reason in it.' The poem was not sent, but the editor evinced no mortification at the rebuff. It was about this time that Dr. Burgess, Bishop of Salisbury, having conceived a high opinion of Dr. Whately's powers from the publication of the 'Logic,' wrote to propose that he should bring out an edition of Chillingworth's ' Eeligion of Protestants,' with some additions of his own, offering to bear him harmless as to the expense of publishing the book in a cheap form for a wide circulation. But his extreme scrupulousness on the subject of independence of action, and dread of even seeming to be in the position of a party tool, induced him to decline. In 1830 was published the third portion of his series of > See the Annotations to Bacon's 21st Essay ' Of Delays.' ^T. 42] ^ OPINIO!s^S OlS THE NATIONAL DISTKESS. 55 religious essays : tliat entitled ' The Errors of Roman- ism.'' The letter which follows, written in the beginning of this year, speaks for itself. It shows the anxious care with which Dr. Whately endeavoured to apportion the relief of distress, so as to avoid the danger so often incurred in times of scarcity, of creating distress in one direction while endeavouring to mend it in another. * ' I feel great doubts about the expediency of the cheap-bread system — at least, if I rightly u^iderstand it. At first I thought it might only be a plan for checking exorbitant profits in the bakers, &c., by retailing, for a time, at wholesale price ; but your mention of a subscrip- tion to cover the loss, seems to imply that it is to be sold below prime cost. I need not say to you that I have no objection to bestowing charity, but I doubt the general expediency of this mode. If there is a certain quantity of corn in the country, which it is impossible (under the existing prohibition of importation) to increase, it is demonstrable that the more is eaten by one man, the less must be eaten by another. If, therefore, I buy a loaf, and give it to a poor man (or, which comes to the same, sell him two loaves at the price of one), I do a service indeed to that particular man, but, on the whole, I do nothing at all. It is true, the diminution of the total stock by that one loaf is imperceptible, the loss being immensely diffused and the benefit concentrated ; and so, if you beg a pinch of snuff from each of your acquaintance, you might fill your own box, and nobody would miss any ; but still it is demonstrable that (the total quantity being fixed) for every pinch of snulf in your box, somebody must take a pinch the less. In like manner it is demonstrable that you cannot benefit the poor in the way of food without increasing its quantity, though you may increase per- ceptibly the food of a small number at the expense of the community, and the quantity abstracted may be so small as not to be detected; but if the example (and every charity ought to be such as to set a good example) should 56 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1830-1 be followed in every parish, the consequence is de- monstrable, that those who partook of this charity would be better fed, and those who did not, worse fed (supposing always the total amount of food the same) than before — and that would be all. You are trying to lengthen the blanket by cutting off a strip at one end and sewing it on at the other. I should not, however, object to this if the cheap food were bestowed as a reward^ not on those in want merely, but on those of extraordinai^ sobriety, industry, and general good conduct. If good boys have a larger slice of cake than the rest, this does not indeed increase the amount of cake, but it may increase good conduct. I do not, however, understand this to be the case. ' I therefore, greatly prefer giving (or, which comes to the same, selling cheap) coals, clothing, and other articles of which the quantity given is not subtracted from the total stock, but is produced in consequence of the demand. Of coal a great deal is not raised, or, if even raised, ivS left wasted for want of an elBfectual demand ; and if some society of vast wealth and beneficence would give a suit of flannel a year to every poor body in the kingdom, the other consumers of flannel would even be benefited in getting the article cheaper, through the increased pros- perity of the manufacturers. ' As for food, I like particularly to have all the bones and scraps that would otherwise be wasted, collected for soup ; that does increase the quantity of food.' ^T. 44] NOMINATED ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 57 CHAPTER III. 1831-1832. His appointment to the See of Dublin — Various opinions respecting his elevation — Appears at a Levee without his Order — Climbing feats of his dog — Dissatisfaction at his elevation — Letter to Lady Mary Shepherd on his imputed Sabellianism — Letter to Bishop of Llandaff on his appoint- ment to the Primacy — Starts for Dublin — Attacked by a Birmingham mob — Narrow escape at Holyhead — State of Protestant Church in Ire- land— Question of Tithes — Arrives at Dublin— Enters on his official duties — His hospitable reception — His country-house at Redesdale — Anecdote of his rustic life — His simple tastes and pursuits — Apportions his time — His first Charge, and consequent exposure to public obloquy — Establishment of National Education system — Renewed hostility to the Archbishop and his measures — Founds a professorship of Political Econom}'^ — His weekly levees — Anecdotes of his Confirmation tours — His monthly dinners — Anecdotes of his controversial powers, and of his efforts to suppress mendicancy — Letters to Miss Crabtree — Letter to ]VIr. Senior on Secondary Punishments — His opinions on Secondary Punishments — Letter to Sir T. Denman on same subject. This was the last summer of bis Oxford life. The vacation, spent as usual between the seaside and his relatives at Tunbridge Wells, was closing, as it com- monly did, with one of the annual family visits to Dr. Arnold at Eugby, when the letter from Lord Grrey, offering him the See of Dublin, reached him, having been for- warded to him from Oxford : — ' Private, 'Downing Street: Sept, 14, 1831. ' Rev. Sir, — Having been ordered by the King to re- commend for his Majesty's consideration the name of a 58 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1831 person well qualified by his eminence in the Church to fill the vacant Archbishopric of Dublin, I have, after the most diligent enquiry, satisfied myself that T shall best accomplish the object which his Majesty has in view by proposing that you should be nominated to this high situation. ' I need not point out to you the important duties annexed to it, more especially at this moment, when the most unremitting care, under the direction of a firm, enlightened, and conciliating spirit, will be required to preserve the Church of Ireland from the dangers with which it is smTOunded. ' An anxious wish to engage in this arduous task the qualities best fitted for its successful execution, and the persuasion, derived from your high reputation, that they will be found in you, have alone induced me to make this offer, your acceptance of which will afford me the sincerest pleasure. May I request an early answer to this com- munication ? ' I remain, with great respect, sir, ' Your very obedient, humble servant, ' Grey.' Tlie sense of his merits and confidence in his powers, thus expressed by Lord Grrey, could not but be gratifying to him as well as to his friends ; but in other respects the announcement was one rather of painful anxiety than of pleasure. He received it in his usual manner. The letter was placed in his hands at the breakfast table ; he glanced over it, and, quietly putting it by, talked at breakfast of indifferent subjects ; no one suspected that it contained matter of so much interest to all present. ' He had a short struggle,' Mrs. Whately writes in her Eeminiscences, ' in making up his mind to accept an office which to him involved much personal sacrifice. He had to resign a mode of life to which he was much attached, with duties in which he took a great interest, and among friends whose society was both dear and agreeable to him : while, on the other hand, great and painful responsibilities. ^T. 44] J REASOXS FOR HIS ELEVATIOX. 59 duties as yet undefined, and difiSculties little known, must inevitably meet him in Ireland. To balance all which, he did not possess even the ordinary love of place or desire of distinction, in the vulgar sense of the word. Xor did he want wealth, for we enjoyed a competence which met our wants and wishes. But the conviction that an im- portant line of duty was opened to him, decided his acceptance.' That Whately's lofty character and high reputation as a scholar and a divine fully justified his elevation was admitted by all. But there was much speculation, at the time, as to what especial reason could have occasioned an appointment so much out of the common run, open to cavil from so many quarters, and so little ' safe 'in the ordinary ministerial sense of the word. Whately had neither family nor personal interest, nor connection with Ireland ; he was entirely detached from all party, religious or political ; he stood alone, in the insulation of a singu- larly proud as well as independent mind. We have Lord Grey's testimony (given in his lordship's evidence before the Committee appointed to enquire into National Educa- tion in Ireland, 1837), that when he offered him the arch- bishopric, he had never spoken to, -written to, or to his knowledge seen him." ' When he was appointed to the archbishopric,' says his friend and (at that time) almost inseparable companion, Bishop Hinds, ' his luork, its importance, its difficulties, and its responsibilities, absorbed all his thoughts. He said to me, again and again, " My brain is written within and without, lamentation, and mourning and woe ; " and applied to himself those lines of Virgil — Et me, quern dudum non ulla injecta movebant Tela, omnes terrent aurge, sonus excitat omuis. ' The external circumstances of his elevation, instead of being in any way compensatory, were not even a set-ofi' against the sacrifice of the free and independent habits of his life hitherto. The gilding of the pill served only to make it harder to swallow. The Order of St. Patrick, when 60 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1831 he was obliged to wear it, hung round his neck as a thing that was in his way, and which he would gladly, if he could, have taken into a corner. On his first visit to London he presented himself at William the Fourth's levee without it — not designedly, but simply because he had never thought of it. The King said to some one near him, " Is the Archbishop of Dublin ashamed of his Order ? *' The remark wa,s repeated, a message sent to Dublin for it ; and after a long search, and breaking open of some locks, it was found and despatched to him, in time for his being duly equipped in it on his next appear- ance at Court. ' He went to dine one day with the Lord-Lieutenant, and on this occasion the Order was not forgotten ; but in freeing himself from some annoyance it caused him, it became sadly misplaced. Lord Anglesey stepped to him and said, " Pardon me. Archbishop, but will you permit me to put your Order right ? " and proceeded to do so, the Archbishop goodnaturedly saying, " If I had earned mine as your Excellency has yours, I dare say I should think more about it." ' Another trait, cited by Dr. Hinds, of his manner of receiving this first announcement of his new dignity, is equally indicative of the same feeling. His love of exhibiting the climbing feats of his , dog in Christchurch meadow, has been alluded to by Mr. Boultbee. On this memorable visit to Rugby he had taken the dog with him. On the morning on which he had received Lord Grrey's letter, Dr. Hinds writes : ' A visitor arrived who was a stranger to him, and was asked out to see the feats of his climbing dog. The animal performed as usual, and when he had reached his highest point of ascent, and was beginning his yell of wailing, Whately turned to the stranger and said, " What do you think of that ? " Visitor : " I think that some besides the dog, when they find themselves at the top of the tree would give the world they could get down again." Whately: " Arnold has told you." Visitor : " Has told me what ? " Whately : " That I have been offered the Archbishopric ^T. 44] CHANGE IN HIS MODE OF LIFE. 61 of Dublin." Visitor: "I am very happy to hear it, but this, I assure you, is the first intimation I have had of it, and when my remark was made I had not the remotest idea that the thing was likely to take place." ' These recreations indeed were never entirely given up ; but the Whately of Christchurch meadow was changed — those pleasant chapters of his earlier life were closed for ever. A life of anxious toil, disappointment, misappre- hension— often fruitless labours, only repaid by obloquy — philanthropic efforts met with suspicion — the sickness of heart of frequent failures — all this and more awaited him ; fame indeed, and sometimes brilliant and gratifying tri- butes to his endeavours, valued friendships, too, to cheer him under trial ; but the rest and the freedom of his old life were gone, and on earth there was little that could replace it. But he laboured for no earthly reward, and through all the years of toil and trial which were now to fall to his lot he never seems to have repented the de- cision he had made, conscientiously and deliberately, at the call of duty. The words of his old friend the Bishop of Llandafif will further illustrate the spirit in which he entered on his new office. ' Dr. Whately,' writes the Bishop, 'accepted the arduous station proposed to him, purely, I believe, from public spirit and a sense of duty. Wealth, honour, and power, and title have no charms for him. He has great energy and intrepidity — a hardihood which sustains him against obloquy, when he knows he is discharging a duty, and he is generous and disinterested almost to a fault. His enlarged views, his sincerity, and his freedom from prejudice, are more than a compensation for his want of conciliating manners. When his character is understood, he will, I think, acquire more influence with the Irish than he would with the English.^ * He said in the House of Lords (Aug. 1, 1833), that on the first com- munication which he received from Lord Grey he made a spontaneous effort to consent to the diminution of ihe revenues of the see during his own life, provided it should appear that the general interests of the Protestant religion could be benefited thereby. 62 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1831 A similar tribute was given to his character by his friend Dr. Arnold, some time later : — ' Now, I am sure that, in point of real essential holiness, as far as man can judge, there does not live a truer Christian than Whately ; and it does grieve me most deeply to hear people speak of him as a dangerous and latitudi- narian character, because in him the intellectual part of his natiu^e keeps pace with the spiritual.' And again ; ' In church matters they (the Grovemment) have got Whateh', and a signal blessing it is that they have him and listen to him ; a man so good and so great that no folly or wickedness of the most vile of factions will move him from his own purposes, or provoke him in disgust to forsake the defence of the Temple.' *At the same time (and this appears to be the proper place to notice it), the appointment was one which gave great dissatisfaction to a large class of the religious as well as the political world. ^Miately's strong opinions (though he never had been so active as many others in lu-ging them) in favour of Catholic Emancipation were, no doubt, the fundamental cause of much of this opposition. Mere politics, imconnected with religion, had also a good deal to answer for in the matter. But there were num- bers, also, who honestly looked on him as a dangerous man, and all but heterodox in opinions. To us of this generation, who have to take our side in religious battles of far more searching importance — who are accustomed to see men, high in the confidence of respective chmxh parties, assume the boldest licence in approach towards Eomanism on the one side, and Kationalism on the other — it seems almost out of date to notice the special groimds of disqualification which were then urged against Whately. These were — his views on the Sabbatarian question, and certain doctrinal statements of his respecting the cha- racter and attributes of the Saviour, which were regarded as verging on Sabellianism. On the first of these subjects, religious opinion in general, in the Church of England at least, has pretty nearly come round to him ; the second is of an order which it would be out of place to discuss at ^T. 44] LETTER TO LADY MARY SHEPHERD. 63 length in these pages. Enough to say, that the hostility engendered by it is long ago forgotten, except by a very few champions of rigid verbal orthodoxy, who think it sin to make any allowance for the various forms under which Truth, on certain very abstruse subjects, presents itself to different minds, each equally determined to abide by it. ' To which of its members,' says a critic of some years later, ' is the Church — or the country — more indebted than to Archbishop Whately? But because he ventured to deny that the Fourth Commandment is still binding, and reminded his logical pupils that the word persona means not an individual but a character, he is believed by thou- sands to be a " dangerous man." ' * The following letter to a valued friend was written at this time, and has reference to the imputation of Sabel- lianism, to which allusion has already been made : — 'Alban Hall: Sept. 25, 1831. ' Dear Madam, — Having in the last (4th) edition of the " Logic," recast and enlarged the article " Person " in the Appendix, I had a few copies struck off separate, for the use of such of my friends as possessed (which is probably your case) the earlier editions. The other articles re- lating to the same subject remain unaltered. I have, as you may suppose, little time for writing, but, if I had more, I could not presume to attempt a full explanation of so mysterious a subject. Part of what Scripture declares to us we shall, perhaps, be only able to comprehend when our faculties are enlarged in a better state. I agree with most divines in this, that they set out by admitting the nature of the Deity to be inscrutable ; what I differ from them in is, that most of them proceed in the same breath to give a metaphysical explanation of it. I recommend you by all means to study Hinds' " Three Temples of the One Grod," ^ and, I may add, all the works of the same author. > 'Three Temples of the One True God contrasted." 1830. 64 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1831 ' My present appointment — a call to the helm of a crazy ship in a storm — is one which nothing but an overpower- ing sense of duty would have induced me to accept. Let me hope for your prayers, that I may be supported in my appalling task, and enabled to bring at least some frag- ment of the wreck into the haven. ' Believe me, dear madam, yours very faithfully, 'K. Whatelt.' To The Lady Mary Shepherd. To the Bishop of Llandaff, ♦Sept. 28, 1831. ' My dear Lord, — You forget that when ^neas was requested to give the details of his adventures, he had, for the present, got through them, and was placed comfort- ably on a sofa over a bowl of wine ; whereas I am just launched on the stormy sea, and too intently thinking of each particular before me, to have leisure to look back. But I hope to have half an hour's comparative comfort soon, and to talk over matters with you by word of mouth. ' I am designing to start for Dublin the beginning of next week, and hope to be back soon, to help in the ar- rangements for removing my family ; for we are despe- rately hurried to accomplish our departure tolerably early in the autumn. I could not think of moving a delicate wife and five young children in winter. ' You have known me too long not to know how harass- ing it is to me to have to make up my mind on a hundred different points every day, instead of concentrating my mind on a single pursuit, which is to others the severest kind of labour. What is properly called business is the specific poison to my constitution, and I apprehend will completely wear me out in a very few years, especially from the want of long vacations to recruit. And what is most provoking is, that what is designed to be, and gene- rally is, the appropriate reward (the /jbiados) for the drudgery of persons in high office, viz., as Aristotle says, the TLfjuT) Kol yspas — rank, state, pomp, precedence, &c. — is JE^, 44] ^ VIEWS OF THE STATE OF IRELAND. 65 to me just so much additional plague. I would rather work with Paul at his trade of tent-making, or have to go out fishing with Peter. And a formal dinner-party, even at Oxford, is a bore which I would gladly commute for nine-and-thirty stripes, I do not know that I have less vanity than the generality of men, but mine is all of a personal kind (I do not mean in respect of bodily person), not connected with station. The offer of Archbishop was gratifying to my " organ of approbation " — the acceptance of the office is martyrdom. ' The more I learn, from the most authentic sources, of the state of Ireland, and especially of the Church there, the more appalling does the danger appear. It is too late, I fear, to think of unexceptionable expedients to meet the emergency. It is a great loss to cut away masts and throw the cargo overboard, but the ship is on the eve of foundering. Some decisive steps must be taken, and that very speedily, if the Irish Church, or indeed Ireland, is to be saved. And in such a case, whoever objects to my proposed expedient may fairly be called on to suggest a better. I see clearly the alarming precedent involved in Senior's suggestion, and have pointed it out to him. Can any way be thought of for paying the Eoman Catholic priests without, at least openly, drawing the funds from our own Church ? I am anxiously turning my thoughts towards the problem, though without a hope of devising any scheme altogether free from objections. Tithe-com- mutation, I am convinced, is one necessary step. In large districts of Ireland the Established Church is such as, by the help of a map, you might establish in Turkey or in China — viz. no place of worship, no congregation, no payment.' To Bishop Copleston. 'Dublin: Thursday, Oct. 13, 1831. ' My dear Lord, — Many thanks for your advice, which, as far as I can at present judge, I do not think I am likely o depart from ; but I can decide nothing positively till after my return to Oxford, where probably a letter from F 66 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1831 Lord G. is waiting for me, in answer to one I wrote to him containing nearly the substance of what I had written to yoii. ' Hinds will. I trust, reach Oxford to-day, where he is wanted. His sermon last Sunday at the Bishop of Killaloe's consecration was much admired. My brother preaches for me next Sunday, as I hope. The business which is now overpowering me is, I fear, nothing to what I am to expect. And the worst of it is, that our work in Ireland is like the labour in the trenches before a besieged town ; it is all under a heavy fire. The Papists are goaded to madness by perpetual causes of irritation, and yet the Protestants are like the Jews in their last siege — tearing each other to pieces whenever the Romans gave them a respite. ' P.S. — When I am Archbishop, pray addi'ess me by whatever designation affords the most pleasing associations to your own mind ; if they are connected with yom' old pupil, Whately, my dignity will not be at all shocked.' ^ To the Provost of Oriel (Rev, E. Hawhins), ' Oct. 20, 1831. ' As for my present situation, I am sorry to say you must prepare for much disappointment ; for I can see from the whole tone of your letter that you (in common with most people in England) have no more idea of the state of things here at present, than the Isis at Oxford would give of the Atlantic Ocean. AVhen you talk about this and that form of inconvenience or discomfort which I must be prepared for, and the set-ofifs against them .... it is like discussing the cabin accommodations in a shif> wliich is drifting on the rocks in a storm and leaking at every seam. ' The Established Church in great part of Ireland is virtually abolished. I have not time to give you the proofs ; but unless very strong and speedy measm-es be adopted, the Church here, and subsequently in England, ' It is characteristic that when writing to old and intimate friends he signed himself through life — ' R. W.' JEt. 44] DEPARTURE FOR DUBLIN. 67 .... I shall probably survive Your prayers at least I may rely on for my support and guidance in this most arduous task.' In October 1831, accompanied by his brother, the Rev. Thomas Whately, and his friends. Dr. Hinds and Messrs. Hugh Acland and Sherlock Willis, he started for Dublin, where his consecration was to take place. ' It had been arranged,' writes his friend Dr. Hinds, ' that he and Dr. Knox, who had been appointed to the Bishopric of Killaloe, should be consecrated together at the Castle Chapel. When the morning arrived, a little before the hour of service. Dr. Radcliffe discovered that he had not resigned Halesworth ; and informed him that, by being consecrated before he had vacated the English living, he would violate the law, and that the penalty would be the forfeiture both of the archbishopric and the living, and also (if I recollect rightly) the being rendered incapable of holding any other ecclesiastical preferment either in England or in Ireland. It was, of course, neces- sary to postpone his consecration.' This delay obliged Dr. Hinds to return to Oxford without waiting for his friends. The ceremony took place in St. Patrick's Cathedral, and immediately afterwards the whole party returned to England. It may easily be supposed that he left the scene of so many years' labours and interests with feelings of pain. 'The year 1831,' writes my mother, 'had been pliysically and politically disturbed throughout the whole of Europe. The cholera had just reached England, and gave an addi- tional feeling of imcertainty, in parting with our friends, whether we should meet again.' A journey to Ireland was a very different thing then to what it is in these days of express-trains and swift- sailing steamers. To a family party it was, necessarily, a slow and rather anxious undertaking ; and in this case it had nearly been a very eventful one, the Archbishop being twice preserved from imminent danger in the course of it. The travelling-party was a large one, Mr. Sherlock F 2 68 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1831-2 Willis and Dr. Hinds being included, the latter in the capacity of domestic chaplain. At Birmingham they had an alarming proof of the excited state of public feeling. The bishops, having generally voted against the Eeform Bill, were exceedingly unpopular : and when the family stopped at an hotel, the carriage was surrounded by a dense mass of squalid and lowering faces, ready apparently for any violent act. Some of them began to rub off the mud which concealed the coat-of-arms on the carriage ; fortunately it was an old family one, with no episcopal insignia ; otherwise the Archbishop, who had always voted for Eefonn, would in this instance have probably fallen a victim to anti-episcopal feelings ; but the conviction of the mob, that a prelate must travel with the distinctive marks of his rank, saved him. Two or three days later he had an escape of a diflferent kind at Holyhead. On stopping for the night, he sallied forth, according to his custom, for a late stroll with Mr. Willis ; the pier was then in progress, and being ill- lighted, they came unawares on an open quarry. Mr. Willis, who was foremost, had just time to cry ' Stop ! ' while himself in the act of falling. He was taken up insensible and severely hurt, and ten days were spent at Holyhead before the travelling party were able to com- plete their journey and land at Howth, in the end of November. The letter which follows, to Bishop Copleston, is suffi- ciently explained by this account : — 'Dublin: Nov. 19, 1831. ' My dear Lord, — You will, I dare say, be glad of a hasty line — though I have no time for more as yet — to i say that we have arrived safe. Willis has a tedious wound B in the face, but is in no danger, and is able to go about, m My wife has borne all her trials, including severe sea- [li sickness, better than I could have hoped. I do think the |,g i wanton disregard of life shown by leaving open a deep m\ pit, quite unfenced, close to the footway in a street, ap- ■ proaches near to murder. It was a dark night, and he a I ^T. 45] THE PROTESTANT CHURCH IN IRELAND. 69 step or two before me, when I saw him suddenly vanish, and heard a heavy fall, followed by a groan, which I thought was probably his last. When drawn out, his first word, on recovering his senses, was to express his joy that it had not happened to me ! These are the occasions on which the true hero shows himself.' *In order thoroughly to understand and to appreciate the conduct of Whately in accepting the Archbishopric of Dublin, it is necessary to bear in mind the critical (and apparently most desperate) state of the Protestant Church of Ireland, referred to by Lord Grrey in the letter already cited, which then prevailed. The first onslaught of the strong and compact Irish democracy, after it had obtained its great triumph of Catholic Emancipation, and aided in the triumph of Parliamentary Eeform, was directed against that Church. Then commenced the organised resistance to the payment of tithes, which for a while seemed to imperil its very existence as an Establishment. And the Whig Grovernnient were deemed by the great body of its clergy little better than traitors, ready to abandon them to the common enemy as soon as they could do so without absolutely outraging public opinion. *It may serve as a convenient index to the contents of much of his correspondence, during this and the following years, to give in this place a summary of the Parliamentary history of the great struggle which occupied them. *In November 1831 the Newtownbarry riots, and the September following those at Wallstown, excited to the utmost the mutual exasperation of parties. Tithes almost ceased to be collected through a great part of Ire- land. In 1832 two Committees of the House of Lords sat on the subject, and a variety of schemes for reimbursing the Irish clergy the heavy losses which they had sustained, and for settling the question of Tithe itself, were agitated during that and the following years — to which frequent reference will be found in these pages. Dissatisfied with their prospect of Parliamentary redress, the friends of the Church in Ireland organised, in 1835, an association for 70 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1832 the purpose of recovering tithes by exchequer process, which had considerable success, and a little daunted the assailants. *In this state of things a naeasure was devised (1835) for the payment of arrears to the clergy by Government, reimbursable by a land-tax. But, on the attempt being made to place the whole matter on a permanent basis, a new and formidable question arose. *0n the 30th March, 1835, Sir Robert Peel being then prime minister. Lord John Russell proposed that the House of Commons should resolve itself into Committee for the purpose of considering the state of the Irish Church, with a view to applying any surplus left over from spiritual objects to the education of the people at large. The re- solutions were carried, by a majority of 43, in a house of 611 members, on April 3. A second division having re- affirmed the principle. Sir Robert Peel resigned. *Lord Melbourne having succeeded him, theministerial measure respecting Irish Tithes, embodying the principle, was brought forward on June 21, and it passed the Com- mons by a small majority ; but the 'appropriation clauses' were struck out in Committee of the Lords, and Ministers consequently abandoned the Bill. *In 1836 the Tithe measure again passed the Commons, and the appropriation clauses were again rejected by the Lords. In 1837, the resumption of the question was pre- vented by the death of the King, and consequent dissolu- tion. In 1838, Lord John Russell declared his intention of waiving perseverance in the irritating conflict between the two Houses which had continued so long, and em- bodying the principle contended for in some new measure. And therewith, after some more party divisions on inci- dental questions, the subject dropped ; and a Bill, com- muting tithe for rent-charge in Ireland, was quietly passed, without those clauses which had caused the fall of one ministry, and seriously endangered another.* ^T. 45] ARRIVAL m DUBLIN. 71 To the Provost of Oriel. ' Dec. 1831. ' I sent you a letter for C in answer to some in- quiries made for me ; for you are to know I am likely to be summoned to town after Christmas to give evidence before the Tithe Committee. ' I am well aware of the Irish tendency to exaggeration ; and so I am of one of its natural consequences, English extenuation ; for we have cried Wolf so often that now we are not believed when the wolf is really come. I should not wonder if some, and perhaps Mr. among the rest, were to suppose that the multitude of clergy who are now reduced to absolute want, have only to resort to the simple exj)edient of " tiling a bill in Chancery," twvj, to obtain their dues. It reminds me of the French princess, who wondered any people should be so silly as to die of famine, when, for her part, she would not mind living on bread and cheese." ' The circumstances in which Dr. Whately found himself on first arriving in Dublin were thus very trying. Over and above those arising from his being a stranger suddenly placed in a novel position, full of anxiety and responsibility under the most favourable circumstances, there were pecu- liar sources of trial and difficulty in his case. He had to meet the strongest prejudices in tliose brought into closest contact with him ; and circumstances arose very soon, which brought him into painful collision with the greater number of those to whose support, under happier auspices, he might have looked, and whose opposition could not but be specially painful and distressing to him. He bore all without a word of complaint, but his nerves were so overwrought, and his pulse became so high, that serious apprehensions were entertained for his health. Other causes of a more gratifying nature, tended to keep up nervous excitement. He was a distinguished stranger, both personally and officially, and Irish hospitality was 72 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1832 poured on him with all its genuine warmth and cordiality. He was entertained not only at the Viceregal Lodge, but by all who considered themselves entitled to invite him. To some dispositions this might have been a relaxation, but with him it was otherwise. He felt it as a demand on him that he should do his part in general conversation, at a time when he had no leisure, thought, nor feeling for it. At all times, though peculiarly fitted to shine in general society, he withdrew himself from it as much as he was able, preferring the society of his more intimate friends, and principally that of his own clergy, with whom he could feel more at ease. With the Lord Lieutenant, the late Marquis of Angle- sey, he was on terms of the most friendly cordiality ; but, except at regular dinners at the Castle or Lodge, their intercourse was chiefly official, for morning visits and evening parties were alike distasteful to him. But it was impossible to live in Dublin and not to be under a continued pressure; and the result might have been very serious to his health, had he not engaged a country place (Eedesdale), about four miles from Dublin, which was henceforth his chief abode, till within three years of his -death. ' That charming country residence,' writes one who was with him at the time, ' afforded just the kind of repose and relaxation which he required. There he could stroll about his garden, and, without the same oppression of spirit, think or talk over what required deliberation, while he was budding, pruning, turning up the earth with his spade, or making some novel experiment on tree or shrub. The easy distance from Dublin enabled him to be at the Palace for transacting business, between breakfast and dinner ; and he always returned home with a holiday feeling, whatever work he might have to do there in thinking or writing. To the last, however, the receiving and giving of entertainments was a service of duty.' The chief part of the year was then passed by the whole family at Eedesdale. His habits were now pretty much as thej continued through life. He rose between seven Mt. 45] HIS COUNTRY-HOUSE AT REDESDALE. 73 and eight, and employed himself while dressing in medi- tating the subjects of letters, sermons, or literary under- takings ; he then spent an hour, less or more, in his garden. He took delight in performing the ordinary garden operations with his own hands, sometimes working hard at digging, lopping boughs, or felling trees ; at other times engaged in the lighter occupations of budding and grafting, in which he displayed much skill and ingenuity. ' His observation of nature,' writes a friend who knew him well, ' was most universal and accurate, and nothing rare or monstrous in the works of nature escaped him. His remarks on, and explanations of, any phenomena in natural history were most acute and ingenious. His botanical knowledge was considerable, and his acquaint- ance with practical gardening far superior to that of the generality of gardeners. He delighted in experiments on the culture of plants and trees ; in budding, grafting, in- arching, and other modes of propagating plants. His fondness for arboriculture indeed was a constant resource and agreeable relaxation ; and his combinations of one species of plant with another on the same stems, by " ap- proach-grafting," made his grounds at Kedesdale a very chaos of whimsical curiosities. ' Nec longuin tempus, et ingens Exiit ad coelum ramis felicibus arbos, Miraturque novas frondes, et non sua poma. ViRG. Georff. ii. 80. ' The grounds of the friends with whom he stayed bear marks, to this day, of his enchanter's hand and knife ; and his friends cherish these diversions of his multiform genius with careful remembrance, recalling his wise observations or ingenious conjectures, as he tried his experiments or perpetrated his varied outrages on nature. ' He was particularly fond of books of natural history and gardening, and was well versed in old Grerard's Herbal. He rarely forgot anything worth recalling in his varied reading. He had an Irish gardener at Eedesdale at one time who was clever and skilful, and as conceited as if he 74 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. ri832 had climbed to the verv summit of the tree of knowledge. One day, as he was relating some of his boasted achieve- ments in gardening, his master asked him, ironically, whether he had ever raised plants hj capillar y attraction? To which the gardener, totally unconscious of the joke, replied unhesitatingly, " Oh I surely, my lord." ' His love of animals of all kinds was a striking featm^e in his character ; there was scarcely a living creature, whether high or low on the scale of animated natme, which he did not take a pleasure in taming and watching. He could not walk round his meadow without stopping to lure the cows to follow him to be fed with branches ; and even the habits of a frog or a snake would be watched with interest. To him these pursuits were never frivolous ; the smallest incident that could illustrate the wonderful adaptation of the habits of animals to their safety and welfare, was brought forward by him, and illustrated with the simple clearness of Paley in his ' Xatural Theology.' ' Do you know,' he would observe, ' why a dog never lies do'svn till he has turned roimd and round three times ? It is manifestly an instinct given him in reference to his wild state, in which he would require to clear a space for his lair in the midst of grass or brushwood.' He break- fasted late and irregularly, but he liked to have his family and friends sitting with him to converse, and this was often the time when his thoughts would flow forth most freely to others : sometimes throwing out in conversation the rough draught of some future work — sometimes gi\*ing a young person present a lecture on Logic, or Oreek, or Mathematics, or Political Economy. The range of sub- jects on which he took a lively interest was a very -wide one. But those which concerned the condition of man- kind, whether mentally, socially, or politically viewed, were his favourites. Aristotle's Ethics was a textbook from which he loved to teach. Another standard favoiu-ite was Thucydides. There were passages from the History of the Plague at Athens, of the Corcyraean Sedition, &c., which he would quote almost verbatim, and with the most animated and en- jEt. 45] HIS FAVOURITE AMUSEMENTS AXD BOOKS. 75 thusiastic delight. One passage relative to the character of the Athenians as a nation, to their dauntless courage and unflagging perseverance in war and conquest, is identified by all who were much in his society with his peculiar manner and voice. It always used to inspire him, he would say, with emulation, as being the very picture, mutatis mutandis, of a noble Christian public spirit. None who were often in his society were likely ever to forget the earnest enthusiasm with which he would repeat : — ' Whatever good appears to be within their power to attain by exertion, to leave it unattempted seems to them to be like losing their property {oUeioyv arspsaOaL) ; if they fail in any enterprise, they set up some fresh hope of some other compensating advantage, and take the requi- site steps to meet the present emergency. When success- ful, they of all men advance the furthest; when defeated, they fall back the least ; they reckon it a holiday — a day of festival, recreation, and rest — to perform some service for their country : thus they proceed through their whole life, in toils and perils, so that one might rightly describe them as born to have no repose themselves nor to allow any to others,' &c., &c. ' Now they do it to obtain a cor- ruptible crown ! ' The middle of the day was devoted to business and literary labours, but when in the country, half-hours were snatched for rambles or gardening. Nor were tliese sea- sons of exemption from mental toil, for, as his friend has observed, it was his habit, while apparently absorbed in some experiment on shrub and tree, to meditate over the sermons or essays he had in hand ; and often he would remark, that almost every tree and bush in his shrubbery walks was associated in his mind with the subject of some one of his various works. In the early part of the evening, when with his family, he generally read to himself, and enjoyed listening at the same time to music. He knew little of the art, and cared little or nothing for the classical or scientific ; but any marked and simple melody pleased him, and he had a remarkably accurate and retentive memory for favourite 76 LIFE OF ABCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1832 tunes — asking for them again and again, and even recol- lecting them when played to him in his last illness. He played well at chess and backgammon, and often found it a recreation after the business of the day : but reading was his most usual evening employment. He read with great rapidity, and had a remarkable power of seizing and retaining the cream of every book he took up, even those which he had seemed to ' skim through.' For tales and novels, except a few old fevourites, he cared little ; his favourite light reading was in the way of travels, natural history, arts and inventions, and books of stirring adven- ture— especially descriptions of savage life, and of charac- teristic manners and customs in various countries. He retired, however, at an early hour to his study, and was generally engaged in writing tiU late at night. The recreations we have mentioned, needful as they were to enable him to keep up his strength, were after all but- short and interrupted ; the amount of labour on which he had to enter was immense and varied, yet no subject which came before him was dismissed without accurate and close consideration. The Archbishop's chaise, delivered this year, exp(»ed him to serious animadversions. The Asiatic Cholera was for the first time raging in Ireland, and the dismay and excitement were general. At such a time, he felt the im- portance of pointing out certain dangers and errors, to which men were tempted imder so new and alarming a state of things. Especially he believed it his duty to protest against the prevalent tendency of declaring this affliction to be a national judgment, and not only this, but a judg- ment for the sins of the Ministry ; which led men often rather to take cognisance of other men's sins than their own, and, instead of * humbling themselves under the mighty hand of God,' to pass judgment rashly on those of whose political or other opinions they disapproved. In thus protesting against a tendency peculiarly likely to prevail at such times, it was impossible the Archbishop could escape running directly counter to a large number ^T. 45] HIS. CHARGE TO HIS CLERGY. 77 of those about him, whose views on this subject differed widely from his own. Nor was this all : the practical part of his charge dis- pleased some, as much as the theoretical part did others ; and as the remarks he then made as to the duty of his clergy in times of pestilence have been grossly misrepre- sented, it is needful to allude to them here. He has been accused of discouraging the clergy from visiting cholera patients ; and this has been ascril3ed by some to undue terror of the disease, and by others to a desire to make himself popular with his clergy 1 To those who knew him, it is needless to observe that neither of these motives could have the smallest influence with him at any time, as he was incapable of harbouring them ; but the fact is, what he did say has been misrepresented. As long as a man was in a state to be benefited by pastoral exhortation — as long as his soul might really be stirred up to repent and turn to his Saviour — the Archbishop would at all times have been the last to discourage the visits of his clergy to the sick. What he did deprecate, was the well-meant but useless deVotedness of those who went to pray and read with patients already delirious or insensible ; whose minds could not be aroused, or consoled, or instructed, and with whom, therefore, no rites administered could be of any avail, in the estimation of Protestant Christians, who consider that the benefit of prayers and sacraments must depend on the state of mind of the recipient. To administer the Lord's Supper to one §o enfeebled and prostrated, by pain and disease, as to be unable spiritually to enter into the bless- ings of the ordinance, the Archbishop regarded as a pro- fanation of the rite.^ It can be easily seen, even thus far, that the Archbishop was now placed in circumstances of no ordinary difficulty and trial. As has been observed, he had to encounter prejudices of many kinds : first, as an Englishman and an Oxford scholar ; then, again, as the appointment of a * * I feel sure,' are his words, ' that no sense of personal danger will deter you from doing your duty as Christ's ministers, on any occasion where you can be of real service to the souls of men.' 78 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1832 Whig Ministry — this being, in the eyes of many in Ireland at that time, sufficient to imply at once reckless Liberalism and encouragement of Popery. Then, again, rumours had reached them as to his religious opinions, of which very little was known in reality, and much conjectured which was sufficiently remote from the truth. He did not ' wear the regulation uniform,' or express himself as they had been accustomed to hear orthodox divines express themselves : and therefore many hastily concluded he must be heterodox, though how and in what way they, perhaps, would hardly have been able to ex- plain. Vague rumours that he was a Papist, a Socinian, one who taught universal scepticism, &c. &c., were cir- culated and believed by many who had never heard him speak, or read a line of his works. But this was not all. An event occurred within the first year of his installation which tended, more than almost any other could, to increase this prevalent spirit of hostility against the new diocesan. This was the establishment of the celebrated system of National Education, introduced chiefly through the instrumentality of Mr. Stanley (after- wards Earl of Derby), then Chief Secretary for Ireland.^ The question was one of absorbing interest in the country ; and the feeling, when the outline of the plan was made known, was one of general dismay among a very large body both of the clergy and laity. It was then and afterwards affirmed that Dr. Whately had been sent to Ireland for the very purpose of carrying out the system. It is not the fit province of a work like this to give a detailed history of the operation of this system in Ireland, The full and complete history of the whole undertaking must be left to better-qualified pens and later times. Per- ' In Sept. 1831, the system established by the Kildare Street Society having fallen into disfavour as too exclusive, JVIr. Stanley moved for and obtained the sum of 30,000/. to be employed for educational objects in Ireland, and a Board was created to superintend the distribution. Such -was the com- mencement of the system in question, in the very month of Dr. Whately's appointment ; but the writer of this memoir can bring the Archbishop's own repeated declarations in testimony that he was never consulted about it till after his settlement in Ireland. ^T. 45] THE NATIONAL EDUCATION SYSTEM 79 haps it is scarcely possible till more years have passed, and the freshness and vehemence of personal feeling have subsided, that the whole should be viewed, as every trans- action ought to be viewed, with the eye of an historian, and not of a partisan. That the Archbishop entered on the undertaking with the most earnest and single-minded desire of extending the blessings at least of civilisation and intellectual cul- ture, and, as far as he thought practicable, Scriptm-al knowledge likewise, as widely as possible among his adopted countrymen of all creeds, no one who knew him could for a moment doubt. It was mainly through his instrumentality that a considerable portion of the Scrip- tures— a work of his own on the Evidences of Christianity, and a volume of Sacred Poetry — were introduced. For years he laboured diligently to carry out the system in its integrity ; and it was only when, as it appeared to him, the system had been infringed, and the public broken faith with, by the withdrawal of books deliberately sanc- tioned by the Directors, and to whose circulation they had pledged tliemselves, that he withdrew from a work he could no longer conscientiously carry on. How the system would have worked, and whether its success would have been greater as a mixed system, had the great body of Protestant clergy and laity in Ireland generally supported it, it would now be vain to enquire. That the results would have been different from those which have taken place can scarcely be doubted ; but lohat those results would have been is another question. Whether a mixed system of education (really and not nomhially mixed, as has been the case in some instances) can ever work eftectively in a country where differing religious systems are held with sucli intensity as in Ireland, is in itself a question not easily or quickly answered ; and wliat the effect would be on the religious life of either side, could it really and fairly be carried out, it might even be harder to decide. But these pages are not the place for such discussions, and probably they may be more fairly and clearly viewed many years hence. 80 LIFE OF AUCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1832 To all the array of prejudice against him, the Archbishop brought a resolute mind, an uncompromising love of truth and determination to carry out thoroughly all he felt to be right, and manners which had more of the ease and freedom, and perhaps abruptness, of the Oriel Common- room than the cautious, stately, and measured courtesy generally expected in high dignitaries of the Church. The true elements of courtesy, in its highest sense — a delicate regard for the feelings of others, and a disinterested be- nevolence which has seldom been equalled — he did, indeed, possess. But the remains of the old shyness, added to the somewhat didactic tone naturally acquired by a college tutor and lecturer, left a certain peculiarity of manner, which was often mistaken by those who knew him little. To those with whom he was now brought into contact it was wholly unintelligible, and they misjudged him accordingly. Many truly good men never through life fully understood the real character of him with whom they had to do. He was unlike any they had been used to meet ; and his profound reserve on the subjects on which he really thought most deeply (while open, even to transparency, on others) led them to form the hasty con- clusion, that the sentiments which were not expressed as they had been accustomed to express them, did not exist. But if it were thus possible even for conscientious and pious men so utterly to misunderstand their diocesan, it may easily be believed that in their train followed many of a lower stamp — many to whom a single-minded and conscientious man was alike unintelligible and hateful — many who abused him, without knowing why, merely to please those whom they thought it their interest to con- ciliate ; and the popular journals of the day poured forth articles, in the most vehement and often scurrilous lan- guage, opposing all the measures, principles, and practices of their new diocesan in unmeasured terms of bitterness. He met all this opposition calmly and firmly. He never swerved a hair's breadth from the course he had laid down. But opposition was painful to his disposition. His earlier life, as we have remarked, had been spent among attached ^T. 45] ANTAGONISM OF THE IRISH CLERGY. 81 friends, and admiring and respectful pupils ; the contrast could not but be bitterly felt, even by a nature endowed with less deep and acute feelings than his. He passed through the fiery ordeal with all the natural courage of his character. *But he did not restrain himself, either in his speeches in Parliament or in his correspondence, from complaints which showed how severely this trial wrought on his sensitive nature. He might, no doubt, have been more reticent on this subject, and have shared with other public men the amount of obloquy and misrepresentation which forms the ordinary allowance of English public life. But he was by nature, undoubtedly, a little prone to indulge in feelings of mortification of this class ; and it must also be remembered that his case was peculiar. Most public men are connected with others by the strong ties of" party. On men so linked together, the storm of contumelious assault bursts comparatively harmless. ' Defendit nume- rus, junctseque umbone phalanges.' To attack one is to attack all. Every one is certain, in his hour of need, not merely of generous but of interested and almost instinc- tive support from his political clansmen. But Whately stood alone. By his firm and deliberate choice he had severed himself from all party connexions ; he lost, there- fore, all the advantage of party sympathy and support. Of course he was not abandoned, either in debate or in action ; he had a few attached friends, and he was also defended on necessary occasions by his immediate chiefs, of whom Lord Grrey, according to his nature, was among the most generous. Still, generally speaking, he was left alone in the unpopularity which circumstances forced on him : and this must be borne in mind, if his complaints on the subject appear at times to indicate that he was not ' tetragono ai colpi di ventura.'* In this year (1832) Archbishop Whately founded the Professorship of Political Economy which bears his name in the University of Dublin. This was an enterprise at- tended with considerable difficulty, owing to the general ignorance of the subject in the University. It was hard G 82 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TTHATELT. [1832 to prevent those to whom the science was new from imagining that it had something to do with party politics, which, in his own words, ' had about as much to do with political economy as they had with manufactures or agri- culture.' The establishment, however, of this Professorship, and the distinguished talents of the eminent men who have succeeded each other in the chair — of whom the first three were Isaac Butt, Esq., M.P. : James A. Lawson. Esq., Solicitor-General ; and the Eight Hon. Judge Longfield — could not but produce a considerable eftect in leading to a clearer comprehension of the aims and objects of the science. But while ever ready to turn his attention to questions like these, the Archbishop continued to laboiu* in his diocese as he had labom^ed in his parish and college — reforming abuses of long standing, and carrying a spirit of diligent and unwearying activity into every department. Tlie rite of Confirmation, which had not been administered for many years in the diocese, was revived ; he adopted the plan of holding Confirmations alternately in diflferent churches and districts regularly every other year, some- times oftener, requiring a very careful preparation for it^ He made the ceremony a deeply impressive and touching one, not only by the solemn dignity and deep feeling with which he performed it, but by the custom, to which he ever adhered, of beginning and ending it by a short but impressive address to the young people, and following it up by the administration of the Lord's Supper. This he considered especially important, as affording the can- didates an opportunity of partaking of a privilege which might otherwise be long delayed or altogether neglected; and he strongly upheld the principle that confirmation should ever be regarded as a preparation for the Lord's Table, and that those who are imfit for the one are imfit for the other. The ordinations were likewise conduct-ed in a very different manner from what had been practised before. Instead of leaving the task of examination to his chaplain, he took this oflSce into his own hands ; but to JEt. 45] HIS WEEKLY LEVERS. 83 avoid the painful alternative of himself dismissing a can- didate, or accepting* one who might be unfit, he caused them all to pass through preliminary examinations con- ducted by his chaplains, sometimes frequently repeated ; the chaplains being charged to allow no one to come up to the Archbishop for the final examination unless he was certain to pass. His weekly levees were another distinguishing feature in his diocesan work. All who wished to see him on business attended these levees, and they were often made an occasion for much instructive and interesting conversa- tion, when, with a circle of clergy around him, he would propose questions or discuss various subjects witli charac- teristic liveliness and fertility of mind.* The following incident occurred on one of the Arch- bishop's confirmation tours. While on a visit at the house of one of his clergy, a large party was assembled to meet him. After dinner the conversation turned on the Apos- tolic decree, about ' abstinence from blood,' &c., which some present were disposed to regard as binding on us. The Archbishop, according to a frequent custom of his, stated various questions and raised objections to each suggestion, in order to draw out his companions. One of the guests, a, layman, seeing that all appeared a good deal puzzled, imagined that the Archbishop himself was at a loss, and that he avoided giving a decision from not know- ing precisely what to think. He accordingly called on the Archbishop for explanation, in a manner which seemed to imply some doubt whether he would be able to give it. The latter calmly replied that he had only wished to ascer- tain the views of the clergy present, but that, if they wished it, he had no objection to give his own. He then proceeded to sketch out the system of St. Paul ; that he would not allow any persons to change one way or the other, on becoming Christians, except by observing that pure morality which really does constitute part of the ' A luncheon was regularly provided at these levees, plain, but sub- stantial and plentiful ; and the attendance of servants was excluded, to enable all who wished, to partake of refreshment without scruple or shyness. G 2 84 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1832 Christian character ; in all externals, ' let every man con- tinue in his vocation wherewith he is called.' So that he concluded the abstinence from blood and things strangled to be merely the continuance of it among the ' devout ' Gentiles, who had already practised it, and to be im- posed on none. This view, which the Archbishop has brought forward in several of his works, he sketched out in a continuous discourse of ten or fifteen minutes, and so clearly and intelligibly that there was an involuntary mur- mur of approbation through the company. The gentle- man who had called for the explanation said nothing more. An anecdote of one of his early levees is thus recorded by one of his clergy : — ' Upon one occasion,' writes this gentleman, ' a prelate, since deceased, was present, whose views were not favour- able to the doctrine of Election. " My Lord," said he, addressing the Archbishop, " it appears to me that the young clergy of the present day are more anxious to teach the people high doctrine than to enforce those practical duties which are so much required." "I have no objec- tion," said his Grrace, " to high doctrine, if high practice be also insisted upon — otherwise it must of course be in- jurious." Then, addressing the young clergy who were present, he said, " My younger brethren, if at any time you find your preaching productive of good, and that your congregations value your exertions, beware of being puffed up and losing your balance ! Self-respect is valuable and useful, but as there will be a sufficient growth each day, cut it close every morning. And when through the good- ness of Grod you are successful in your ministry, enter into your closet, fall down on your knees before the throne, and to the Lamb ascribe all the praise, the honour, and the glory.'" The monthly dinners were another important feature in the Archbishop's work in his diocese. They were held regularly for the members of the Dublin ' Association for Discountenancing Vice.' The members, both clergy and laity (clergy, however, naturally predominating), were invited by turns to these dinners ; tliere was no constraint JEt. 45] HIS CONTROVERSIAL POWERS. 86 or formality, all conversed freely, and those who were present often recall with undying interest the brilliant and instructive conversation they enjoyed there. These meetings were peculiarly congenial to the Arch- bishop's disposition, and furnished him with the kind of society he most enjoyed. The following reminiscences from Bishop Hinds will furnish additional particulars of his early work in Dublin. Dr. Hinds writes : — ' I accompanied him on his first Con- firmation tour. One of the stations was Athy, where he was hospitably entertained by Mr. Trench, and a great number of the neighbouring clergy invited to meet him. Whilst waiting for dinner a conversation was going on, with him and around him, on a public controversy that had been held between some Roman Catholics and some members of our communion, and on the manner in which the several questions at issue had been handled by the two parties. " Grentlemen," said the Archbishop, " suppose I take the Roman Catholic side for a few minutes, and you argue against me ; I should like to hear how you would proceed." Into the debate they all plunged, the Arch- bishop standing like one of Ariosto's knights, opposed to a throng who thrust right and left without being able to make a rent in his armour. Dinner put an end to the conflict, but so sensible were the clergy of having been left in an awkward position, that, when we returned to the drawing-room, a deputation presented themselves, to ex- press a hope that, as he had so powerfully advocated the Roman Catholic cause, he would give them the benefit of pointing out what there was weak in his arguments, and how they ought to be met. This he did, with his ac- customed kindness and clearness. ' He was careful on all occasions to disavow his connec- tion with any political party ; but this principle of entire independence was hardly understood, and in more instances than one, probably, he disappointed the expectations of those who supposed that they had some party claims on him. At the Lord-Lieutenant's, one day, the conversation turned on the censure the Government was incurring for 86 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1832 what was represented as truckling to O'Connell. The Archbishop took no part in the discussion. At length Lord Plunket said to him — thinking, no doubt, to elicit from him a word or two of approval — "Archbishop, you do not tell us what you think ; may not one make use of the services of another without being identified with him, or being responsible for all his opinions and conduct ? " Tlce Archbishop : "I would make use of Satan himself if I could make any good use of him, hut^'' added he with emphasis, and an emphatic look, " / %voidd not 'pay him his p7^ice" ' In connection with what he did in Parliament and by his writings for improving the Poor Laws, may be men- tioned his uniform protest against the practice of giving alms in the street. During his residence in Oxford he was an active member of a society established there for the Suppression of Mendicity, &c., and took his turn regu- larly at the office in Carfax, when the indigent travellers were brought up from the lodging-houses to receive their morning meal and a small sum of money, and to be put on their route out of the town. On these occasions he took infinite pains to ascertain, as far as possible, who were mere vagrants, and who not. Some amusing inci- dents occurred. It had been found expedient to require that they should present themselves with clean faces, and the men shaved. A long beard being a useful appendage for disguise, and for making up a professional beggar, against the latter part of this regulation many strenuous appeals were made. Whately was most obdurate ; break- fast or beard was the hard alternative, not a few choos- ing to hold to the latter. Another requirement was that they should show the contents of their pockets. One, on being called to do so, drew out a MS., and politely pre- sented it for inspection. It turned out to be a poem, the man's own composition — subject. The Treadmill. ' In Dublin, he had to deal with a new phase of mendi- cancy. The mendicant in Ireland, covered as he is with shreds of clothing for which there is no vocabulary — a spectacle of poverty in its lowest and saddest form — is, JEi, 45] HIS DISCOURAGEMENT OP MENDICANCY. 87 nevertheless, not the mere beggar as in England, but has at command a fund of wit and pleasantry to serve his turn, where his moving tale and miserable appearance fail him. Here again the Archbishop, whilst he took a warm interest in the Dublin Mendicity Association, set his face as firmly as ever against street alms. Soon after his arrival we were walking on the Donnybrook Koad, when a sturdy fellow followed him persistently, and would take no denial. He whined and beclamoured, was pathetic, was humorous, but all to no purpose. At length, as if he had given up the attempt to get anything, he dropped a little behind, and said in an undertone, taking care, however, that it should be audible, " What a handsome pair of legs he has ! " On went the Archbishop ; the man gave him up as im- practicable. ' He used to boast that he had never in his life given to a beggar in the street or highway — a boast that was the more allowable, as it is well known that his purse was ever open for relieving distress, and that " to do good and to distribute" was one prominent trait in his cha- racter.' Extract from a letter to the Provost of Oriel, 'March 18, 1832. * I do think it too bad that so many, both in England and Ireland, dignitaries of the Church and others, should either join the cry against me, or else (for fear of dissen- sion and of provoking violent men) sit still and let me be run down, while they know and feel the attacks to be utterly unjust. And I am sure the system of always joining with or yielding to the weak and headstrong for fear of their breeding a tumult, does not answer in the long run ; it is a sort of Danegelt system. ' In the meantime the labours of this much-decried Board are most overpowering ; we have thirty or forty ap- plications settled every week, and still cannot keep up with the fresh ones. It would be far less trouble to me to re- 88 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. side in England, like Bishop , say at Bath (where I have friends), and there in my easy chair sign protests against the Government measures, than labour thus to carry them into effect. But his must be wonderful horses to go on without a driver; for I understand his Arch- deacon is non-resident also; but then, to be sure, he earnestly exhorts his clergy to reside, something like Mr.. , when a young man in the militia, who had, it is said, a servant who was apt to get tipsy : he told him he must absolutely avoid that fault, " because," said he, " as / get drunk every night, it will never do for you to be drunk ^oo." ' To the Provost of OrieL ' April 18, 1832. ' My dear Hawkins, — Allow me now to recommend to your particular attention the candidates, whosoever they shall be, who may succeed. Court them as if your election was to come, and was to be decided by them. ' I have considerably more than eighteen clergy in my Diocese, and they do not change round as fast as your fellows; yet I labour assiduously and not without some success, though it cannot but be very* imperfect, to re- concile them, especially the new comers, to myself and to one another. Would that peace-making were as easy as breeding evils ! and yet you know that 1 should have been expected to prove but a very bad courtier. Whether the Church and my life will both last long enough to effect any considerable change is very doubtful ; but I ought to live as if I were to die to-morrow, and as if I were to live fifty years. ' I am better to-day, as you may perceive by my sauciness, but have been very poorly. I had a severe headache when I spoke in the House, and I did not therefore do my best ; but an unusual excitement will always, like a usurer, com- mute present distress for future exhaustion.' The next letters we shall give are highly characteristic. They are addressed to a former parishioner, with whom he ^T. 45] LETTERS TO MISS CRABTREE. 89 maintained through life a correspondence which was valued and enjoyed by both parties. He was at this time anxious to induce this friend to employ her talents in writing for the young ; and this forms the chief part of the two letters before us, which we have placed together for this reason : — 'Dublin : June 29^ 1832. ' My dear Miss Crabtree, — I send you two sketches, which I have not time to fill up, and one or both of which may set you agoing. There is difference enough between them to give scope to different turns of mind. Write just as your own taste prompts, departing as far from the sketch as you please, for you will never write well if shackled. I am inclined to think you may make a good writer for children and the lower orders — the most important and not the easiest department. You may learn " enough of medicine to cure a little child," but remember "you nftist spoil before you spin." You must have the patience to write and not please yourself, and try again and again without being disheartened, or you must not calculate on ultimate success; at least I know what pains it cost me. But never think of writing well while you are about it ; write rapidly after having thought maturely, and then lay it by for a day or two, and try to improve it. You have no idea of the patient modesty with which I have always laboured to profit by the criticisms of friends and enemies, without being discouraged. Perhaps you despise allegory. So do I. It is not for philosophers, but there is nothing like it for the vulgar and children. Thank you for a most interesting letter. ' Send me your first attempt soon.' ' Dublin : Sept. 20, 1832. ' My dear Miss Crabtree, — You may have thought I had forgotten you, but"! have seldom a day or an hour to spare. It will do you much more service to correct and recast your own composition than to have it done for you ; and as you have learnt to draw, you will, I trust, feel no 90 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1832 mortification or disappointment or impatience at rubbing out and retouching, again and again, every stroke till it is quite right. No one will ever learn to draw or to com- pose well who will not submit to this drudgery. But in composition there are many who are ashamed to own the pains they have in fact taken, because they wish to be thought to owe everything to native genius. There may be such geniuses, but I at least am not one. The usual source of failure in everything of an allegorical nature, is not keeping up the allegory, but letting ' Snug the Joiner ' peep through the lion's skin and tell the company he is not really a lion. You may find numberless instances in that most popular allegory, the " PilgTim's Progress," in which the travellers talk about sin and a Christian life while they are marching along the road and bear burdens on their backs ; the author forgetting that the sin had already been represented by the burden, and the Christian by the road. The difficulty of steadily holding on the mask, is what no one hardly could believe who has not tried. And, after all, what a " mean " employment of the intellectual powers, to write for the instruction and amusement of the \ailgar and children — that is, for three- fourths of mankind, and for half the remainder ! I continue as well as I can expect to be, considering the harassing business I have to go through. I expect to be in London the ensuing winter, to " fight with wild beasts " in Par- liament. All the storms I have hitherto encountered are nothing to what I expect will then rage against me ; but I believe the crisis of the Church to be at hand, and that my Master calls me to tread the raging waves.' To K. Senior, Esq. — On Secondai^ Punishments. ' Dublin : July 2. ' I wish you would get me the reports of the Tithe Committee. I have none of them. ' I should like Chad wick to turn on his mind this addition to his suggestions : At Alban Hall, where I was ^T. 45] LETTER ON SECONDARY PUNISHMENTS. 91 at a loss for secondary punishments, I used to enter a delinquent's name in a black book, where he stood as a kind of debtor^ to be punished only if he appeared a second or third time, and then for all together. Might not a tattooed mark on the side of the foot, or somewhere out of sight, be the punishment in some cases ? The men on a second conviction would suffer for both offences. ' Pray suggest, in your report on paupers, that any female receiving relief should have her hair cut off; it may seem trifling, but hce nugcB, &c. 1st. A good head of hair will fetch from 5s. to 10s., which would be perhaps a fortnight's maintenance. 2nd. Indirectly, the number who would exert themselves to save their hair is beyond belief. One of our maids is ill of a fever, and we have almost been driven to force to make her part with her hair, though her life is in danger. I am certain she would have cheerfully worked and fared hard for any length of time to save it.' * The opinions and the exertions of Archbishop Whately, in the matter of Secondary Punishments, form a distinct and important chapter in his life, and shall therefore receive a compendious notice at the outset. The subject has for the present lost its popular interest ; but it is one which in the ordinary course of events the exigencies of society are pretty sure, at some future time, to bring to the surface again. When the Archbishop's attention was drawn to the topic, transportation to New South Wales for various terms, from ' life ' down to ' seven years,' was the ordinary secondary punishment for all serious offences below capital. On their arrival in the colony, the criminals were either employed on public works, or (and in the majority of cases) 'assigned as la- bourers to free settlers, and engaged chiefly in pastoral occupation. Much complaint reached the mother-country, which chiefly bore on the inequality of this kind of punish- ment. It was alleged that it pressed with very different severity on different classes : while many led very easy lives, and became prosperous and rich, others were subject 92 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1832 to severe and oppressive discipline ; others, again, wasted life in mere discontented idleness. Many schemes were suggested for the improvement of the system. Whately's clear and dissecting logic stopped short of nothing but its total abolition. He thought it, of all punishments, the least deterrent to the offender here — the least reforming to the person undergoing it. He thought it also calculated to produce enormous evil, by peopling with a criminal race a new and attractive region of the world. He consi- dered that under this system, Grovernment at home, and its agents abroad, had to accomplish what he denominated two inconsistent objects — the prosperity of the colony, and the suitable punishment of the convicts. His opinions can be studied in his publications on the subject, and in his evidence before the Transportation Committee of 1838, which was appointed mainly in consequence of the public feeling produced by his appeals. They are everywhere urged vigorously, and with that single-hearted honesty which was the mainspring of his power. But — as his nature was — he looked but little at other sides of the question ; his works may be consulted for plenty of evi- dence and argument against transportation, but will afford little assistance to those who are endeavouring to devise substitutes for it, or to solve the great general problem of secondary punishments. At the same time it may be observed that Whately (in the 'London Eeview,' 1829) was the first to suggest that notion of sentencing convicts ' to a certain amount of labour, instead of time,' which was afterwards taken up by the prison reformer Maconochie, and which is considered by some to form the basis of the much- admired system of discipline of Irish prisons under Sir Walter Crofton. *The immediate result of the efforts of himself and those whose energies he directed was, however, only a re- form in the system. Assignment was partially abolished — other devices in the way of employment and punishment substituted. The ill-success of these, and the flow of free emigration into Australia, produced a general dissatisfaction in the colonies with transportation under any shape. From ^T. 45] LETTER ON SECONDARY PUNISHMENTS. S3 1851 to 1854 the question was much and acrimoniously debated between them and the mother-country. The gold discoveries then contributed to render its continuance im- possible. It lasted a few years in Western Australia only, and is now abolished.* To Sir T. Denman (then Attorney General). — On Secondary Punishments, 'Dublin, Oct. 9, 1832. ' Sir, — I beg you to be assured that I am much flattered at finding that my late publication * has attracted so much of the notice of so many eminent persons, including your- self. It is also gratifying to find that in so many impor- tant points we are fully or very nearly agreed, even in some <*vhere you seem to suppose otherwise: e.g.., it was never my design to advocate an equality of punishment for all offenders, or a difference depending solely on the difficulty of prevention ; I always meant the imijortance of prevent- ing each offence to be taken into account. If we were to prevent robbing of orchards by roasting alive every one convicted of it, we should purchase the preservation of fruit too dearly. In the two cases you suppose, of a starving man stealing a loaf, and a profligate reducing a worthy man to beggary, there is as much difference in the public evil of the two offences as in the moral turpitude of the offenders. ' When I spoke, however, of the theory of punishment as being for prevention and not for retribution, I was not unaware that a certain degree of conformity to existing prejudices (which operate like the friction, resistance of the air, &c., in mechanics) must be admitted, in order to obtain the necessary sanction of public opinion. We must, like Solon, give men not the best laws, but the best they can be brought to receive. Still we should, as far as the case will admit, strive gradually to wean men from hurtful prejudices ; and I know of few more hurtful, in a ' ' On Secondary Punishment.' 1832. 94 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELT. [1832 moral point of view, than that which tends towards the apportionment of punishment to the moral guilt of the offender, for it leads of course to the converse error of estimating the moral guilt by the punishment ; and thus a most false and miscliievous standard of morality is set up, inasmuch as there are so many important duties which human law cannot enforce, so many odious offences which it cannot at all, or more than very inadequately, punish — such as ingratitude, meanness, selfishness, seduction of youth into vice, &c. ' I am convinced that to the error in question may be traced almost the whole of religious persecution. No one who believes in his religion can well avoid regarding it as a moral offence to reject, or at least to impugn or to cor- rupt it. But as men advance in intelligence they become by degrees more and more capable of approaching to a right view of this subject. Even the progress of language shows this. The ancients did not speak of inflicting punishment and suffering punishment, but of taking vengeance, paying a penalty, &c. ; it was dare poenas — luere — solvere — and ulcisci, as a deponent (i.e. middle verb) to take, for oneself, satisfaction; and the deponent puniri was softened down afterwards into the transitive punire ; so hovvai Biktjv — TL/xcopiav Trapaa'^sLv. A mere savage thinks only of the past. As men advance towards civilisation, they think more and more of the future, i.e. of preventing future transgressions. ' Your remarks on Transportation are as ingenious as I should have expected them to be ; and though it would have been of course more gratifying to me to have found you altogether of my opinion, it is some satisfaction to feel that the objections to my views which I have before me are likely to be — considered both as to themselves, and in respect to their author — the strongest, and probably the whole, of what can be urged on that side. For, though I do not deny that many of them have weight (and, indeed, there can hardly be a system so bad that nothing can be said for it, or so good that nothing can be said against it), yet all of them together seem to me much more than ^T. 45] LETTER ON SECONDARY PUNISHMENTS. 95 overbalanced by those of either of the articles printed in the Appendix. Some of these you seem to me to have overlooked : e.g. what you say as to the dislike of trans- portation felt by many offenders is a topic discussed in p. 69, and in other parts of the same article ; the topic of " getting rid " of criminals, in p. 84, and again in p. 140 ; that of the overcharged expectations of comfort and pros- perity in New South Wales, in pp. 76, 136, &c. ; and the total incompatibility of the several objects, to combine which is the problem proposed to a Governor of New South Wales, is touched on, though not so strongly as it might and should have been, in pp. 88-94. To govern in the best manner with a view to the convicts, so as to make the penalty of transportation answer the end proposed (which is the most important point), and to govern in the best manner with a view to the prosperity of the colony (which is the point a Governor is naturally the most likely to aim at), are two objects each, separately, difficult of attainment, but altogether inconsistent and opposed to each other. ' There are some of your remarks in which I fully co- ,ncide, but which tend, I must confess, to strengthen my previous impressions. E.g., I have no doubt that many (though I believe a smaller proportion than some suppose) are driven to commit crimes by distress ; and that when this distress can be traced, as it often may, to injudicious legislation — to poor-laws, corn-laws, or the like — the nation is bound, not only to provide for the amendment of the bad laws, but for the relief of the distress resulting from them. But I would not have a man left to commit a crime to entitle him to this relief. It would be not only kinder and more just, but, I am convinced, cheaper also, to provide for the emigration of five or six poor men before they had been driven by distress to crime, than to transport one of them as a criminal. In the latter case you must take into account, besides his transport and outfit, all the loss and inconvenience to society from his depredation before detection, and from the depredations of the rest who finally escape detection, the trouble and 96 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1832 expense of his capture and trial, and, lastly, the circum- stance that he is probably altogether spoiled for an in- dustrious settler. ' I agree with you again in believing that some persons of tolerably decent character, but not proof against temp- tation where no risk is incurred, may be deterred by the dread of mixing with a herd of abandoned reprobates during the middle-passage. Doubtless those of them who do suffer this undej'go great misery, so great that I should say it would be an allowable mercy to hang them instead — nay, to let them die on the rack. No physical death can be so bad as the moral death which is likely to ensue. In proportion as the corruption of their moral character increases, their suffering from the contamination dimi- nishes. The punishment is one which causes more mischief than it does pain, and which is the more severe to each in proportion as he is less of such a character as to be de- serving of it — Le. incapable of restraint but from fear. Now these two are among the things most to be avoided in punishment. Still sundry persons may be in this way deterred, and this is a good as far as it goes, but the remedy seems to me far worse than the disease ; for the proposed advantage rests on the supposition that the great majority of the convicts are profligates, to whom bad company is little or no penance, and who fester in their own corruption for four months, till by mutual contami- nation they shall have got rid of any remnants any of them may have of morality or decency. ' When Shakespeare makes some one remark to Parolles, " If you could find a country where but women were who have undergone so much shame, you might begin an im- pudent nation,^^ he little thought, probably, that the experiment of beginning such a nation would be seriously tried, and from not having quite enough of shameless women we should be sending out cargoes of girls to supply the deficiency. I shall beg your acceptance of a sermon in which I ha\ e treated of the moral mischief resulting from setting up the law of the land as a standard.' ^T. 46] LETTERS OX CHURCH REFORM. 97 The two next letters relate to the subject of Church Eeform. Lord Henley had brought forward a plan for the alteration of several matters of detail, on which the Archbishop comments to the Provost of Oriel : 'Nov. 1832. ' . . . There are, I dare say, many objections in matters of detail to Lord Henley's scheme besides what you have pointed out; but my great objection is to the premature consideration of any details at all before the grand prin- ciples of procedure are clearly laid down. If a general, instead of forming plans for the conduct of a campaign, occupies himself in drilling a handful of recruits, or if the proprietor of an estate in Holland carefully looks after the mending of some gap in a fence, and does not look to the sea-bank which is to secure the whole territory from being swallowed up the first high tide — the error would not be greater than that of being occupied in carving up prebends and minor canonries, without settling the points on which the whole existence and efficiency of the Church Establishment depends. All matters, small as well as great, should be properly settled indeed, but to begin with details, which may be settled at leisure, and that by subordinate hands, while great principles are neglected and great measures unthought of, is to be pruning the twigs of a tree without securing its roots from being torn up by the first blast. ' The first thing, as I have been trying, I trust with some success, to impress on Lord Henley, is, to distin- guish as much as possible the temporal affairs of the Establishment from those purely ecclesiastical ; and the next, to settle what shall be the government of the Church, which (in the latter department) has none. If it be decided tliat both shall be in the same hands, so be it ; but it has never been so hitherto. The only attempt towards a government of the Church in ecclesiastical matters has been in a usuoyecl dominion, very imperfectly exercised by the King in Council. I will shortly send you a tract, first published above a century ago, which H 98 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1832 proves that such occasional forms, in that relating to cholera for instance, are certainly not imperative^ and probably not allowable. ' Instead of proceeding at once to settle how this and that point of detail shall be regulated, let us begin by settling li'ho shall have the regulation of them. My plan (which I have laid before Lord Grey) is, not to declare in favour of any specific reform (in ecclesiastical matters), nor even to assume that any reform is needed ; but merely to demand in the first instance that the Church should have a government. 'And I have been persuading Lord Henley to rest on his oars, and wait for some of us to bring forward this proposal.' To the Same, 'Nov. 30, 1832. ' . . . You are severe on the presumption of Church Reformers : perhaps not unreasonably so, if you did but bestow a due shai-e of your wrath on those who rail at the presumption which in fact they have in a great degree produced. ' " You tell me," one of them might say, " that I am ignorant of these matters, and that you know all about them : then, w^hy did not you come forward in the first instance to propose what your knowledge dictated as the proper reform ? Why did the regular practitioners never come forward to prescribe till the patient's suflferings roused the empirics?" ' In quiet times the maxim holds good that what is everyone's business is no one's business ; but when the quieta ne moveote system has gone on to the utmost limits, then come the times when the converse holds good, that what is no one's business is every one's business. . . . ' I cannot feel much consolation at the churches lately built, when I recollect that, though advancing absolutely we are relatively falling back ; being further behind the wants of the population than twenty years ago, and then ^T. 46] LETTERS ON CHURCH REFORM. 99 more so than twenty years before tliat. It is the honr- hand pursuing the minute-hand. Still it might he a sort of melancholy consolation to think that we are doing all that can be done to diminish an evil which must never- theless increase, if we had first fairly come to the con- clusion that there is absolutely no other resource. But unless we are sure of this, our perseverance in a course which must ultimately fail, while we yet do make some progress, may draw off our attention from some more effectual expedient. If in a flood the people persevere in climbing a hill and are encouraged at finding that they continue advancing, though the waters are advancing faster and must ultimately reach them, their progress in this ultimately hopeless effort may draw off their attention from the constructing of an ark or some other expedient. I myself am privately (for I have no authority) sanctioning the performance of service in school-houses and barns, even here. If in England such a practice is not very widely introduced the Church will soon be left in a minority. And how to remedy the want of clergy I know not. The fact set forth in my ' evidence,' the immense diminution of Church endowments compared with the increasing wealth and population of the whole country (in consequence of tlieir being in tithes instead of land), which is the main cause of the evil, not one in ten thousand has ever thought of, and not one in a hundred will believe, when the proof is set before him. ' Ever yours affectionately, 'E. Whately.' ' I am certainly living rather too fast,' he observes in a letter written to Provost Hawkins at this time ; ' and I miss the annual recruit of the long vacations ; but I can thankfully say I am much better than two years ago. I am content to burn, so I shine ; only just now my candle is burning at both ends,' a 2 100 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELT. [1833 CHAPTER I\\ 1 833-1 S35. Bev. J. Blanco White resides ^th the Archbishop, and is appointed tutor to the Archbishop's family - Letter to the Provost of Oriel from 3Ir. B. White — Letter to Mr. Badelej on the Clerical Society — Letter to the Howard Society on the penalty of Death — Takes his seat in Parliament — Speeches on Irish Education and Irish Emancipation — Letter to the Provost of Oriel on political and ecclesiastical qnestions — ^Eetirement of Dr. Hind& and appointment of Dr^ Dickinson as his successor — Associated nith Archbishop Murray in Commission of Enquiry on Irish Poor — I^blishment of a Divinity College — Letters to and from Dr. Xewman respecting their differences of opinion on Church matters — Mr. Blanco White, embracing Sociman views, retires from the Archbishop's family — Grief on this account manifested by the Archbishop, who subsequently pensions Mr. White — ^Letters to Bev. J. Blanco White on his Unitarian views, and consequeut secession from the Church. The year 1833 opened on the same course of indefatigable labour as the former one had done. The Archbishop's home circle had been increased within the last year by the arrival of the Rev. J. Blanco White, who came from Oxford to superintend the education of the sons of his friends, the Archbishop and ^Ir. Senior, tmder the roof of the former. 'Mi. Blanco ^Miite was a Spaniard by birth, an exile from his comitry on account of his abandonment of Eomish principles. He first visited Oxford about 1817. An honorary degree was awarded him, for the services which he was considered to have rendered in the contro- versy with Rome ; and he came to reside at Oriel in 1826, when his close intimacy with the Archbishop began. Each of the two was a hearty admirer of the other. Blanco WTiite had been chiefly occupied with Uterary pursuits while io England, his health not admitting of his offici- ating in the Church. It may be well here to ol»erve, that the little work called ' Second Travels of an Irish Gentle- .-Et. 46] ME. BL-\NCO WHITE. 101 man,' written as a kind of answer to Moore's book with a similar title, was the production of his pen about this time, and was written with the sanction and under the superintendence of the Ai'chbishop. This work, unpre- tending as it is, contains yaluable matter for those in- terested in Protestant controversy, and deserves to be better known. The letter in which Mr. B. White describes his journey and arrival in Ireland is so amusingly characteristic of the time when railroads were reofarded as an astoundino: novelty, that we have ventured to insert it here. To the Provost of Oriel. ' Redesdale, near Dubltx : •June 4. 1832. ' My dear Provost, — I arrived here on Sunday last, at seven in the morning. I had been on deck since five o'clock to enjoy the view of the coast as it rose from the waves under the rays of the unclouded rising sun. It was a lovely view. But I ought to tell you where I sailed from. We had ordered horses (for we came to the reso- lution of posting) at Cheltenham for Bristol, when Willis, whom we met there, represented to us the tediousness of a passage from Bristol, and the great length of a whole day to be passed in that town without anything to do. Pope seemed inclined to avoid the long sea voyage, and I had gained courage in respect of postchaises and inns. In a few minutes our route was changed. On Thursday we slept at Shrewsbiury, and on Friday evening we arrived at Liverpool, by the road nearest to Wales ; that is, through Wrexham and Eaton Hall, Lord Grosvenor's magnificent place. ' Thursday was a lovely day, and the scenery was equally lovely. As the mail steam packet was to sail at five in the afternoon we had the whole morning of Satur- day to ourselves. I saw part of Liverpool, and took a drive of thirty-six miles on the railroad, in two hours. Of all the enjoyments I can recollect, none equals that 102 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1833 truly magical excursion. The effects of the intoxicating gas are nothing to the feeling of exultation I had when we were moving at the rate of twenty miles. I could hardly contain myself from expressing my joy to all the passengers about me. No man capable of the pleasure of sublime poetry should be in England a single year without going to Liverpool or Manchester to drive on the railroad. It is true that I was exhausted when we arrived at Redesdale. But the kindness of my host and hostess make me forget everything else. The house is in an ex- tensive piece of ground approaching to the size of a small park. It is large and commodious ; I have a study and a large bedroom, from which I see the bay and the mountains which surround it to the north-west. ' I have not yet seen Dublin. Repose of body is essential to me ; though I do not seem to require it at present for the mind. ' My plan for the future appears to be settled. I speak thus cautiously because nothing seems to be settled in this country. But as far as the Whatelys and myself are concerned, we have settled that I shall make this my home, and undertake the education of their boy. ' Yours ever gratefully and sincerely, ' J. Blanco White.' The following letter to Mr. Badeley was probably written in this year, and is worth inserting from its valu- able suggestions on the formation of clerical societies : — To the Rev. J. Badeley. ' I have just time to suggest two most essential rules for your Clerical Society, without which it will be all that you fear, and worse — a theatre for the display of polemic oratory and spiritual mob-oppression. ' 1st. No one to stand up to speak. ' 2nd. No decision to be made of any disputed point ; but each to state his opinions, and go home and retain them or change them as he likes best ; but no voting, no resolutions, &c. ' I speak from experience.' JEj. 4G] LETTEK on THE PENALTY OF DEATH. 103 To the Secretary of the FToiuard Society for Removing the Penalty of Death. •Feb. 15, 1833. ' Sir, — I am most desirous to remove not only the penalty of death, but any penalty for which a sufficient substitute can be devised. Nor would I limit this to the case of offences where personal violence is absent. No offence should be visited by a more severe penalty than is necessary for its prevention. Xor does the absence or presence of personal violence seem to me sufficiently to draw the line between offences wliich it is the less or the more difficult and important to prevent. An incendiary, for instance, who should burn down fifty stacks of corn, or a burglar who should enter the houses of fifty industrious families in their absence, and strip them of their all, could not, in any point of view, be compared to advantage with one who should beat or even kill another in a quarrel. ' The only effectual mode, as it seems to me, in which the Howard Society can promote their benevolent objects, is by setting themselves to devise such effectual secondSry punishments as shall do away with the necessity of severe enactments. Any reasonable suggestion of this kind I shall be most ready to advocate ; but luithout this all petitions against this or that mode of punishment will be utterly vain, as they will be met by the ready answer, " What is to be done ? " and " recommendations to mercy," in general terms, will only elicit the remark, that to leave crime unrepressed, is mercy to the tuickecL only, and cruelty to the unoffending. No legislative measure has as yet occurred to me for the " relief of the poor and desti- tute of Dublin and its vicinity " ; but I shall gladly lend my support to any that may be devised which shall tend to increase, or at least not to diminish, the source from which, after all, must flow the greatest part of the comfort, the respectability, and the mitigation of calamity among the poor — viz. habits of steady industry, frugality, a spirit of independence, prudent forethought, and mutual hind- 104 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1833 ness towards each other. Any measure which goes to destroy, repress, or prevent these, creates ten times more distress than it relieves. And such, as I know from ex- perience, has been the effect of every legislative enactment that has hitherto been tried.' In this year (1833) the Archbishop took his seat in Parliament for the first time. His friends in England naturally rejoiced to see his powerful mind brought to bear on English questions. But every year of his attend- ance in Parliament increased his conviction that little good could be done unless the attendance were constant ; and that the periodical alternate sessions, though not suffi- cient for real usefulness in England, were quite enough to hinder his work in his own diocese ; and his steady and determined resolution to keep aloof from all party, could not conduce to popularity or to parliamentary influence. He usually avoided the ordinary work of the House, only speaking when the subject involved questions concerning Ireland or the United Church generally. ^It was on March 19 in this year that he for the first tiAe addressed the House of Lords, the subject being the Irish Education question. One part of his speech is me-* morable, as a manifesto of his own deliberate view of the part which he meant to take, and to which he adhered, with unswerving firmness, throughout his public life. ' It was of little consequence,' he said, ' whether such a person as himself was attached to any party or not ; but if he was worth mentioning at all, he was worth mentioning with truth. He did not mean to impute wilful falsehood to those who made these accusations against him. Per- haps they judged from their own experiences; perhaps they had never known, or seen, or heard of a person who was not attached to some party. All who knew him, knew that it had ever been a rule with him never to attach himself to any party, ecclesiastical or political. He was an independent man, and was entitled to be considered as an independent man.' *One other of his few speeches of this session is worth ^T. 46] LETTERS TO DR. HAWKINS. 105 noting, on account of the light which is thrown on some of his peculiar views. It was on the project of Jewish emancipation (August 1, 1833). It is unnecessary to say that Whately, ever thoroughly consistent in his opposition to political disabilities on account of religious opinion, supported this measure unreservedly. But, in doing so, he gave vent to his favourite opinions on the subject of the emancipation also of the Church itself, and of reli- gion in general, from State control. Not only Jews, he thought, but Dissenters, should be restrained from legis- lating on Church questions. ' Everything relating to the spiritual concerns of the Church should be entrusted to a commission, or to some body of men, members of that Church, having power to regulate those concerns in such a manner as may be most conducive to the interests of religion, and to the spiritual welfare of the people.' Extract from a letter to the Provost of Oriel, dated May 1833. 'Is not Arnold's notion of a Christian nation being ipso facto a Christian Church, the old and popular one ? The conclusions he draws from this are indeed likely to startle the majority, and to offend them the more from their finding how difficult it is to prove (which I have never yet seen done) that they do not follow from that principle.'^ To the Provost of Oriel. ' Coffee House, Lincoln's Inn : July 21, 1833. * My dear Hawkins, — The date, tells you almost all I can tell, as my motions are of course uncertain ' As to politics — pure or mixed — I can say but little ; because one's views will often seem unreasonable, unless accompanied by the reasons ; and in many cases I cannot give them, from knowing too much. I have seen some- thing of the cards of several of the players, and one result of 1 See letter on this subject, Oct. 6, 1838. UFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATKLT. [1S5$ my observation I can tell you, that is i^orth attending to : that if those on the spot (I mean, not loeathf meielj, but in the meta^orical sense) appear to underrate the opinionB of those who have not so duse a view, it must not be can- dud: ' they disparage undnly their understanding'. . :>iw se^ the gold side of the shidd, and r ; he who taJkes a el<»e view, and is let . sees that, both in respect of men and ^ Tsm^ dnff in the wheat, and mudi much gold is crafted otct with ^. ' its inner works Ivrass, and its i: : steeL And accordingly he of equal intelligence der whcxe they do ; and rent ocmdiKicni firom —ledge, would think a? ''t.e d'i>es, " : ^ r ^ame condnsion, 'My dear Hawkins, — You have detected, with y. : aiM»stem^ingenuity,aveilnl inaccuracy, wfaidi, hoveT 7 : . I think yaV .. :i.c • i L. . : : : o: something of that kind.' Ex: y Z of Grid. *"When they peiplcx ciir . ^i . ; ^sed appeal to the Scriptures only, and yet revile anyone who inakes that appeal, the only vr r-. ^ - , - .: their true meaning is, when it is said. ^ required to be believed but what Scripture," to ask, proved" to who ieve it because it has been proved to ; . Scriptures are, indeed, the standard to jun; out ^oi^ are mine. You make a double requisition: first, I am to believe that what you say is true ; and, second, I am also to beUeve that it is contained in Scripture, and I am to taJx your word for both. And this, I believe, is the real meaning of the Protestant Papists.' Eactract of a Letter to Mr. S&nior. *DabB]i: Oct S. 1836u ' My dear S., — great proportion of those who come to Ireland to see things with their own eyes, and then declare the opinions they have formed of ** Ireland, its evils, and their remedies," might just as well have stayed at home, since they come to seek, not conclusions, but premises. * They bring with them ready-^nade theories and plans, and then declare that everything they have seen and JEt. 40] LETTER TO MR. SENIOR. 13o heard in Ireland has confirmed their convictions ; which is true enough, because they come to listen to the " bells," and everything that they meet witli is viewed through the medium of their own prepossessions. " As the fool thinketh, so the bell clinketh." Now some of these plans and theories may be very right, and at any rate they may be right in assuring the public that such is their sincere conviction ; and it may be true also that it has been formed in Ireland, though this might have taken place while they were fly-fishing in the Lake of Killarney. The abuse of the public is in pretending that their opinion is, when it is not, derived from what they have observed here. " Oh, but they have seen the state of things I " They have seen, that is, that there is distress and dirt and drunkenness — ^just what nobody in or out of Ireland doubts. But that on which the doubts exist, viz., whether this or that mode of remedy for those evils would be safe and effectual — have they seen this ? or do they expect to see it before the trial is made ? " In my mind's eye, Horatio." They often, I believe, deceive themselves, as well as others, in the same way as the believers in ghost and fairy stories. A man goes and sees the Eildon Hills, with three tops, and is told it was done by Michael Scott's demon, and returns with a confused notion as to what it is that he is competent to bear witness to. ' I have seen , who is gone on a tour through Ireland, to form the conclusion that workhouses on a similar plan to those of England will be a safe and effec- tual remedy for the distresses of Ireland. ' I do not say that he is not right in this ; I only fore- tell that he will come back with that conclusion because he took it out with him, and is not likely to lose it on the road, but, on the contrary, to be confirmed in it by all l:e sees and hears, because he is, as far as I can judge, " gone to listen to the bells.'*' 136 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1836 To the Bishop of Llandaff. 'Dublin: Oct. 19, 1836. ' My dear Lord, — It gave me great pleasure to hear a continued good account of you. I am myself dreadfully hard-worked, and often in an unsatisfactory way, partly owing to the defect in our system of (so-called) Church government, to which you advert. And I believe every bishop who at all attempts to do his duty finds something of the same inconvenience. Why, then, do they not meet together, and agree to submit some plan to the Legisla- ture ? Because they fear they should not be listened to ? Perhaps not ; but at least they would feel that they had done their part. And I own I am mystified to see the bishops only coming forward when some question of tem- poralities is discussed, and in what relates to their own episcopal functions taking no public step, even when their private opinions are most decided. If you would take the lead in this matter, I do think many would follow : one you may be sure of, as I am in Parliament. ' I am sure you know me too well to attribute to me what is in truth the worst kind of credulity — hasty pre- judice against an honest man, or one who may be honest, founded on the detection of a knave. But you may re- collect that I only pointed out the necessity (and that, by the bye, Mr. 's case does prove, were proof needed) of careful enquiry and examination, even when a man brings such high testimonials as might seem to supersede the necessity of it. Examination wrongs no one. Grenuine coin is not damaged by the test, and counterfeit deserves detection. And my experience would have convinced me, had I doubted it, that some zealous Protestants are so eager for a convert, that they hastily take for granted a man's being a sincere Protestant if he does but echo all they say, and answer leading questions to their wish; when perhaps he is, as I have found in some cases, too ignorant (to waive all suspicions of deliberate falsehood) to be pro- JEt, 49] LETTER TO A CLERGYMAN. 137 perly called either Eoman Catholic or Protestant, from his knowing, I may say, nothing of either the one religion or the other. Mr. , for instance, I found more ignorant of the Bible than you would suppose any child of twelve years could be in a tolerable charity school. He set up, moreover, for a classical and mathematical tutor, and was "believed on his bare word, till I found him unable to con- strue correctly a plain Latin sentence, barely knowing the Grreek letters, and not knowing what a triangle is. To prevent mistakes, I gave him a bit of paper, and told him to draw one, which he did thus Y- Yet he had been engaged as a tutor in a gentleman's family I ' The first letter of the year 1837 is addressed to a clerical friend, who had written to consult him on some matters which were strongly occupying his mind. The subject will be seen in the answer : — To a Clergyman, in reply to a letter written by him. 'February 1837. ' Supposing you strongly impressed with the sentiments you express, I should say, to you and to all who are ex- periencing a similar awakening, that what you have most to guard against is impatience. He who has lost a great deal of time, and is anxious to repair the loss, is apt first to wish for (which is quite right and natural), and then to expect (which is most absurd), a proportionally rapid pro- gress in recovering his lost ground. And the end com- monly is, that he either grows soon "weary in well-doing," or else, in seeking a short cut, strikes into a wrong path, and goes irrecoverably astray. The error is not by any means peculiar to the case of religion and morals. A man in travelling has lagged behind, and then gallops on im- patiently and knocks up his horse, or strikes across fields and loses his way. A man has been idle at college, and seeks to make up, just at the last, by reading fourteen hours a day instead of seven, because, forsooth, he has twice as much to do as a steady student ; but his wants 138 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1837 cannot give him corresponding powers ; his former idle- ness makes application the more, not the less fatiguing, and also the less available in point of progress. And I have often seen such a man either lay himself up by ill- ness, or, by hurried and superficial study, fail of the ad- vancement he might have made. The same thing may be seen in those who are in a hurry to recover strength and flesh after an illness, and in a multitude of other cases. ' A man who is in any respect reforming should be cautioned, not indeed against being too earnest and dili- gent, but against being impatient. You must warn such a man to make up his mind to meet with much greater toil and difficulty in pursuing the path of duty than those who have long pursued it, and yet with all his exertion to find himself for a considerable time falling short of them. The poorer a man is, the more hard will he have to labour for small gains, inferior to what a richer 'makes with less labour. This is very mortifying, but a poor man who will not make up his mind to this will never become rich. ' Even the " conviction of sin " (which is the favourite phrase of certain religionists) is not to be administered with effect, as some spiritual quacks do, as a first dose, to be gulped down all at once like a bolus. You must warn the self-reformer that if he is really in the right way, and keeps to it, he will have much more of genuine conviction of sin a year hence than he has now, because his standard will have risen, his moral and spiritual taste improved, as he advances. As the light grows brighter, he will see more and more of the stains, and will find himself, when considerably advanced, really backwarder even than he had fancied himself at starting. All this (though he ought to take it as a good sign) is humiliating, and will prove, if it come unexpectedly and without previous warning, dis- heartening. But it is the appointment of Providence, and it is of no use to attempt to disguise it, that humility is the only road to improvement; that a double portion of patient and humble labour is necessary for those who have lagged behind; and that humility is an alterative yET. 50] HLNTS ON SELF-REFORMATION". 139 medicine which must be swallowed drop by drop, without seeking to evade its bitterness in any way, if it is to operate rightly. ' Warn men against hoping for and seeking a short cut to Christian perfection because, forsooth, they wish for it and need it. Those are mere quacks who profess to wash away the effects of a life of intemperance by a few draughts of their balms and elixirs ; they give a delusive stimulus to an enfeebled constitution, and hurry their deluded pa- tient to the grave. And those spiritual quacks who teach men to dispense with a " patient continuance in well- doing," and flatter to his ruin the wretched dupe, who turns away impatiently from sound advisers — from such as prescribe, to one peculiarly averse to (because unac- customed to) all exertion after practical holiness, that double exertion which, for this very reason, is needful. Many a stray lamb returning to the fold is intercepted by these wolves in sheep's clothing. ' The usual result is, that while for a time some evils are corrected, others and worse come in their place : for instance, for thoughtless and reckless confidence, is substi- tuted spiritual pride under the guise of humility ; for a mixture of malignant envy with veneration felt towards better Christians, a still more malignant contempt; for utter carelessness about Grod, a familiar and most de- grading and injurious idea of Him ; and ultimately, very often a return, and more than a return, to the " world and the flesh," in addition to the devil ; with the addition of a firm belief that they are still accounted righteous on account of Christ's righteousness being imputed to them and reckoned as theirs. The evil spirit retiuns accom- panied by seven worse, and " they enter in and dwell there, and the last state of that man is worse than the first." ' In this year the Archbishop was again in Parliament, taking an active part in all that could bear upon Irish affairs. The principal object on which he was engaged in this session, was that of bringing before the Grovern- 140 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1837 ment the results of the enquiries made into the working of the new educational system. The Archbishop was ex- amined as a witness before a committee of the House of Lords on this subject. •March 1, 1837. ' My dear Hawkins, — There is much reason in what you urge ; but I fear it is too late. Five years ago, and re- peatedly since, I urged all I could get to listen to me, to try and get rates commuted for any kind of endowments, at any loss : to snatch what they could from a sinking ship. But I believe it is all over now. '/cannot take any part in the question without placing myself in a very invidious position, for no adequate ad- vantage. Church rates (which we call cess) are at an end in Ireland ; and though there is some difference between the case of this country and England, it would be morally impossible to point this out in a debate, so as not to be misunderstood. ' Ever yours affectionately, ' K. W.' 'Friday, March 11, 1837. ' My dear Hawkins, — I cannot bring myself to write a formal congratulation to , because if he proves such as I hope and expect, and I have represented him to be, there will be good reason to congratulate the Church in- deed, but as far as his personal comfort and enjoyment are concerned, he will find himself a loser. ' There is the poor Bishop of crying nolo episcopari from the bottom of his heart, whom I have been rebuking, as the last Mexican Emperor Gruatimozia did his minister who groaned loudly when the inhuman Spaniards had laid them on a bed of coals : " And I, too ; am I upon a bed of roses ?" Everyone I have yet seen seems to approve of 's appointment. The worst thing I have heard said of him is, that he is very young for a bishop ; and most seem satisfied with my reply, " Then we may hope to have him the longer." ^T. 50] OX THE IXYOCATIOX OF SAINTS. 141 ' There will, I think, soon be a vacancy at . I saw the old man the other day, in the last stage of (bodily, not mental) weakness, though free from pain, at ninety- two. He wished me the like : but I thought within my- self, as Xelson said at Trafalgar, " This fire is too hot to last long." But what were the candles made for but to burn ? ' Ever yours affectionately, ' K. Whatelt.' The letters to his friend Mr. Tyler, the Eector of St. Giles, which appear as among the earliest of this year, are on points which he regarded as of deep importance — the Saints' Invocations, and the deprecation of appeal to evidence in the Eomish Church : — ' Dublin, March 17, 1837. ' My dear Tyler, — ... Of course I should never have thought of retaining any allusion to my own confirma- tions. But what a pity it is that the administration of the Eucharist does not always accompany the rite ! It does, to be sure, greatly increase my labour. But when I become too feeble to bear the fatigue, I shall withdraw after the Confirmation, but still leave the clergy to cele- brate the Communion. If you were to ask my clergy, including many who have not yet even shaken off their prejudices against me, you would find nearly all of them agreed that the number of habitual communicants is about doubled, or more, since I came, and that a great portion of this increase is from the rule of not leaving the young people to wait till " a more convenient season." Any additional verbal alterations or omissions you may make at your own discretion. ' I quite agree with you that the greatest practical cor- ruption of the unreformed churches (for the Greek is on a level with the Eomish in that) is the Invocation of Saints. It is a most insidious error, because it creeps in under the guise of humility. A man of any modesty would not push himself at once into the presence of the Queen, 142 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1837 but would rather apply to some of her servants, unless expressly forbidden. ' The ultimate result is that omniscience and om- nipresence are attributed to saints, and what really amounts to worship becomes confined to creatures. If you, or some one for you, would put into the form of a popular tract your book on Mariolatry, and add a simple proof that the safe side (for that is the stronghold of the saint-invokers) is not for but against it, I think it would be very useful as a " tract for the times." '"The horse," says a French proverb, "is not quite escaped who drags his halter." Now the halter of our Church in this matter is the retaining of the title of saints in a different sense from that in which it is invariably used by the Scripture writers. In their sense the humblest Christian is just as truly a saint as Peter or Paul. Thence comes the idea that a less degree of personal holiness will suffice for the salvation of an ordinary Christian than of an inspired man, or one who has performed sensible miracles. Thence we are led to think of admiring at a distance their personal holiness, without dreaming of being so presumptuous as to imitate it. Thence comes, again, a hope of their intercession ; and thence, ultimately, worship.' To the same. ' April 22 (probably), 1837. ' Your reviser is very likely not aware of the extent to which, in Ireland at least, the notion prevails and is inculcated, that it is a most desirable thing to keep as many as possible from enquiring after any kind of evidence, and that those are to be most macarised who ac- quiesce with the most complete satisfaction in whatever they are told. That this should be the case with five- sixths of our population is not perhaps much to be won- dered at ; but I find the same views prevailing to a wonderful extent among Protestants also, including the most zealous anti-Papists. I am most desirous to with- ^T. 50] UNBELIEF IX- OUR SACRED BOOKS. 143 draw any censure I may be supposed to have cast on any who walk, as well as they can, in the best light or twilight they can find ; the censure is for those who designedly leave or keep their people or themselves in darkness or in twilight, in preference to clearer light, and who wish that while people are (and will be, whether we choose or not) advancing in the exercise of their faculties, and in know- ledge in all other departments, they should be brought down to a lower level of contented ignorance in religion than was deemed sufficient even for slaves and semibar- barians 1800 years ago. ' If any popular proofs which are wanting can be sup- plied of the genuineness and authenticity of the sacred books, I shall rejoice to see it done. But it is going too far to presume that no one needs to have it shown that there are proofs accessible to ordinary men of the exist- ence and antiquity of G-reek and Hebrew writings. ' A man of great learning and ability may chance to have never met with any one who had any doubts on that point ; but this hardly warrants the assertion of the nega- tive, unless at least he had conversed (as I have) with persons who have been present at the debating-clubs in the neighbotuhood of Manchester, &c., and who have had intercourse with the members of those clubs. If he had, he would have found, I think, reasons for a different conclu- sion. Among the educated classes, indeed, there are pro- bably few unbelievers who do not admit the antiquity, and deny the authenticity, of our sacred books ; but it is not so with the uneducated. And in this I stand alone: I will undertake to say there are multitudes who do admit the existence of those ancient books, but who believe this only — and are confident that it can be believed only — on the very same ground on which they admit the authen- ticity both of those books and likewise of all the legends and traditions of the Eomish Church, — viz., the word of their priests, who neither can nor will give them any other reason. Perhaps all that relates to the Eomish Church may be thought of very little moment in reference to the publications of the Society for Promoting Christian Know- lU LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1837 ledge. But the fact is, a gi'eat number of Eoman Catholics are now beginning to read — and, to Bishop MacHale's extreme alarm, to read the evidences ! ' The letter which follows, addressed to the Bishop of Norwich, is on a subject at this time deeply engrossing the Archbishop's mind. He was now engaged in the second of that series of ' Easy Lessons,' which were carried on at intervals throughout his life, and which, smaH and unpretending as they appeared, he regarded as of more real importance than his larger works. The first of the series, ' Lessons on Money Matters,' had been an endeavour to bring the leading principles of Political Economy within the comprehension of the young and unlearned. The second, which he was now commencing, was on a subject of higher importance, ' The Evidences of the Truth of Christianity.' • He was desirous of placing within the reach of the mass of the people clear and comprehensive views of the religion they profess — such as might enable a humble and moderately-instructed Christian to ' give a reason of the hope that is in him.' To the Bishop of Nortuich, ' Leamington, July 25, 1837. ' My dear Lord, — .... I am very glad you approve of the attempt. I am beginning to give an outline of the Evidences, chiefly for the benefit of the Eoman Catholics, who are in great danger from the sudden influx of light ; and yet we are neither authorised nor able to keep them any longer in darkness. If, first, education be spread ; secondly, universal scepticism be guarded against, which is the danger of the transition state ; thirdly, May- nooth be reformed (of which there is some hope) ; fourthly, if the payment of the priests can be brought about ; and fifthly (last but not least), if the Sovereign can be brought to visit Ireland — not once for all, like George IV., but as a resident for at least a month or two every year or two — * First published in the * Saturday Magazine.' .Et. 50] GEXEROUS COXCERX FOR BLANCO WHITE. 145 Ireland may become a really valuable portion of the British Empire, instead of a sort of morbid excrescence. In some of these objects you have been a most valuable aid, and perhaps may be in more ; besides which, I hope both for your advice and example in tliat important change — the introduction of a professional training for the clergy. ' I hope you will deserve and obtain, besides higher rewards, the glory of being valued by those whose praise is a real credit, and liberally abused by those whose abuse is the only glory they can confer.' The success of the Archbishop's attempt to bring the evidences of our religion within the comprehension of the unlearned has been attested by the widespread circulation of the book in question, not only in English, but in most other modern languages ; but proofs more interesting and touching may be cited of its effect on individuals. Two instances have come before the writer's knowledge of hardened infidels (both intelligent men of the artisan class) who have been convinced of the truth of Christianity and led to the study of the Scriptures, and ultimately, as it appeared, to receive the truth into their hearts, by the agency of this little book. One of these lived, labom-ed, and died as a missionary teacher in a foreign land ; the other did not long survive his conversion, but gave .every evidence of its being a real one. These are but two iso- lated instances out of many which will doubtless be known in the day when all secrets shall be revealed. The following letter, to his friend Mr. Blanco White, is interesting, as showing the constant and generous concern for his welfare and comfort, which no differences of opinion could for a moment slacken : — 'Leamington: August 1837. ' My dear Blanco, — Eemind Mrs. W., in case she should forget, of the books from Senior, which she is bringing you. He has been writing for a conveyance for them. ' And pray consult with her on the subject which I treated on some time ago — the question of your fixing L 14G LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1837 voiirself in a warmer spot than where you are. Liverpool is not in point of latitude what one would fix on for a native of Spain peculiarly sensitive to cold, but I am led to believe it is a cold and damp atmosphere, even for its latitude. x\nd it does seem to me you have suffered from it much that you might have had a chance of avoiding in Devon or Cornwall. Only do not wait to form any plans till the winter is just at hand, but think of it while the warm weather has some time to last. 'And surely I need not say the trifling expense attend- ing a removal, if othervrise desirable, is not worth a thought.' At this time the Archbishop was also much engaged in an earnest endeavour to do away with the oaths adminis- tered by him, as Chancellor of the Order of St. Patrick, to those who were installed. His petition to the Queen ^ will show his views in de- siring this change, better than any explanation coidd do ; and the letter which follows, to Earl (then Lord John) Russell, will farther elucidate them : — To the Lord John Russell. 'Dablin: August 28, 1837- ' My dear Lord, — I am just arrived, and lose no time in acknowledging the favour of your lordship's letter, apprising me of Her 31ajesty's gracious compliance with my application, in reference to the oaths administered to the Knights of St. Patrick. ' I wish your lordship to convey to Her Majesty, if you should see any occasion on which it would be suitable, the expression of my sincere gratitude for the condescending readiness with which my request has been listened to. ' It is a source of additional gratification to me that the relief afi'orded has come not in the shape of a special dispensation to myself indi\-iduallj (which is all that I i > Post, p. 155. k jEt. 50] LETTER TO LORD RUSSELL OX OATHS. 147 could myself presume to apply for), hut in a mode which seems more distinctly to recognise the reasonableness of the principle by which I have been actuated. ' I have long since been accustomed, at Oxford, to lend my aid to those who have been labouring — and ultimately with considerable success — to get rid of the multitude of needless academical oaths. The ill-effects of these on the minds of the members of the University and on the whole character of academical bodies, I have for many years had ample opportunities of observing. I shall always be pre- pared to advocate in Parliament a corresponding course ; but in so doing I might have been justly charged witli inconsistency if I came forward to propose legislative measures for diminishing superfluous oaths, while at the same time I used no endeavours for diminishing those which could be dispensed with without any application to Parliament, and in which I was myself a party con- cerned.' .... The foUowing^'ew. cVesprit — a letter composed of a string of proverbs — will be amusing to many, and illustrate his remarkable and characteristic love of, and extensive acquaintance with, these short and pithy sayings. He was fond of collecting and collating similar ones in dif- ferent languages, and comparing their various peculiarities. The ' Proverb Copies,' which he published some years later, for the use of the National Schools, are highly characteristic of his mind in this respect. Letter from the Archbishop of Dublin to a Lculy ivho requested his opinion on the present state of Ireland, ' May 1837. ' The occasion is now arrived when all who wish to deliver this country from its troubles and ward off its impending dangers ought to exert themselves, and, as the proverb says, " Take time by the forelock." We may regret that so many opportunities have been already lost ; but, as the proverb says, " The miller cannot grind with the L 2 148 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1837 water that is past." If we would not be worse than fools, whom, as the proverb says, " experience teaches," we should consider liowto avoid losinganother opportunity, which may be the last, and then we shall repent it, since, as the proverb says, " Bien perdu bien connu." Standing still and wait- ing never did any good, for, as the proverb says, " Though the sun stood still, time never did." " To-morrow," as the proverb says, " comes never." It is in vain to wish that things were in a different state from what they are. " I never fared worse," as the proverb says, " than when I had a wish for my supper ; " and it is no less to talk of what we would do if the case were diiOferent, for, as the proverb says, " If my aunt had been a man she would have been my uncle," and "if the sky should fall," as says the proverb, " we should catch larks." It is idle to look for a change of jNIinisters, and hope great things from a dif- ferent party in power, for, as the proverb says, "To a leaky ship all winds are contrary ; " and it is more idle to waste our spirits in anger against another's fault, for, as the proverb says, "There are two kinds of things a man should never get angry at — what he cannot help, and what he can." A wise man will never be driven desperate, and. as the proverb says, " throw the horse away after the saddle." But if we do exert ourselves to help the Church and the nation, others who are now lost in apathy may follow the example, for, as tlie proverb says, " Two dry sticks win kindle a green one." This is much better than fretting ourselves with grief and indignation, since, as the proverb says, " What is the use of patience if we cannot find it when we want it ? " — " He who gives way to anger punishes himself for the fault of another." The state of things is now such as calls for a fundamental and perma- nent remedy that shall remove the cause of existing evils. To look merely for a palliation of each evil as it arrives is, as the proverb says, " To work at the pump and to leave the leak open." If we leave things alone we shall find them indeed, as the proverb says, " like sour ale in summer ; " and to grudge any sacrifice, inconvenience, or trouble, for a greater and more lasting advantage, is to be, as the * .Et. 50] AN EPISTOLARY STRIXG OF PROVERBS. 149 proverb says, " Penny wise and pound foolish." " No pains no gains," as the proverb says, and again, as the proverb says, " If you will not take pains, pains will take you." "We had better," as the proverb says, " wear out shoes than sheets." We must not be merely satisfied with pleading rights which we cannot defend, when, as the proverb says, " Might overcomes right." " No man can live on an income of which he gets," as the proverb says, " no pence in the pound." Besides, we should remember that, as the proverb says, "He buys honey too dear who licks it off thorns." It is indeed not to be wondered at that those who have suffered much should easily be alarmed, and always, as the proverb says, "misgive that they may not mistake." But they should guard against imaginary dangers, as " The scalded cat," says the proverb, " fears cold water," and " He that is bitten by a serpent," as the proverb says, " is afraid of a rope." But, as the proverb says, To run away is to run a risk." I do not mean that anything can be proposed which is not open to objection. " A fool," as the proverb says, " can easily find faults which a wise man cannot easily mend." But the question is to find out what course is open to the least objection, for we should remember, as the proverb says, " Half a loaf is better than no bread," and again, as the proverb says, " A man with a wooden leg goes the better for it." We must not seek for the best thing we could imagine, but for the best that is practicable, and, as the proverb says, " Drive the nail that will go." " If we cannot alter the wind," as the proverb says, " we must turn the mill sails." We have found by experience what can be expected from those who express great regard for us. Many of them are, as the proverb says, " Grood friends at a sneeze ; one can get nothing but G-od bless you I " and some of them have given us good reason to say, according to the proverb, " Save me from my friends — I care not for my enemies," Some of them are, as the proverb says, " As honest as any man in the cards when the kings are out." It is time, therefore, that we look with less distrust towards those who do not make such high professions, for, as the proverb 150 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP • WHATELY. [1837 says, " An ass that will carry me is better than a horse that will throw me," and again, as the proverb says, " Better an ass that speaks right than a prophet that speaks wrong." And if we will not learn this in time, we shall find, as the proverb says, As we brew so must we bake." But though all this, to me, seems very much to the purpose, you will, perhaps, think it tedious and vapid, because, as the proverb says, " Wise men make proverbs, and fools repeat them." Eemember, however, that, as the proverb says, " Though fools learn nothing from wise men, wise men learn much from fools." ' It was in this year (1837) that Dr. AVhately's special efforts for the abolition of transportation, in connection with Sir William Moleworth's Committee of Enquiry, were commenced. This committee had sprung from one formed in 1835, for the purpose of examining into the state of the colonies, and clearing them from abuses. The Archbishop of Dublin's interest in the subject being well known, his co-operation was earnestly sought. His views and opinions on many subjects differed widely from those of several of the leading members of this committee, but he always felt it right to unite in the furtherance of a common object with any who would work with him, however widely their opinions might differ on other points. His brother-in-law, the Eev. Henry Bishop, was examined in this year before the committee, and in the following year the Archbishop's letter to him was published in the Minutes of Evidence of the Select Committee on Transportation. It was about this period also that the movement at Oxford, which commenced with the violent opposition to Dr. Hampden's appointment as Bampton Lecturer, in 1834, and subsequently became identified with what is now called ' Tractarianism,' was in full force. Some remarks which the Archbishop frequently made in conver- sation, respecting this movement, will explain, better than any notices by another would, the manner in which he viewed this celebrated movement : — JEt. 50] TABLE-TALK : ON TRACTAEIANISM. 151 Table- Talk. — On Tractarianism, ' " The Pastoral Epistle" (by Dr. Dickinson) was reviled as unjust, and derided as absurd, for pointing out and foretelling just what afterwards came to pass ; and yet, what is still stranger, we are looked down upon even now as only half enlightened, by people who congratulate themselves on not having gone the whole length of the Tracts — only the first two volumes, which are the very ones from which he drew his prophecy ; and these gifted individuals, who could not see their tendency even when pointed out, nor understand the grounds of the prophecy even after it is fulfilled, hug themselves with the thought that they never cultivated stinging-nettles, only the nettle- roots. ' He perceived, with me, that the Hampden persecution was the first outbreak of Tractism,^ and its success the great strengthener of the party. The combustibles were ready indeed, and some other spark, if not that, would have kindled them ; but the support the party received at the time of that persecution, from those who did not really belong to them, but opposed Hampden from political or other motives, gave them a great lift. ' In Hampden's case, it must be owned, I did not antici- pate any outbreak so monstrous as did ensue, and, what is more, if I had remained head of Alban Hall it would never have taken place. This is quite certain, for my successor was one of the most violent of the persecutors, and the measure passed the Board of Heads by one vote. But most of my Oxford friends have assured me that the thing would not even have been attempted ; that those disposed to it would have shrunk from encountering the exposure they would have had to expect at the Hebdo- madal Board ; and that those who were led away would have found the better suggestions of their minds fortified. ' It is thus that, as many of my friends assure me, I exercised a considerable influence at Oxford — not great on • The Archbishop 'always preferred this term to the more commonly employed one of Tractarianism. 152 LIFE OF .\ECHBISHOP TVTL\TELT. any one individualj but a little on a gTeat number. Cer- tain it is, at least, whether accidentally or not, that Oxford is a -widely different place, and has long been so, from what it was while I resided there. There have been, perhaps, other persecutions as unjust and as cruel (none more so, if we take into account the times and circumstances of each ; for burning of heretics is unsuited to the present age, and moreover was not in the power of the Hampden perse- cutors ; they did all that they could and dared, and so did Bonner), but for impudence I never knew the like. To find out, three years after the Bampton Lectures had been delivered, and two years after they had been published, that they were dangerously heterodox, though they had passed at the time not only unanswered, but with high applause I There never was a more lame and palpably false pretence so shamefully brought forward. ' I used often to remark, while it was going on, that the instances continually dis|3layed in it of combined folly, cruelty, and baseness were startling even to one who, like me, had not anticipated much greatness or goodness from human nature. But there is no telling, when a pond seems clear, how much mud there may be at the bottom till you stir it up.' The following letter shows his lively interest in plans of colonisation : — To N. Senior, Esq. ' Dublin : Xorember 8, 1837 (Saturday night). ' Hinds has written to me, and sent me a book about a proposed colonisation of Xew Zealand, and I tliink he either had applied or meant to apply to you. Pray take an opportimity of asking Stephen ^ whether he has heard of the plan, which I think he must, from Lieutenant Grray. ' Under-Secretarr for the Colonies. Several publications appeared, in this and the following rears, respecting that plan of colonisation which was ultimately carried into partial execution by the New Zealand Company, established in 1841. .Ex. 50] lEISn OUT-DOOR EELIEF BILL. 153 ' The country certainly seems to have many advantages; and as for the act of colonising, if anything is to be learnt from past errors, we have no want of instructions. ' By the bye, what a pity it is, and yet the evil is un- avoidable, that in so many cases (as that in the suppressed evidence) the public are led to false results by the siip- pressio veri, &c. The only thing to be done is to give a very strong declaration of the horrible character of what is suppressed. But this is very insufficient, when on the one side you have " details," and on the other merel}^ " totum." The horrors of one campaign — of one capture of a city, if detailed, would create such a horror of war as nothing else could, and such as the reality justifies. This cannot be done. But, then, the worst of it is, all the brilliant parts of the war are discussed — the skill and valour displayed, the enterprise and excitement, every- thing that can render war attractive ; we have a full dis- play, as it were, of the beautiful head and bosom of Milton's "Sin," while a decent veil is thrown over the monsters that spring from her waist. It is a pity that we should thus whiten the sepulchre ! If I had received your letter in time to-day, I would have answered it by return, that you might have had something to show Lord Lansdowne. I hope you showed him the letter to Bowood. You do not say what instructions Sir Gr, Gripps takes out to New South Wales.' The contemplated introduction of the Irish Poor-law now occupied the Archbishop's mind most painfully. All his efforts to bring English legislators to understand the true state of the case in Ireland, according to his view of it, were unavailing. ' Those with whom I attempted to argue on the subject,' he would remark, ' used to say that " something must be done for Ireland," and something, therefore, be it good or bad, they resolved should be done. remarked to me, when the Outdoor Relief Bill was passing, that the feeling of the English was a mixture of revenge, compassion, and self-love. They pitied the suffering poor of Ireland ; LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELr. [1837 they had a fierce resentment against Irish landlords, whom they hastily judged to be the sole authors of those suffer- ings ; and they dreaded calls on their own purse. WTien men decide and act under the strong influence of passion, especially thres passions at once, they are usually not veiy wise in their measures. ' It was much like Swift's recommendation,' he would add, * to a lady's-maid, when sent to open a drawer or box. and unable to find the right key ; she is to force one of them into the lock, and wrench till she either opens the drawer or breaks the key : " for yoiu- mistress will think you a fool if you come back and have done nothing!" And such a mistress did the Commissioners find the British public* The recommendations of the Archbishop and his col- leagues were — to take, at all events, no step of irretriev- able risk ; to proceed gradually, and be content rather to leave some evils unremedied for the present, than produce other and greater ones by rashness ; and to hegiiu at least, by conferring such benefits, however small, as they could be reasonably sure would be such — as insritutions for the blind, deaf and dumb, &c. But no : ' Something must be done for Ireland,* and ' There is no making it worse than it is,' were the cry of England; and the Archbishop fire- quently observed, that many in England were really imder tbe impression that it would be desirable to take such measiu-es as might prevent the periodical immigration of Irish labourers to England for the harvest-work, ' to take the bread out of the mouths of the English labourers,' and ' to carry away with them English money into Ireland' — as if it were not plain that if the work they did were not worth more than that money, it would not be worth any one's while to employ them. The following petition to the Queen is on a sabject mentioned before, that of the oaths administered by the Chancellor of the Order of St. Patrick : — ^T. 50] PETITIOI^ TO THE QUEEN ON OATHS. 155 ' To the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty, ' May it please your Majesty, ' I presume to approach your Majesty, in a strong hope that the conscientious scruples of any of your Majesty's subjects will be considered not undeserving of your royal notice, and that your Majesty's favour will be graciously extended to the telief of any one of them from whatever may be felt as a grievance, where such relief can be afforded with no detriment or inconvenience to others. ' The case which I beg permission humbly to submit to your Majesty's consideration, is the following : — ' As Archbishop of Dublin, I am officially Chancellor of the most illustrious Order of St. Patrick, and in that capacity am called on to administer, from time to time, the oaths to those created knights. ' This oath (of which I enclose a copy) is merely a matter of form, and not intended or felt as imposing any restriction or duty which the candidate might have been likely otherwise^ to neglect. It is, in fact, merely a part of the ceremonial, designed for the increase of the antique splendour and dignity of the order, and of all that is con- nected with it. 'Now, the scruple I feel in respect of oaths of this kind turns on this very circumstance. It seems to be admitted by most Christians that oaths are then only justifiable, and exempt from the charge of profaneness, when called for by necessity, and (as the 39th Article of the Church expresses it) " in a cause of faith and charity," and that all others must come under the description (in the same Article) of " vain and rash swearing." ' I have not only subscribed that Article according to the above interpretation, but, in common with the rest of the clergy, I have been accustomed thus to explain and inculcate the duty which it appears to me to convey, and which I conceive to be also implied in the proclamations issued by your Majesty and your illustrious predecessors. The thoughtless and unpremeditated manner in which some persons introduce the most Holy Name in familiar 156 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1837-8 conversation, however insufficient as an excuse, is at least no aggravation of their fault, as compared with a de- liberate use of that Name uncalled for by any important object. ' My humble request, therefore, to your Majesty is, that by virtue of the supreme authority unquestionably vested in the Sovereign of the Order, your Majesty may be pleased to dispense with the oath above referred to. ' 1 beg leave to submit that a similar dispensing power has been exercised from time to time in matters more important in reference to the institution, as being more calculated to strike the public eye, and adding to the solemn splendour of the ceremonial — such as the proces- sion to St. Patrick's Cathedral, and occasionally even the wearing of the mantle at the time of investiture. ' It has appeared to me that the occasion most suitable for laying before your Majesty such an application as this, and the least inconvenient for the discontinuance, should your Majesty deem it advisable, of an ancient practice, is at the auspicious commencement of a new reign, before any candidate has been actually admitted of the order. ' Permit me to subscribe myself, with the most pro* found respect. Madam, your Majesty's most devoted and most dutiful subject, 'EiCHARD Dublin.' ^Et. 51] SUGGESTIONS OX LOXDOX UNIVEESITY. 157 CHAPTER VI. 1838-1839. L( tter to Dr. Arnold on tlie London University — Revisits Oxford — Letter to Mr. Senior — Letters to Rev. Baden Powell on his work ' Tradition Unveiled' — Letter to Rev. Dr. Dickinson — Starts on Continental tour — Visits the field of Waterloo — Conversation with the King of the Belgians — Letter to Mr. Dickinson on Switzerland and Italy — Makes the acquain- tance of M. Sismondi — Letter to Mr. Senior on 'Travelling' — Disap- pointed at the failure of his scheme for a new Divinity College —Mis- representations of the scheme — Returns to Dublin — Letters to Mr. Senior on various subjects- -Urged by his friends to attend Parliament— Letter to Miss Crabtree — Madame Fabre translates the ' Lessons on the Evidences of Christianity ' — Letter to M. Fabre on the translation. The first letter of this year which comes before us is in answer to some questions of Dr. Arnold,^ on the subject of the then newly-founded London University : — ' Dublin: January 5, 1838. ' My dear Arnold, — The best way, perhaps, in which I can throw light on the questions you refer to me, will be by adverting to some matters which have come under my own experience, especially when that experience has been counter to my previous expectations. ' Six years ago, or more, I should have been rather inclined to doubt the possibility of having any instruction ot any examinations in Christian Scriptures, that all various denominations might peaceably partake of. ' When Lord Stanley formed the Education Board, he had no such thought. And when first Mr. Carlyle pro- posed drawing up Scripture Extracts, I partook of the same expectations with Bishop Philpotts, that no selections ' It is the only letter to Dr. Arnold which has been preserved. 158 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1838 could be introduced with the concurrence of all parties, such as should be of any utility. But I was as willing to have the experiment tried as he was anxious to prevent it, and as much rejoiced as he was mortified and provoked at the unexpected success. I do not even now think my apprehensions groundless. The obstacles were incom- parably greater than those to any analogous plan in England.^ ' The Koman Catholics do not, like the Dissenters, use the same version of the Bible as the Churchmen ; they do not permit the free and indiscriminate use of Scripture ; they do not make Scripture their sole standard of faith ; they do not appeal to the authorised version, or the Greek original, as their standard of Scripture, but to the Vulgate ; and they have been recently engaged in controversies with the Kildare Place Society on those very questions. More- over, large and fierce mutual persecutions had embittered the two parties against each other; and most of the Protestant clergy and many of the laity made it their study to excite dissensions relative to our schools. And lastly, a large proportion of the priests, being themselves very slightly acquainted with Scripture, could not be ex- pected to look with a favourable eye on the study of any part of it by their flocks. My apprehensions therefore were, I still think, quite reasonable. The result, however, was complete success. All the effort to raise jealousy in reference to the Scripture Extracts have, within the schools themselves, totally failed. ' They are read with delight and profit by almost all the children ; and I and other Protestants, as Bishop Stanley knows, have examined the children of all deno- minations, without knowing to which each child belonged, raising no jealousy, and finding them better taught in Scripture than most gentlefolks' children. Of course Mr. Spring-Kice will remark, when this is laid before him ' In connection with this subject, it maybe observed that it was in 1837 that the Archbishop produced the celebrated tract, ' Easy Lessons on Chris- tian Evidences,' afterwards admitted into the mixed schools by Dv, Murray, and finally objected to by Dr. CuUen in 1853. JEt. 51] SUGGESTIONS OX LOXDOX UXIYERSITY. 159 (which he already knows), that, first, I was prepared to go on with the system, even if no Scripture Extracts had been received ; and secondly, that the use of them is only recommended, not enforced. This is quite true ; and I am glad that in the few schools — they are but very few — where no Scripture is read, the children at least learn to read, write, and cipher. ' And I would not scruple to have certificates made out, if any were required in such cases, that such-and-such a boy had been diligent and orderly, had read such-and-such books, and passed an examination in arithmetic. But I would not grant a certificate that the boy had gone through a course of education suitable to his station ; that would imply that I considered a knowledge of the very first out- lines of Christian History as improper or superfluous for a peasant. If any one said, " He is free to receive that knowledge from his priest," I should answer, " Very well: I do not declare that he has not received a competent education, or that he might not if he would ; but I cannot certify that he has. I can only certify, if you please, that I do not know to the contrary, and that he has been left to take his chance." Now, to a child brought up in our model school, or in one similar to it, I could grant a cer- tificate (analogous to a degree), stating that he had re- ceived a regular course of instruction, sufficient to qualify him to be generally a member of society in a Christian country, with reference to his station in life — not, indeed, instruction in the peculiarities of any particular Church, or in the professional points of any particular trade, but in that which every one (of whatever sect, and of whatever occupation) ought to be acquainted with in common, in order to deserve the title of decently educated. ' But had the plan gone no further than Lord Stanley at first proposed and expected, I should not have considered it as furnishing education, but only a portion of education ; and I should have been glad to furnisli even a small part of that portion, if no more could have been admitted. If there had been a scruple against teaching anything beyond the alphabet, I should have been glad to have even that taught. 160 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1838 ' From what I have actually done and tlioiight and seen, you may pretty well conjecture how I sliould be likely to act in respect of the London University. In the first place, I should point out, first, from the experience of a far, very far more difficult trial, the perfect feasibility of having the historical books of the Bible as a portion of the studies and examinations; and secondly, the importance of this as a portion of general education, on the ground that Christianity is the prevailing religious profession of the country. I should call for no signing of articles — no profession of faith ; but I should point out that in those portions of the empire where the Mahometan religion prevails, it is essential that those who are to reside among the Mussulmans and hold official situations should have some acquaintance with the Koran. ' To say that a man can have gone through a course of liberal education in this country, totally ignorant of the outlines of Christian History, is to imply not merely that the Christian religion is untrue or bad, but that it is in- significant and unworthy of serious attention, except from those who have a fancy for it — as is the case with the mythological antiquities of the Anglo-Saxons, or the dreams of astrology and alchemy. And if anyone should say, " You need not doubt that the students do acquire this knowledge in other ways," I should say, " Very well ; I do not say to the contrary. I will certify, if you please, that they may, for aught I know, have gone through a suitable and complete course of education ; but I will not certify, by conferring anything in the nature of a degree, that they have done so, unless they shall have given proof before the University, as such, that they have." But if I was answered that the conductors of the University despaired of the possibility of conducting any examina- tions or lectures on the Grreek Testament, so as to avoid jealousies and contests, I should consent to obtain what benefit we could — reckoning even half a loaf, or half a quarter of a loaf, better than no bread. But nothing would ever induce me to call it a whole loaf. ' If objections are raised to examinations in History — ^T. 51] SUGGESTIONS OX LOXDOX UXIVERSITY. 161 and it would be very easy so to conduct these, or so to re- present the conduct of them, as to raise religious objections and jealousies — and if similar scruples extended to every- thing except Euclid and Chemistry, I should say, " Then let Euclid and Chemistry be taught, and let a student have a certificate of having attended these lectures and passed an examination in them ; but let not this certificate be con- founded with a degree, or with anything certifying that the student had gone through what was, in the opinion of the Governors of the Institution, a sufficieDt course of liberal instruction." For if such a certificate related partly to instruction, supposed to have been received at home, which the Governors of the Institution did conceive to be essential, but which they did not themselves either suppl}" or ascertain, then they might inwardly believe, but would have no right to certify publicly, the completeness of the education ; if, again, they did reckon the course of in- struction given within the Institution to be complete, they would be right in certifying that they thought so ; but I should have no right to express a concurrence in their views. Many, I believe, would be scandalised at the ground on wliich I contend for a knowledge of Christian History as an essential part of a course of liberal education — viz., not the ground of its truth, but of its important place in society. But I am taking the only ground on which I conceive it can be with justice in any manner required. It has been the common practice for ages, in most States of Christendom, to require a profession of belief, but not knowledge. A man was required to profess himself a Christian Trinitarian — an Anti-Transubstan- tiationist — a Nicean, &c. ; but he might, if he pleased, remain ignorant whether Christ came before or after Mahomet — was born in Asia or Europe — was descended from David or from Nebuchadnezzar. My views are quite the reverse of these ; and, whether right or wrong, they are most deliberate and well weighed. ' Ever yours affectionately, ' E. Whately.' M 162 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1838 ' Probably October, 1838. ' My dear H., — . ... I hear has written to B. White to reproach him with having left the Church of Rome ! All the world seems going mad. As for poor B. W., it is like looking for a monster in the moon which was only a fly in the telescope, to reason with or about him. An organic complaint, whose effects on the nerves are aggravated by laudanum, is the whole of his heresy.' ' In great haste, ' Yours affectionately, 'K. Whately.' Part of the autumn of this year (1838) was spent by the family at Oxford. It was the last time that Dr. Whately made any considerable stay in this the scene of his earliest labours and happiest years. A change had come over the old city, which made it, for him, very different from the ' Alma Mater ' of his early days. The band of old friends were scattered, and among those who remained, contro- versy had brought painful disunion. A blight seemed even to have fallen on the brilliant literary reputation of Oriel ; and to him, regarding the whole subject as he did, Oxford was now a place full of very painful associations. When approaching it he has often said, ' I feel as if I were beholding not only the dead face of a dear friend, but his mouldering and decaying corpse.' At this time, however, it was ' long vacation,' and the renewed recollections of the past were less vivid. And a sister-in-law, much beloved by him, having now, by her marriage with his old friend Professor Powell, become fixed at Oxford, gave the place a more cheering aspect in his eyes. His stay in Oxford this year naturally drew his attention much to the controversy still raging, on the subject of Dr. Hampden's lectures. The following letter was written to Mr. Senior on his way home : — 'Rugby : October 10, 1838. ' My dear Senior, — Here we are on our return home. We have been two months in England, for J.'s health, who ^T. 51] LETTER ON CHURCH MEMBERSHIP. 163 is better, though fer from stout. We were most of the time at Oxford. Not many there, of course, in September, but the Powells were the chief attraction. ' I very much doubt between Oxford and Cambridge for my boy. Oxford, which I should otherwise prefer, on many accounts, has, at present, two-thirds of the steady reading men Eabbinists, i,e, Puseyites. ' I am led to expect to find, on my return, the Educa- tion Board all at sixes and sevens, and shall probably have to resign. I know no particulars, but I hear that was there in his late visit to Ireland, and if he did not meddle, I can only say it will have been the only matter I know of in which he has not meddled. " Oh, let me play the lion ! " ' O'Connell, you may have heard, has recommenced agitation, having got up an association of " Precursors," commonly called, for shortness, cursers. ' I think the town of Oxford seems improved in some respects. The defeat of 's attempt to keep his men from Hampden's lectures is felt as a sore defeat, and there is a talk about repealing the persecuting statute ; and the heads who last year appointed ^ , apparently for the express purpose of crying up tradition (which he did so extravagantly that he does not venture to publish his Bampton lectures), have elected for next year Congreve expressly to preach on the other side.' 'Rugby: Oct. 15, 1838. ' My dear Hawkins, — * . . . You wish to know whether I think a Church should be a voluntary associa- tion. Yes, I do» Now, if you are disposed to do battle, stop here, and read no further: "It is a very pretty quarrel as it stands, and explanation would only spoil it." 'The fact is, I do not ever use the word " voluntary" (as I observe it now and then is used) to imply that the thing is a matter of mere taste and fancy, involving no duty ; like a man's belonging or not to the Linnean Society, &c. ; but merely as excluding external coercion, so as to include most cases of moral obligation ; e.g. alms- u 2 ) 164 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP TTHATELT. [1838 giving, which cannot but be voluntary ; since a poor-rate, or anything which one is compelled to part with, cannot be given. On the other hand, a man is, and should be, compelled to support his wife and family. ' I observe a laxity of language in several writers, in respect of this class of terms, which tends, I think, to confusion of thought, especially to the confounding to- gether matters of choice and matters of indifference. Anything left to a person's discretion is understood to be left to his indiscretion, as if there could be no responsi- bility in the exercise of discretion ; as if because Parlia- ment has a right to permit or to prohibit the importation of corn, therefore they are equally right whichever they resolve on. Look at almost any of the discussions respect- ing the right of " private judgment" in religious matters, and you will generally see it assumed that ''judgment" can mean nothing different from taste, caprice, inclina- tion. Look at any of the discussions on the Marriage Act, and you will generally see them turn to the questions, whether it is a good thing that marriage should be accompanied with a religious rite ; without any notice of the question whether the religious rite should be a matter of conscientious choice or of legal coercion. ' If you were to look at the Times (and several papers copied the paragraph) about a month back, you would be diverted to find them censuring me for saying in the charge, that a man may conscientiously remain a member of a Church whose doctrines and ordinances he disapproves ! ' As for the passage in the charge which you notice, if you will look at it again, I think you will oee that I am. not at all touching on the question as to the degree of " assent and consent '' which is implied by a man's remaining or becoming a member of any Church whose creeds and formularies he is cominced £ire (as we declare ours not to be) " in themselves superstitious, and contrary to God's Word ;" and few again would contend that his remaining in that Chm-ch implies his persuasion of the unerring perfection of every sentence ; but between these, there are infinite shades of opinion, and much diversity jEt. 52] LETTER TO BADEN POWELL OX TRADITION. 165 prevails. But to have discussed this question in that place would have been utterly irrelevant to the subject in hand. I was distinguishing a religious party (in the sense explained) from a Church : the question was not as to how far, but to ivhat a man's agreement is to be pre- sumed, from his belonging to a certain Church ; viz. (as I pointed out), not to the opinions prevailing from time to time among the members, but to the authorised formu- laries and regular enactments. ' And this, I think, is an important distinction ; for there are some, both within and without each Church — friends and foes — who speak as if a Church was a party, its members responsible for the doctrines of every treatise or sermon by eminent divines of their communion : as if some opinion, wish, design, &c., that may chance to be entertained by the King, and five or six hundred men who happen to be members of Parliament, were to be as binding as an Act of Parliament. ' Ever yours most truly, ' Ed. Whately.' The first letter in 1839 we shall give, is to the Eev. Baden Powell, then engaged on his work, ' Tradition Un- veiled ' : 'March 1839. ' My dear Powell, — Provost S., a man of great acute- ness, remarked that you seemed to place tradition too low. Have we not, he said, 1st, the Sacred Scriptm^es by tradition ; 2ndly, the inspiration of them by tradition ; Srdly, many practices and many interpretations from tradition ? ' The first I admitted ; remarking, however, that if a letter from a friend was brought me by a messenger of a tolerably fair character, intellectual and moral, who also reported to me (at first, second, or third hand) my friend's oral remarks on the same subject, I should attach very different degrees of weight to the letter and to the report. I might think the man incapable of forging the letter. 166 LD5tS of JkBCHBISHOP TTHATELT. and ret might suspect, either that he had ' understood the oonvirasatiQD, or that the ii. port ers had, or that it was coloured by their : or. lastly, that my friend, by not insseitiL. his letter, had deiigiied it only Ibr those br to, or had meant it to be left at my disci direction to be iniSKBted on, like his wri: Hereiji|K>n it was remarked that the tradiit : in^ the Komanists) may mge that it is a il of the iD&IHble certainty of the inspired ^ turess, if we are to exercise onr own coni- judgment in deciding the qnesticm as to then for since no chain can be stronger than it - if we rest our religioas belief on the Sac: and refer to tradition for the assunqition it Sacred Scriptnres, our belief must lest^ tradition — a traditioii, indeed, idiidi we thin of credit than some which the Eomanists I stiU we admit only on the decision of ov judgment as to the eTidcnoe by idiich it is ^ ' All this I admit, and more. Onr belie : for which we refer to Scripture, must rest eak mone, might instruct the world. Another cause is^ that he has a way of saying, I quite agree with you f and Swift remarks that the short way to obtain the reputa- tion of a sensible man is, when any one teUs you his opinion, to agree with him." Yes (you will perhaps answer^ a short way to gain it, and a short way to /ose it again : since such a maus word must often contradict his actions, and each other. So I should have thought, a JEt. 54] LETTER TO THE BISHOP OF LLAM)AFF. 207 priori, but much depends on whom you have to deal with. " Old birds," they say, " are not caught with chaff," but I suppose young ones are. I remember, soon after I came here, having occasion to point out a very objectionable passage in a sermon of 's (entering on politics), and he " quite agreed with me," but next week published the sermon as it was. Thenceforward I knew him, so far ; and before long, I knew him " intus et in cute." But there are many who have long had dealiugs with him, and yet have not found him out. These are right in reckon- ing him a superior man ; for superior to them he surely is. If Ministers trust him not to take any steps that may benefit himself, though all the Whigs in the Empire were to be hanged fifty cubits high, they will be acting against the knowledge of him which they ought to have acquired, and easily may. They fancy him a man of steady Whig principles. Heaven knows, he is pretty steady to his own principle, which is, to provide for his own interest ! I never knew him to act independently as to that principle. Those are equally mistaken who calculate on 's steady support of ^linisters. They ought to be aware, for it is no secret, that he was prepared to oppose the Tithe-Bills, tooth and nail ; only it happened not to come on while he was in Parliament. He is somewhat open to love of popu- larity witli those immediately around him, and has, I fear, too little principle to guard him against the effects. ' He has never opposed the Education Board ; but he has not, that I can learn, made any vigorous exertions in its favour. ' He is, Hke the other, a good-hiunoured character ; and likes, when he can, though not so unblushingly, to say and do at the moment whatever is Ukely to be acceptable to the person present. On the whole, I do not think either of them much more to be depended on by a party than , or myself. The two last wiU not support any ministerial measure where conscientious principle inter- feres, and self-interest or love of popularity may exercise a !ike interference in the case of others.' 208 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1841 To Bishop Copleston, 'Dublin: FeLniary o, 1841. ' is accounted, by the most competent judges here, an author rather to be referred to than read, being chiefly an indefatigable searcher in books ; a man pretty strong in " simplex apprehensio," weak in "judicium," and stark nought in " argumenta." I have not read him or on this subject, though the latter appears, from what I have read, to be decidedly clear, only eaten up with con- ceit. is a man who first makes up his mind (soon made up, as being very small), and then seeks for reasons ; of course, if he chance to stumble on a good one, not re- jecting it ; but he is not implicitly to be trusted even in his statements of facts. I do not mean that he would absolutely fabricate, but I have known him put forth (when on his own side) the greatest misstatements, which he could easily have ascertained to be such. In religion he is, in all essential points, a Papist ; only like Henry VITI., he would like to be himself Pope. The most offen- sive doctrines, including persecution, he does not disavow. Though a bitter enemy of the Eoman Catholics, he is yet one degree more bitter against all Protestants, including many members of his own Church who do not coincide with his views. Of com'se it would not suit their views to go to the root of the controversy, which lies in those points common to the Church of Kome and the Oxford Tractites ; a party whose origin I partly foresaw and foretold, with a delineation of its characteristics, in the " Errors of Eo- manism." ' To the Provost of OHel. 'February 28, 1841. . . . ' It is not likely that I shall want a reprint of the Address. . . . But in anything of the kind hereafter, I shall attend to your suggestion about chapter and verse. Not that I think what I said was likely to be otherwise understood. I do not suppose most of the readers would understand that ivhenever the end of a chapter or verse coincides with a break in the sense, it is ^T. 54] LETTER TO MR. HAWKINS. 209 invariably the result of mere chance ; nor, indeed, would the mistake — if they did make it — be of any consequence ; but it is worth pointing out that the ill consequences I allude to result from the very circumstance that the chapters and verses are divisions partly made with refer- ence to the sense, and partly not ; if they were always of a certain arbitrary length, like a lawyer's " folios " of so many words, or like the pages or lines of a particular book, no one would be misled. ' The other passage, about actions not being morally good or bad independently of the motive, does not, I think, need alteration, for this country at least. " Actions of the body alone " (if those are to be called actions in which the mind does not anticipate) " do possess no moral cha- racter ; as w]ien a man is pushed against another, or si TTvsvfJLa 'xpjJbia-aL irol^ or, if he administers poison, believing it to be medicine, &c. : but as for a voluntai^ act being called only an act of the body, and of no moral significa- tion, it is a notion of which I doubt if it ever did any harm ; because if anyone ever really did hold it, it must have been I think as a result^ not a cause, of the most complete depravity or insanity. At all events, it is un- known here. I wish I could say as much for Antinomian- ism in another and far more seductive form ; that of not only confessing sin, but railing at it and talking much about it, without the least particle of shame, fear, or re- morse ; people considering that they are then just in the condition of the Apostle Paul, whom they suppose to have been describing himself individually in Eomans vii., stop- ping at the end of the chapter^ to which they superadd, in lieu of the eighth chapter, their own figment about im- puted righteousness, as if the " wedding garment " were to be not only provided for the guests by the master, but worn for them by him. I had long since dreaded the apparent tendency of these views, but since my coming here I have seen the tree bearing abundantly the " wild grapes " that might have been expected. 'Ever yours truly, ' R. Whately.' p 210 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1841 ' P.S. I can "hardly think you would feel less appre- hensive about the doctrine of " reserve " than I do, if you had seen what I have of its rapid spread in this country, the extreme plausibility with which it is brought forward — artfully retracted or explained away — and then put forth anew ; and I may add, the false tenderness with which some shrink from imputing it even to those who have themselves confessed it. It is flattering to the baser kind of minds among the clergy, and accordingly has caught a good many of those who used to be among the " knowers " of the Gospel ; many of whom try to retain the characteristics of both parties ; and exhibit what would be to a person not enough interested in religion to be dis- gusted and mortified, a most ludicrous picture of a mixed monster, combining a fanatical conventicle-preacher with a Popish priest.' To the same, and probably of the same date. ' It is a notion with some people that when the parent stock of a fruit tree dies, all those grafted from it die too. On the same principle, perhaps, some are hoping that the smothering of the Tractite schism in the spot where it broke out will put an end to it everywhere. I cannot quite hope either that the present stock tvill die just now, or that if it did its grafts would follow. ' It may be said, with no small plausibility, that when the University authorities disdain every kind of connection ivith the Tracts, they raise something of a presumption against the declaration, by the very circumstance of their noticing the ninetieth, which dfd not come out more under the University auspices than the eighty-nine; and (to say nothing of the University offices conferred on the known leaders of the party) that the censure exclusively passed on the ninetieth gives somewhat of a sanction to the eight3^-nine. . . . Moreover, if the tracts are now considered as being brought to a close, that is likely to increase the purchasers of the entire set. So that, though I still regard the publication of the ninetieth Tract ^T. 54] ACCIDENT TO MRS. WHATELY. 211 as a rash step, I see no reason for concluding that the schism is at an end, or even at its height.' The letters which follow allude to a severe accident of Mrs. Whately, who was long laid up in consequence of a compound fracture of the leg, which threatened serious effects on her health. This anxiety suggested the follow- ing characteristic letter to Bishop Copleston : — 'March 7, 1841. ' My dear Lord, — Mrs. W., I am happy to say, is going on as favourably as we could venture to hope, but of course has suffered and must suffer mucli. It was a fortnight before she could be lifted out of bed to have it made. ' Once before, I had worse news to give of her, when for about three weeks she was wavering between life and death in the typhus-fever at Halesworth ; " And whether she'd live or die, why the doctors didn't know." She has suffered less than I had feared of her old enemy, palpita- tion, which always comes at the back of every other as- sailant, bodily or mental ; like the Helots of old, who were sure to make an insurrection when there was an earthquake, or a foreign war, or any other trouble at hand. ' What a strange thing it is that there are so many different kinds of bodily suffering, and some of them among the most severe, which we never call pain ; and yet there are different kinds of pain too ! What can be the differ- entia that belongs to all that we call " pain," and which is absent from these other sensations, which no one calls pains, but yet very disagreeable : e.g. nausea, sense of suffo- cation, nervous agitation, &c., and among others — what I believe is among the most dreadful, though I know it only by what I see in others, and hear them describe — that palpitation ? 'It is, as you say, a double trial of one's firmness, when the things to be borne are such as one cannot try or wish to be indifferent about. Opposition from enemies or strangers, obloquy or contempt from those one wishes to esteem, perverseness or folly in those from whom one has r 2 212 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1841 no reason to expect anything better, and the like, are things which to some people (as far as I can judge by- observation of them) are no trial of any consequence. I suppose those who have what the phrenologists call the organ of firmness much developed, receive a positive gratification from its exercise, and ditto with the organ of combativeness. My natural endowments on those points are but small ; and I believe it is, universally, more easy to acquire a habit of acting like than of feeling like a person of such natural endowments. ' It is commonly said at Oxford, at least used to be, that it was next to impossible to make a Wykehamist believe that any examination could be harder than that which the candidates for New College undergo. ' Now it is about equally difficult to convince me that anyone can have a greater or more painful effort to make than myself in acquiring a habit of firmness. In this, however, I may conceivably be mistaken; and whether I am or not, no one can ever decide, since no one can feel what is within another's breast. But in this I am a com- petent judge, that no earthly object could ever repay me for the labour and the anguish of remodelling my nature in these respects. I have succeeded so far that I have even found myself standing firm when some men of constitu- tional intrepidity have given way ; and, indeed, I have heard seamen say that if a mast is well spliced, it will sooner break anywhere else than there. I feel that I can trust this splice in my character ; but this I may safely say, that if anyone whom I conceived to be of just such a constitution as mine, but who had no thought or belief of another world, were to consult me whether, with a view to worldly objects alone, it were worth his while to attempt the conquest of timidity, irresolution, bashfulness, sensi- tiveness to public opinion, and other such dispositions, and whether, if he achieved this conquest, and made a creditable and thoroughly prosperous career in some public station, he would be repaid for his efforts and suffering, I should answer at once in the negative, and should recom- mend (supposing, all along, the present world alone to be JEt 54] TRACT XO. 90. 213 considered) that he should take the " failentis semita vitae . . . nunc veterum libris,nunc somno et inertibus horis,"&c. The process of mental case-hardening^ I should tell him, is more pain than Aladdin's lamp and ring would repay.' It was just about this time that the appearance of ' Tract No. 90 ' had created a universal excitement among all in any way interested in theological controversy. He writes to Mr. Senior on the subject : — 'Dublin: April 2, 18il. ' My dear Senior, — The Bishop of Norwich has sent me a very able and well-written pamphlet by Prebendary Wodehouse, on Subscription, and in favour of Church Government, and he is anxious to have it reviewed. I should think, in conjunction with the Bishop of N.'s own speech and the " appeal," an article might be made on it, which would be very interesting at this time, when all Oxford is in a ferment about Tract No. 90. He suggested to me to apply to you thereupon. If you think there is any hope of getting an article from yourself, or from any one you know, inserted in any review, perhaps you had better see the bishop about it. Just at this crisis a good hard thrust might thoroughly overthrow the party. . . ' Ever yours, ' E. Whatelt.' The next letter is in answer to a request for an article, probably on the same subject. He was still engaged in superintending translations of the ' Evidences ' in different languages. He lived to see it in twelve or fourteen. •April 10, 1841. ' My dear Senior, — I could not trust 's directions, but I will try to get an article by a better hand, if you think you can make interest to get it inserted. I shall try Hinds first, and some others if he refuses. It is curious that the very day after yours arrived, I received a letter from a clergyman at Pisa, suggesting an Italian version of 214 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1841 the " Evidences," for which he thinks he can give circula- tion. It is provoking that there should be a demand and a supply, and yet they cannot be brought to meet. ' I do not know to what extent Government have inter- fered in respect of poor-law offices here, but I suppose neither Ministers nor commissioners could refuse to favour in the appointments those who took a prominent part in the contest about the Bill. ' It is one of the evils of any measm'e (supposing it ever so good in itself) that is carried by such means as that was, that you in great measure preclude yom'self from employing creditable instruments. If the truest religion is propagated by force, reprobate dragoons and their com- panions must be your missionaries ; if you smuggle in the best commodities, the dealers will be reprobate sailors and ruffians, &c.' To the Provost of Oriel ' April 6, 1S41. ' My dear Hawkins, — Mrs. AV.'s progress towards re- covery— if ever she is to recover completely — is almost imperceptibly slow. . . . Her health has of course suffered greatly, though not more than was to be expected. I am quite broken down too, partly by this prostrating influenza, from which I had been exempt for forty years. . . . I have also had a change of secretary (which is like having to make a left hand do instead of a right) just at the time of an unprecedented heap of business. . . . The consequence of all which is, that I have not to this day been able to read through your Bampton Lectiu:es, nor, as you may guess, any other book since they came out. I have only looked at portions here and there. When I was at Eugby in the autumn I saw Arnold's copy, with numerous notes of his. I mention this, because if the work were mine, I should beg him for the loan of his copy. I do not concur with him on several points ; but I always think it worth while to hear the opinions of a man of his learning and intelligence, espe- yET. 54] VISITS EMS WITH HIS FAMILY.. cially because he never shrinks through envy from giving praise where he thinks it due — never seeks to pick holes for the sake of displaying ingenuity — and, though I think him occasionally very rash, never seeks to bolster up what he is conscious is indefensible from its being part of a system that he wishes to defend. And, I may add, that he never takes offence, as far as I know, at anyone's not adopting his views.' It was in this year that he had an interview with Dr. Pusey, at Brighton, which, as it has been grossly misre- presented, and stated as having taken place under different circumstances and at a much earlier period, may need to be explained here. They met as old college associates, on the most friendly terms. Dr. Pusey, in the course of the interview, asked the Archbishop's permission to preach in his diocese. The Archbishop told him, candidly, he dreaded his introducing novelties. ' Not novelties,' replied the other. ' Well, if you will, antiquities,' said the Archbishop. Dr. Pusey requested him to name some examples of these 'anti- quated novelties,' and he instanced the practice lately in- troduced of mixing water with wine at the communion. Dr. Pusey excused the practice by observing that at the early communion complaints had been made that the wine affected the heads of the communicants ! The Arch- bishop exclaimed, 'Oh! Pusey, you cannot be serious;' and at last he added, in his own account of the conversa- tion, ' I fairly made him laugh.' It was about this time that the news reached the Arch- bishop of the death of his friend Mr. B. White, an event which could not be unexpected to those who knew how long and severe had been his bodily sufferings for years. In the summer, Mrs. Whately being sufficiently re- covered to travel, the family removed iirst to Brighton, and then to Ems, whose waters had been prescribed for some of the party. The narrow and confined, though picturesque, valley of the Lahn had, however, an unfa- 216 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP TVHATELY. [1841 vourable effect on the Archbishop's health, and at the end of a fortnight he returned to England, leaving his family to follow w]ien the 'cure' was completed. The following letter to Dr. West (now his chaplain in Bishop Dickinson's stead) describes his impressions of Ems : — To Dr. West 'Nassau: July 21, 1841. ' My dear "West, — I send you a view of our " happy valley." It is very pretty — I dare say as much so as Easselas's ; and I would, if I had enough bodily energy left, dig a hole in the mountain, like him, rather than live in a valley. I do not think, however, that I have as yet suffered quite so much as I have in others. Mr. and Mrs. Henry Taylor are here, as agreeable as I had expected. She is beautiful, and very pleasing. He has read the " Bishop," and thinks it very clever, but not agreeable in style. He says Bishop Stanley was much taken with it, and had been enquiring of all the bishops to find out the author. Senior also has read it, and with approbation. The chief censure I have heard pronounced on it is, that if a man does not know better than to need such advice, he must be incapable of profiting by it. Xow, as the same may be said of nearly all the advice that ever has or will be given — e.g., all sermons, charges, &c. (includrag Paul's to Timothy ; for one might say, could Timothy want to be told that a bishop ought not to be a brawling drunkard ?) — this is a matter for serious consideration ; not least for me and my brother of Meath. Shall we spare ourselves (I this year, and he next) the trouble of writing charges ? If not, pray turn in your mind (and in his) what I shall say, as the time draws near. The company mostly go and return to chm'ch and everywhere else on donkeys, which are in vogue for all ranks and sexes. There was mounted on another ass. It is the Queen of Greece (not Eussia) that is here. There are multitudes here of huge orange-coloured slugs; shall I bring over some to fill sinecure places in Ireland ? The papers speak of Lord ^T. 54] COXSULTATIONS ABOUT AX INDEX. 217 Lansdowne as detained by illness at Liege. On Sunday, Cox came over to consult about the index. He has a great part, but not the whole, of Mr. Croly's ; he is willing to enter into direct communication with him, and thinks he can make such additions (having read all the tracts as they came out, and also the other works of the authors) that they, two together, will produce a valuable work. His direction is Godesberg, near Bonn, Rhine. You may communicate with him on Croly's behalf. Croly need not be ashamed of using his aid, for he is a very intelligent man, and quite up to the subject, having been all along on the spot.' 218 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1842 CHAPTEE VIII. 1842-1847. Deaths of Dr. Arnold and Dr. Dickinson — Publication of Dr. Arnold's Sermons, &c. — Appointment of Dr. Hinds to living of Castleknock — Visits Dr. A.'s family— Anecdotes of the Archhishop — 'Life of Blanco White' — Attends the Parliamentary Session — Letters to Eev. A. P. Stanley and Mrs. Arnold relating to Dr. Arnold's Works — Letter to Lady Osborne — Triennial Visitations of the Archbishop — Conversation with his Clergy on. the importance of studying the Irish Language — Spiritualism — Letter on Animal Magnetism — ^Tribute to Bishop Copleston — Letter to same — Anecdote of Mrs. Whately : the poor sick woman and her cleanliness — The tour to Switzerland — Eeminiscences of the visit by Mr. Arnold — Anecdotes of the Archbishop — Distress in Ireland — The Archbishop's munificence — His measures for relief — Attends the Session of 1847 — Letter to Mr. Senior on the distress — Bill for Out-Door Eelief in Ireland — Letter to Mrs. Arnold — Letter on Translation of the Works of George Sand — Formation of the Statistical Society — Interest taken by the Archbishop in the Society. The year 1842 was to be a year marked by very deep and peculiar trial to the Archbishop — trial felt by him both as a philanthropist and public-spirited man, anxious that lives he believed useful to the State should be pre- served ; and as a private individual, from the remarkable warmth and steadiness of his friendships. Several whom he valued were this year withdrawn ; but two especially and pre-eminently dear to him, whose loss could never be in this world replaced, were removed in the course of one short month. On the 12th of June of that year Dr. Arnold's sudden decease took place, followed early in July by that of Bishop Dickinson, so long his faithful and de- voted helper* in all his work, and then his valued and trusted colleague and ally on the bench. His mind was more deeply dejfressed by these bereave- .Et. 55] DEATH OF ARNOLD AXD DICKIXSOX. 219 ments than it had been at any previous period of his life ; and though he continued the active discharge of his duties with characteristic resolution and perseverance, it was with a saddened heart and a continual struggle for calm sub- mission to the will of an all-wise Grod. The letters that follow show in what spirit he met these losses. He announces them himself to three of his friends ; and then proceeds to consult with the Bishop of Norwich, and with Mrs. Arnold, on the subject of the publication of the letters and posthumous sermons of Dr. Arnold. 'Dublin: July 15, 1842. ' My dear Hampden, — You will not wonder at my not having immediately returned your letter, considering what two stunning blows I have just received. It is a sore trial to one's faith to see such men cut off in such a career of public service. ' But God needs not our help. May He be pleased to raise up other instruments, as purely devoted to His will and to man's good ! More so I cannot conceive in a mortal. ' E. WlIATELT.' To . 'July 1842. ' My dear Friend, — You had better hear from me what you cannot fail to hear, of the second heavy loss which I have sustained in one short month. Bishop Dickinson died at 12 o'clock this day. I feel hardly more than half alive. He had been for ten years my true " yoke-fellow ; " always associated with me in every duty and plan for the public good. How mysterious are the ways of Provi- dence ! ' But God needs not our services. If it were His will He could send some apostle, endued with miraculous power, who would effect more in a month than any of us can in a life. ' It is a blessing, and in some degree a lasting one, when 220 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1842 men of high intellectual powers are sincere Christians ; it tends to destroy the association so apt to be formed be- tween religion and silly superstition, or at least feeble miderstanding. And of all tlie highly-gifted men I have ever known, the two I have so lately been bereft of were the very best Christians. I mean that they were not merely eminently good men, but men who made it their constant business to bring their religion into their daily life and character. ' The two had some different opinions from each other ; but they were strikingly alike in making the Christian character — the Gospel spirit embodied in the life — their great study. " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see G-od," and when they meet, in His presence, they will- know perfectly — and not care at all — which was the nearest to the truth in his opinions here on earth. ' Pray for me, dear friend, that I may be able to bear up against the rough blasts of opposition which I have to .encounter, when such props are taken from me I ' The end of this year, so full of trial, brought him some cheering influence in the appointment of his friend Dr. Hinds, who had accepted the living of Castleknock, near Dublin. The prospect of having tliis valued companion of his early days again near him was the most consoling one of which his circumstances now admitted. In the December of this year he paid a visit — to him deeply affecting — to the bereaved family of his beloved friend Dr. Arnold, in their home at Fox How in West- moreland. In the letters written by them at this time are several notices of this visit, so highly prized by them, which give so lively a picture of his habits in social and domestic intercourse, that we will quote one or two : — ' Have I ever described to you the Archbishop's manner when he was here ? It was really very affecting, and con- tinually, without one word of profession, showed forth his love for his friend and his mingled compassion and affec- tion for that friend's wife and children. Even what might be called the natural roughness of his character seemed .Et. 55] VISITS DR. ARNOLD 's FAMILY. 221 softened and harmonised ; and it was very striking to see him wandering about here — looking at the flowers and talking with the gardener, with the younger ones playing about him, just as he did at Eugby.' ' After luncheon,' writes another of the family, ' we went up to Loughrigg with the Archbishop, and a most delightful walk we had. As we came back we overtook a little girl about six years old, who has daily to carry a heavy can of milk a distance of two miles. The poor little thing was quite frightened at having to go so far in the dark. The Archbishop was shocked at her having to carry such a load, so some of us took her can, and he carried her himself to Fox How, whence the rest of us walked home with her.' In the following year (1843), we find my father receiv- ing and answering frequent letters of consultation on the subject of memorials, epitaphs, and biographies of Dr. Arnold, whose loss was still fresh in the minds and hearts of all who had the privilege of knowing him. To the Provost of Oriel. 'Dublin : April 22, 1843. ' My dear Hawkins, — I am inclined to think there is another cause which has greatly led to the double doctrine, as well as to many after evils : the tendency whicli, under the garb of piety, is most emphatically impiety, in mere men, to imitate God or His Prophets and Apostles, in those very points in which the imitation of them should be the most carefully guarded against. Hence, some " teach with authority, and not as the Scribes," because, forsooth, this is what Jesus did ; hence some profess to disdain the aid of human learning, &c., because Paul " came with demonstration of the Spirit and with power ; " some eulogise faiths viz., in their luord, because faith (in God's declarations) is commended in Scripture, and hence, since God withheld the Gospel from certain generations and nations of men, we, forsooth, are to judge who are worthy to receive, and from whom we shall " keep back 222 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1843 all the council of God." It is strange, though so true, that men should be deceived by so gross a fallacy, which would make an arch-rebel and his followers imitations of a le- gitimate king and his loyal subjects. ' Ever yours truly, 'Ed. Whatelt.' It was about this time that the ' Life of Blanco White ' (who, as has been mentioned, died in 1841) was published. The Archbishop, in common with all the early friends of tliis afflicted man, had greatly deprecated the publication of this memoir, which, under the circumstances, could scarcely be done fairly. They, therefore, almost all re- fused to contribute any letters or papers to the biography in question. The following letter from the Archbishop is on this subject : — 'April 26, 1843. ' Dear Sir,— The " Life of Blanco White " I have looked into just enough to see that it is pretty much what I might have expected, considering who the editor is ; for he is the very person who wrote, as I am credibly informed, a short memoir of B. White in some Unitarian periodical soon after his death, and which I happened to get a sight of a year or two after. ' In that he represents B. W. as banished by his friends, and left to pass the remainder of his days in poverty and solitude ; the fact being — 1st. That he left my house en- tirely at his own desire. 2nd. That he received a pension from me, and another from another friend. And 3rd. That I and my family, and several other of his former friends, kept up a correspondence with him, and visited him whenever we passed through Liverpool. ' Xow from a person who, with the knowledge of these facts, could deliberately set himself to produce in the mind of the public an opposite impression (as anyone may see by looking at that first memoir I have alluded to), no great amount of delicacy or scrupulosity could be ex- pected .Ex. 56] 'LIFE OP BLAXCO WHITE.' 223 ' Tliat the present publication surpasses the average (of publications of this kind) in bringing before the public what is most emphatically private, — in the indecent ex- posure of the private memoranda of an invalid in a diseased state of mind, — this will be evident to everyone who gives but the slightest glance at the book. ' I know publications of this character are a sort of nuisance for which there is no I'emedy. I am only solici- tous to clear my own character, and also that of poor Jilanco White himself, from the imputation of any re- sponsibility on his own account. ' I myself, as I have already informed you, was applied to, to furnisli letters, &c. from and to the deceased ; and I declined, stating as one decisive reason that I knew him to be in an unsound state of mind for several years ; and that I could clearly establish this, both by documents my possession and by the testimony of several compete I'n persons, including two of his medical attendants, unknown to eacli other ; so that no memoir not adverting to this fact (which, of course, I did not wish to proclaim) could be correct, or could fail to convey positively erroneous im- pressions. I am, therefore, no party to the publication ; nor, on account of his state of mind, can I consider Blanco White as being so, whatever he may in that morbid state have said, written, or done. . . . And this it is right sliould be made known to any who may feel an interest in the subject. ' Yours faithfully, ' Kd. Dublin.' The Archbishop w^as this year again in London for the session. While there, Mr. Stanley consulted him on the publication of a letter of Dr. Arnold's on Irish affairs. To the Rev. A. P. Stanley, •London : May 3, 1843. ' My dear Sir, — INIany thanks for what you have done for Edward, which is perfectly satisfactory. It would be 224 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [184,-i strange indeed for me to object to a tutor for having been in the second class. I was elected at once against two first-class men ; and I remember once we had eight can- didates for two vacancies, and the men we elected were the only two that were not first-class ; and this, not from any contempt of the school examinations, for we were not even aware of the fact till after the election. ' As general rules — subject, of course, to many excep- tions : 1st. A first-class man is likely to be one who is quicker in learning than a second-class. And 2nd. A slow man is likely to be a better tutor than a ver}^ quick one. ' I myself being more of a hone than of a razor, should at this day be justly placed, at an examination, a class below some other men in point of knowledge, whom I should surpass in the power of imparting it. . . . ' In haste, yours truly, ' Rd. Dublin.' Again, after his return to Ireland, he writes as follows to Mrs. Arnold on the subject of her husband's biography, at that time in preparation : — 'Dublin : Aug. 16. ' My dear Friend, — If you in fact are ultimately the editor, so that you are to have unlimited power — as surely you ought to have — over every MS. before it goes to press, I think it likely that that very circumstance may check those who might otherwise endeavour to show objects through their own coloured glass. ' " A mechant chien, court lien." Let no one deter you from exercising your own judgment in this matter. The responsibility is heavy, but it must be yom-s after all ; since whatever others may do by your permission is vir- tually done by you. ' and , I find, have discovered that Arnold was a most estimable man, and did not really diflfer from them at bottom I ' I dare say the same discoveries will be made of me, after I am dead, and not before. The bees will come and ^T. 56] DR. Arnold's biography. 225 build their combs in the lion's carcase, but not while he lives ! ' I think if this sort of patronage was to be extended to me, Mrs. W. would reject their posthumous honey — or at least I should if in her place — by saying. Why did you not find out his good qualities sooner ? I will tell you why : it is because they wanted the one circumstance which really recommends him to you — his death. Why did you not earlier declare his coincidence, at bottom, with your views ? I will tell you : it is because he was alive to con- tradict you. You are like the savages of the South Sea Islands, who are glad to get hold of the body of a dead enemy, that they may fashion his bones into spear-heads for future combats. " Be content," she would say, " with having misrepresented him while living ; but expect not me to aid you in misrepresenting him when dead. I will not help you in whitening the sepulchres of the prophets whom you have stoned !" ' I would have you receive courteously all contributions of letters, &c., and all various pieces of advice with one general answer (I have three or four " general answers " for different classes of applicants, which my secretaries write in each case that arrives), viz : " that you are obliged, and will take it into consideration." But be you the ulti- mate decider on every word that goes to press. Thank Grod, the decision could not be in better hands ; and at any rate yours must after all be the responsibility.' To the Provost of Oriel, ' Palace : August 29, 1843. ' My dear Hawkins, — The very recipe for defeating any measure is to call for details at once, and then there appears a great majority against each proposal. ' It is the very war-horse of the Romanists against the Reformation, and of the Jews against Christianity. What reform shall we adopt ? Which Christian Church are we to join ? &c. ' In all public meetings where any discussion takes place Q 226 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP TVHATELT. [1843 that is really to the purpose, the matter is always broken up into a succession of resolutions, each advancing one step. ' Yours ever, 'R. ^Yhatelt.' To the Provost of Oriel, 'October 13, 1843. ' My dear Hawkins, — I am sorry to say the best in- formed people think ill of our condition, considering that in the late proclamation, as well as in all pre^'ious steps, the Ministers have been playing into the hands of O'C . The people, it seems, had begun to get weary of meetings and speeches that seemed likely to lead to nothing ; and behold a door is opened for him to drop the cmtain amid high applause." Then the proclamation itself states that " persons were designing to attend the meeting who had made seditious speeches at former meet- ings." " Why, then," it is replied, " did you not arrest these men ?" Then, the Lord Mayor, a steady anti-repealer, is offended at the slight of making no communication to him, nor even sending him a copy of the proclamation. In short, the whole proceeding seems to be like Dr. John- son's mutton at the inn : " It is as bad as bad can be ; it is ill-fed, ill-killed, ill-kept, and ill-cooked." ' Yours ever, 'K. WV To the same. 'December 9, 1843. 'My dear Hawkins, — I suspect you are a sly hand, and keep a list of different friends to consult in various .cases, each, when you know that he will concur with you. ' You must be very sure that I should not consider it as a new test to require that a subscriber should understand (professedly at least) what he subsciHbes in the sense in which he knows that those who accept his subscription must understand it. You will find, however, some who ^T. 56] LETTER TO MR. HAWKINS. 227 will object to you (as you once did to me), that you " in- sinuate that the Tractites do not believe what they pro- fess " ; not that I ever named them, but only said that one could not safely infer, when men avowedly hold the double doctrine, which is the exoteric and which the esoteric, but the truth is there are some whom that cap fits, and they choose to wear it. ' After all, tests, old or new, may be evaded on their principles, for why may not those who explain away the plain sense of the Articles explain away their own inter- pretation of them ? The oath so often taken before me against Popery, in which a man declares the nullity of any dispensation from the Pope, I never hear without contempt and disgust; for why may not the Pope dis- pense with that very declaration ? " 0 learned sage," says Abudah in the Tales of the Grenii to the Alchemist who is simmering over the fire in a crucible his pretended uni-^ versal solvent, " how can that which dissolves all things be contained in an earthen pipkin ? " ' By the bye, I would warn you against over-anxiety to " make assurance double sure ; " ahundans cautela nocet nemini is often a fallacious and dangerous rule. That most of the bishops and all the University authorities have condemned the Tractite interpretations, is a consola- tory confirmation, as far as the opinions of those indi- viduals go (for they are not the Church), of your private judgment. But take c*re not to let people infer that whatever they say has the authority of the Church, or is absolutely binding on you. You are bound, ultimately, to decide according to your individual judgment, however modestly and cautiously you may avail yourself of an- other's help in forming that judgment — how far each man has or has not taken the test proposed to him in the manner you conceive was requisite. The more I hear of the " great services rendered to the Church by the Tracts," and " the obligations we owe them" (in matters of " mint and anise and cummin"), and all this from those who pro- fess greatly to differ from them in many points (viz., all " the weightier matters "), the more I am resolved to take 223 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1843 care not to bring down my morality to a level with that either of the Tractites or their opponents. ' With respect to the Christian ministry, there are two opinions afloat, one of which appears to me to make them a kind of appendage to the Church, the other the Church an appendage to them. E.g.^ a man who has studied an- atomy and other branches of medicine, and has acquired the requisite skill, and obtained due testimonials from competent persons, has an inherent quaJitication to prac- tise medicine ; he may chance to be appointed physician to a certain hospital, and he may chance to be removed from that post, and henceforward has no right to prescribe for the patients in that particular hospital : but he is not the less a physician, and capable of administering to any other individual patient who may choose to consult him. ' On the other hand, one who is appointed mayor or justice of the peace is qualified by virtue of that very ap- pointment and by nothing else, to administer oaths and perform other fimctions of the office ; from which office if he is removed he has no powers beyond those of any other private indixddual. Now, the question is whether there is the inherent or merely the official virtue in the Christian priest ; in other words, whether the priest is properly himself the dispenser of the Sacraments, ^c, or the Church, through him, as its functionary. For the former view I conceive a plain revelation to that efiect is necessary to be shown. The ^^tter, if nothing be said to the contrary, arises naturally out of the very essence of a Christian community. ' The latter is "West's view, and mine ; though we both think, in opposition to the Eomish Chm'ch and some others, that every Church ought to confine the dispensa- tion of the Sacraments to regularly ordained ministers. ' Ever yours truly, ' E. Whatfxt.' Again a notice in the letters from Mrs. Arnold's family at Fox How tells of a visit there. 'You would, I am sure,' says the writer, ' have loved the Archbishop if you JEt. 56] VISIT TO MRS. ARNOLD. 229 had seen his tenderness and kindness to all, and his readi- ness and pleasure in teaching and amusing the whole party. He is such a lover of natural history, that every ramble in the garden gives him matter on which to dwell and impart information.' Another member of the family adds, alluding to a later period, ' His delight in teaching was very great. When the " Easy Lessons in Eeasoning " came out he was at Fox How, and made us all his pupils, including my mother, whom he complimented on her quick-witted answers, and probing our minds, I must say, in a most searching manner.' The following notes, occasioned by Mr. W. Palmer's narrative of events connected with the ' Tracts for the Times ' were found among the Archbishop's papers : — ' Mr. W. Palmer is quite right in recommending charity and courtesy of language, but it should be remem- bered that a most uncharitable and unjustifiable reproach to others may be conveyed by terms not applied to them, but to ourselves. For instance, a person was asked in Italy " whether Christians are tolerated in our country." The Spaniards and Italians limit that name to those of the Church of Eome ; and in like manner the " Unitarians " imply, by assuming that title, that we do not teach the Unity of the Deity. In like manner, when we are told that the Emancipation Act struck horror into all friends of " religion," this implies that those who had all along advocated the measure on religious grounds were in reality men of no religion. This is just as strongly and clearly implied as if the abusive epithet had been directly applied to them. Again, when " Church principles " is constantly applied to designate those who hold such and such opi- nions (perhaps very right ones) on the subject, this is equivalent to telling all who .differ from these that they do not maintain " Church principles," which they (mis- takingly perhaps, but sincerely) profess to do. It is in vain to recommend charity if we do not ourselves set the example of it.' 230 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1844 The following fragment of a letter to Lady Osborne, probably written about this time, is sufficiently charac- teristic : — ' What a delightful thought, that of your residing in Dublin ! And is it getting up a faction for me you are after ? No, I'll have no Whatelyites ! I think I could before now, if I had been so disposed, have raised myself into the leader of a party — that is, induced a certain number of asses to change their panniers. But I have no such ambition. I wish people to believe all the facts which I state on my own knowledge — because I state none which I have not ascertained to be true ; and to listen to the reasons I give for my conclusions— because I never use any arguments which do not appear to me sound. And that is all the conformity I covet. Anyone who tries to imitate me is sure to be unlike me in the important cir- cumstance of being an imitator ; and no one can think as I do who does not think for himself. ' But I must not write any more where I am not re- quired. Little do the Irish landowners know what a sword is now hanging by a hair over their heads, or how anxiously I am toiling, day after day, to keep it from fall- ing ! If the Poor Law Bill should pass in its present form, their estates will not be worth two years' purchase. If they and the public in general were to give me credit for one-half of what I have laboured to do and been ready to suffer for their benefit in various matters, I should have more popularity than would be safe for me. ' I would not say to one of less candour than yourself, for fear of being thought affected or fanatical, that in praying for the success of my efforts for the public good, I never omit to pray that I may meet with as much per- sonal inortification and disrepute as may be needful to wean me from an over-regard for human approbation and popularity.' The year 1 844 opens, as usual, on scenes of active and unremitting labom-, ecclesiastical, political, and literary. ^T. 57] TRIEXA^IAL VISITATIONS. 231 The death of the Archbishop of Cashel had added to the sphere of Dr. Whately's labours ; his province, which had only comprised Leinster, now embracing Munster also. His triennial visitations or journeys round his province were, from this change, extended to fully half the country. These provincial tours, which were never entirely omitted throughout his life till the last year of it, now brought him frequently into Irish-speaking districts ; and he never failed to take this opportunity of urging on the clergy of these districts the importance of the study of the language. Such a conversation as the following would frequently take place : — ' Are any of your parishioners Irish-speaking, Mr. — ?' ' Yes, my Lord, nearly ' (one-half, two-thirds, or as the case might be). ' Do you or your curate understand Irish ? ' ' No, not a word.' ' I am very sorry to hear it,' the Archbishop would reply ; ' how can you fulfil the duties you have undertaken towards parishioners with whom you cannot communi- cate ? ' ' Oh, my Lord,' the answer would be, ' all the Pro- testants speak English.' ' I should think so, indeed ! ' was the Archbishop's reply. ' How could it be otherwise ? How could they be Protestants at all, unless they already knew the only lan- guage in which the Protestant clergy could address them T And then would follow an earnest exhortation to the in- cumbent to endeavour to find somemeansof communicatiug with all who were resident in his parish, either by himself learning the language, or securing the services of assistants who did. And on the next tour, when the same place was visited, a change for the better was usually observed, and increased attention paid to the claims of those who could only be addressed through the medium of the Irish tongue. Thus, the Archbishop was doing continually much to pro- mote the same objects which were carried on in a different manner by the venerable Irish Society, and other instru- mentalities. He was always of opinion that the way really 232 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TTHATELT. [1844 to gain the attention of any people is by addressing them in their mother tongue ; and not, in the jfirst instance, to urge on them the acquisition of a foreigTi language, whose use they cannot appreciate. When once thev know how to read, and acquire a love of books, they will of them- selves be eager to learn a language which can furnish them -with the knowledge they desire ; and in this manner, in proportion as the people are educated, a language possess- ing a current literature will ultimately take the place of one which has none. This may appear a digression, but it illustrateg the characteristic diligence and earnestness with which the Archbishop applied himself to his rapidly increasing labours. *The letter which follows relates to a subject on which (and its allied topics) Dr. AMiately has been charged with credulity. On such a matter it is far better to let the subject of a biography speak for himself. He was inva- riably opposed to the assumption of infallibility, and the dictation of things to be believed, by any human authority. It was his uniform maxim that no one can arrive at truth, in any sense worthy of the name, who does not discard such dictation, and examine for himself. But though apt to be sanguine as to the results of new discoveries in me- dical and similar sciences, it was by no means his habit to be led into extravagance in support of them. As to the modern notion of communications with the invisible world, or what is termed ' spiritualism,' the reader may consult a paper in the recently published ' Extract from his Common-place Book' (p. 381), one of the last wliich he regularly dictated, and which has been published to show what his deliberate opinion on the point was. As an enquirer, he did not venture to reject what seemed to him to have some, though by no means conclusive, evi- dence in its support : as a religious man, he could not but maintain that, if there was any truth in it, it was pre- sumptuous, and, perhaps, within the actual prohibition of Scripture.* ^T. 57] ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 233 Letter to a Friend on the subject of Animal Magnetism, 'October 1844. ' I have been for some time waiting for leisure to write to you, being desirous of asking a question of you as a man curious about philosophical investigations : viz., whether you are thoroughly satisfied, from sufficient enquiry re- specting animal magnetism, that there is nothing at all in it, but that all the phenomena recorded are either fabri- cations and exaggerations, or else may be explained as 1st, imagination ; 2nd, fraud ; or 3rd, accident. ' I say from sufficient enquiry, because it has surely long since been beyond being pooli-poohed out of court as a thing not worth enquiring about. And I have long since been seeking for a satisfactory solution of all that is credibly reported (setting aside flying rumours) on the hypothesis of fancy or chance, or collusive trick. And this, perhaps, you can supply. ' I was a good deal staggered several years ago by Dr. Daubeny telling me, soon after his tour in Grermany, that he had conversed on the subject with great numbers of scientific men there, some of whom reported or admitted great marvels, which others of them utterly derided and reprobated ; but that he had never met with one — advo- cate or opponent — who did not believe that there was something in it ; I mean, something that could not be explained on any of those hypotheses I have alluded to. ' I am not prepared (which seems to be 's idea) to refuse to listen to evidence for what is unaccountable i because there are so many things which I cannot help be- lieving, and which to the vulgar seem not at all wonder- ful, because they are accustomed to them, in which I am totally unable to perceive any connection of cause and effect, and can only witness facts. E.g. take the case of mineral magnetism ; it is very well to talk of a magnetic fluid (and for aught I know there may be a gravitating fluid also) which operates equally through a vacuum, or air, or a table, but this is all mere guess. All we know 234 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TVHATELT. [1844 is, that some kinds, and not others, of iron ore have a property which they can impart by contact to iron, which will or will not retain that property, according to certain laws, and may be deprived of it again or not according to certain other laws ; which laws have been practically ascertained, after ages of investigation. But if a mineral magnet were now for the first time discovered, and its phenomena recorded, how many would at once reject the whole as an idle tale I As for all religious considerations, tliey appear to me to offer no ground of contrast or com- parison of any kind wdth the alleged phenomena of mineral magnetism, any more than if there were a question as to the comparative value of steam and some other motive power, and some one were to contrast these with Christian motives : or should tell me, if there was a question about the illuminating power of gas, or some other proposed substitute — of the light of the Gospel. ' The only point of contact between religion and these alleged phenomena is, that there has been an attempt made by some to explain the Scripture miracles by physical agency ; and again by others, to represent these pheno- mena as Satanic agency. The like takes place, and ever will, on the announcement of every new set of facts or fictions. Astronomy, geology, physiology (by Mr. Law- rence), Greek-criticism — in short, everything, is taken up by the adversaries of Christianity as a weapon of ofience, and dreaded by its weak advocates. Probably just such people as and , if they had lived in Italy some ages back, would have exhorted all people not to look through Galileo's telescope, or listen to what he said ; and so of the rest. But a person possessing real faith will be fully convinced that whatever suppressed physical fact seems to militate against his religion will be proved, by physical investig-atiou, either to be unreal, or else recon- cileable with his religion. If I were to found a Church, one of my articles would be, that it is not allowable to bring forward Scripture, or any religious considerations at all, to prove or disprove any physical theory, or any but religious and moral conclusions. ' Then, as for danger, I cannot conceive how anyone ^T. 57] ON ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 235 can apprehend more danger from doubt, enquiry, inves- tigation, and consequent knowledge, than from adopting a conclusion at once without enquiry and in utter ignorance. When opium was first heard of (I know not when, but there must have been such a time) the accounts of its effects must have appeared excessively strange, and (which they still are, though people overlook them) quite unac- countable. Now anyone who should, then, have suspected that they might be true, and that if so it must be a power- ful, and, of course, a very dangerous agent, would not surely have been in more danger than one who should at once have pronounced it impossible that any drug could produce such effects. There are some few cases, it is supposed, in which that strange agent, the nitrous-oxyde gas, might produce very bad effects. Now, which would be in the less danger, one who should be inclined to believe in its effects, or one who should agree with Dr. Buckland, who stoutly maintains (or at least did) that it is perfectly inert, and that all we hear of its effects is pure fiction or fancy ? My conclusion is, therefore, that animal magnetism is de- cidedly worthy of enquiry, and the delusion, if it be such, of exposure. And this if you can furnish you will deserve well of mankind. No one is bound (I should observe) to prove actual fraud or delusion in each individual case, only to show its possibility. And on the other hand, the clearest proof of imposition in any number of cases, if there are others to which that solution will not apply, proves nothing in respect of these latter. Hume's chief argument against miracles universally is, that there are plenty of sham ones : he might as well have argued from the numbers of forged bank notes that there are none genuine. I wish to adopt finally the conclusions that shall imply the least cre- dulity. But when will people be brought to understand that credulity and incredulity are the same ? ' To the Provost of OHel, 'April 29, 1845. ' My dear Hawkins, — What you say about Maynooth would be very applicable in the case of Protestants giving 236 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1845 their own money. But the actual case is far stronger. The Eoman Catholics are a portion of the nation, and the money they contribute in taxes has no ill odour to us. The Legislature is right in assigning (not giving) a portion of the national funds for the education of their clergy and people, unless, indeed, it be laid down that whatever class of persons can muster a majority are to legislate wholly for the benefit of their own class, and not for all. I have hopes, from all I hear from various quarters, that E passed not discreditably. What an interesting thing that M. Arnold should have been elected just thirty years after his father ! Would that the college were now more like what it was then ! Do you endeavour, and with what suc- cess, to catch the new-elected fellows ? Before a man has been thoroughly drawn into the vortex of a party he may often be brought to some good by a little timely favour, which would be utterly lost at a later period. ' Yours ever, ' K. Whately.' The following tribute to his former tutor and old friend, Bishop Copleston, is too interesting to be omitted ; it ac- companied a copy of some publication, sent him in the following year — 1845. 'Dublin: July 7, 1845. ' My dear Lord, — I am boimd to send, and you to re- ceive, as a kind of lord of the soil, every production of my pen, as a token of acknowledgment that from you I have derived the main principles on which I have acted and speculated through life. ' Not that I have adopted anything from you, implicitly and on authority, but from conviction produced by the reasons you adduced. This, however, rather increases the obligation; since you furnished me not only with the theorems but the demonstrations : not only the fruits but the trees that bore them. ' It cannot, indeed, be proved that I should not have embraced the very same principles if I had never known ^T. 58] TEIBUTE TO BISHOP COPLESTOX. 237 you ; and, in like manner, no one can prove that the battle of Waterloo would not have been fought and won, if the Duke of Wellington had been killed the day before : but still, the fact remains that the duke did actually gain that battle. And it is no less a fact that my principles actually were learnt from you. ' When it happens that we completely concur as to the application of any principle, it is so much the more agree- able ; but in all cases the law remains in force, that " what- soever a man soweth, that also shall he reap : " and the credit or the discredit of having myself to reckon among your works, must in justice appertain to you. ' Believe me to be, at the end of forty years, ' Your grateful and affectionate friend and pupil, ' Rd. Dublin.' The following extract bears the same date, and seems to have been sent to Mr. Senior in the course of this year : ' Mrs. Whately, in going through the village of Stillor- gan from time to time to look after the poor, always urges them to the practice of neatness as far as their poverty will admit, though often with no great success. ' One poor woman who is infirm and sickly, and only able to do about a month's work in the year, was found, when Mrs. Whately called the other day, to have got some neighbour to whitewash the walls of her cabin, and she had hung up some prints which some one had given her, swept her floor, and cleaned all her little articles of furniture, mended all rents in her poor garments, and kept her person and house very neat. She was congratu- lated on this ; but it appeared she had lost her allowance of food by it. The relieving officer, on stepping into her cabin, observed, " Oh, you seem to be very comfortable here ! " and thereupon her allowance was stopped ! Several of her neighbours, not at all poorer, but living in a state of swinish filth and disorder, had their allowance con- tinued 1 Thus, among many other great evils, the out- door relief system is made to operate as a direct bounty on squalid carelessness and brutish habits, and as a 238 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELT. [1846 penalty on civilisation and efforts after cleanliness and decency. ' You may perhaps find means to commimicate this specimen case to those to whom it may be usefully in- structive.' In the year following (1846), the Archbishop again visited the Continent with his family, and spent a short time among the beautiful scenery of the Saxon Switzerland. ^Ve have a few reminiscences of this jom*Dey, from a son of Dr. Arnold, who accompanied the Archbishop and his family on this tour. ' The Archbishop,* he writes, ' travelled on the Continent in 1846. I was of the party, and in my jomiial I find a record of a curious circumstance which occurred in Bavaria. We were travelling post from Prague to Eatisbon. On the night of the 30th July, we slept at Waldmiinchen ; and in order to avoid delay at the post houses the next day, notice was sent along the road that evening that our party was coming on, and would require so many horses. It seems that the approach of a bishop became generally known ; for the next day, as the Archbishop's carriage passed, nearly all the people at work in the fields by the road side, as soon as they caught sight of the three-cornered hat, left off working and went do^u on their knees, doubt- less in the hope of receiving an episcopal benediction. At the little town of Eotz, as the Ai-chbishop was standing in the street, while the horses were being changed, a wretched-looking man came up, threw himself on his knees in the mud before him, and with clasped hands and in supplicating accents began to mumble forth entreaties which our imperfect knowledge of German did not permit us to understand. The Archbishop looked at him askance, and with curious eye, as if he were some remarkable natural phenomenon, and then abruptly turned away. The peasantry in this part of Bavaria seemed to be, at that time, at any rate, a squalid, miserable, abject race, and evidently to their simple minds a bishop was a bishop. ' At Schandau, in the Saxon Switzerland, Edward and I Mt. 59] TOUR TO S.^XOXY. 239 had a g'ood day's fishing in the little river that runs through that charming valley. Towards evening the Arch- bishop joined us, and after looking on for a little while, took Edward's rod out of his hand, and after a few casts landed a fine grayling, the best fish killed that day. . . . The Archbishop relished with a hearty natural enjoyment all out-of-door sports and amusements, especially if they illustrated any novel principle, or required particular ingenuity in tlie use of them. Thus he delighted in making and using imitations of the Australian " wumerah " or throwing-stick, and also in throwing the " boomerang," a semicircular piece of wood which hits with great force ■when well thrown, and returns to the thrower's hand. ' This recalls to my recollections an incident in his former journey abroad in 1839. At Rapperschwyl, on the lake of Zurich, while the horses were being harnessed, he amused himself by teaching a number of boys at play on the border of the lake, by dumb show (for he spoke no Grerman), to throw the spear in the Australian fashion ; and was highly delighted when he saw how eagerly they entered into the new diversion.' Extract from a Letter to Provost Haivkins, 'Dublin: October 10, 1846. * When at Ratisbon, alias Regensburg, we visited the King's celebrated hall of Valhalla, in which are ranged busts or statues (of very fine workmanship) of all the G-erman worthies, except Luther. There is a book for entry of names and remarks, and one or two had noticed in plain prose the omission of Luther. Had I been a good hand at impromptus I would have entered the remark in a Latin or English epigram. Can any of your Oriel classical wits furnish one ? ' ^ To the Provost of OHeL 'November 9, 1847. ' My dear Hawkins, — I certainly do, as you observe, consider as a great good such institutions as the Manches- ' He made it himself eventually. See the 'Miscellaneous Remains.' 240 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1846 ter Athenseiim and the Edinburgh Philosophical Institu- tion— as likely to make the difference to a large and important portion of my countrymen of intellectual culti- vation and civilisation, instead of gross and narrow-minded semi-barbarism. * In every large town there must be hundreds, often thousands, of persons, most of them young men, who have had but a scanty education previously to their being occu- pied in business, and who, having a few leisure hours in the evenings, wish to devote these to the improvement of their minds. ' Those hours, if not so employed, would probably be spent in many instances in dissipation and vice ; at best, would be wasted. ' It is but little, and that with great difficulty, that a man not in affluent circumstances can do towards his own improvement when acting quite alone, with few books, and no one to guide or even sympathise with his studies. ' Now, in these institutions, at the cost of about six- pence per week, a man gains access to a large library, and to lectures on various subjects of literature and science. Some persons are thus enabled to seek such knowledge as may advance them in their respective branches of busi- ness ; others, such as may enlarge their minds, and guard them against that professional narrowness of mind which I have treated of in the lecture before the Dublin Law Institute, which is reprinted in the last edition of the Rhetoric. After all, it may be said that it is far from a perfect education that is thus obtained. And this might be an objection if it were proposed to substitute it for a better — to make an athenaeum take the place of a good school or University. But, considering that what it is substituted for is nothing, or worse than nothing, such an objection is quite irrelevant. Yet these and all other in- stitutions for the diffusion of knowledge are fiercely opposed by a very considerable party, who lavish alternately abuse and derision on all who promote or favour them. ' I. There are some who, I have no doubt, are sincere believers in the utility of our religion as serving to keep ^T. 60] LETTER TO MR. HAWKINS. 241 the vulgar in order, but who have little or no belief in its truth. These of course can be no friends to knowledge, thought, mental exercise, which they will regard as highly dangerous to men's faith. And yet they cannot avow this feeling openly, which would be to reveal the very secret they are anxious to conceal. ' II. Nearly the same will be the sentiments on this point of those who do believe in- Christianity, but whose faith is founded, as the Tractites express it, not on evi- dence, but on faith! That is, who believe because they are resolved to believe, and think it both unsafe and irre- verent to seek a reason. ' The coincidence practically of these with the former is exhibited in the parallel columns which I have printed in the appendix to the last edition of the Logic." ' III. Some, again, there are of the higher classes (in birth and station) who are jealous of the classes below them treading on their heels by becoming their equals or superiors in the literature and science of which they them- selves perhaps possess no great share. This again is a feeling which no one is very likely to avow. They per- suade as far as they can both others and themselves that what they dread is the unwise, ill-regulated, and indiscri- minate diffusion of knowledge. ' IV. Some well-meaning but illogical minds see the dangers (which are real) attendant on knowledge, and give themselves credit (as is often the case in other mat- ters also) for seeing clearer than the generality, from being one-eyed — from seeing Scylla and not Charybdis. And they do not perceive the consequences to which their principles lead : to cut off everything liable to abuse and misapplication, which lead us back step by step to the condition of savages ; and when we arrived at that we should find a greater abuse of Grod's gifts than in any other form of society. A savage has less power for evil absolutely, but more relatively, than a civilised man. In the art of war, for instance, they are inferior to civilised men ; but they know enough of it to cause ten times more slaughter in proportion among one another than occurs in n 242 LIFE OF AECHBISIIOF WHATELT. [1847 the most bloody wars of civilised men. And though they have little property, and no refined luxury, they are usually more rapacious and more sensual than the civilised. (See pp. 167 and 216 of the " Political Economy.") ' A highly civilised man or people may be very bad, but they may be virtuous men and good Christians. A savage cannot. All these objectors are afraid or ashamed, as I have said, of openly decrying the spread of knowledge, and therefore resort to the stale, but often successful, arti- fice described by Bacon in his Essay on Cunning, of pre- tending to favour the measure they dislike, and " moving it in such sort as to hinder it." They are friends, forsooth, to the advancement and diffusion of knowledge, only it is to be clogged with an impossible condition. Let but all professors of chemistry, geometry, languages, &c., be men of approved orthodoxy — let them be placed under the control of orthodox clergymen — let a few millions be granted by Parliament for the support of these clergy, and let all Dissenters become Conformists, and place themselves under those clergy, and then advance know- ledge as much as you please. This is like the man who offered to drink up the sea if you would but first stop all the rivers that run into it. ' In the meantime, let all institutions for the diffusion of knowledge be opposed and decried. ' And what is the result in a country like ours ? Why, instead of confining (which would be a very good thing if it could be done) the advantages of education to the best men, the system, as far as it succeeds, goes to confine it to the worst. Instead of securing that all lecturers should be friends to religion and morality, it tends to secure their being enemies. Just as the persecutors of Gralileo, if they had so far carried their point as that no Christian had been an astronomer, would have been bound, of course, that no astronomer was a Christian, and would doubtless have pleaded that as a j ustification of their opposition. If you can successfully spread the report that such and such a street is inhabited by no reputable people, the description will soon become a true one. The obviously wise course ^T. GO] LETTER TO MR. HAWKIXS. 243 is for good and pious men to take a part, and tlius gain an influence in institutions which are likely to flourish, and which are not bad in themselves, but are exposed to dangers. ' The people learn to read. They may read bad books, though, more probably, none worse than what they would hear from their boon-companions. But there is this dif- ference— that we can gain access to their studies, though not to their conversation. Let us then write good books suited to their taste and capacities. You then can en- counter the evil on equal terms. Perhaps you had rather not be on equal terms ; you would rather be able to ex- clude all that is bad. But that is not allowed us. And it surely is better to encounter an enemy on equal terms than to leave him undisputed master of the field. But there is no provision for religious instruction combined with scientific or literary. It is true there is not, nor evidently can be, till all men are agreed in religion. But the churches are open, and religious instructors are pro- vided. But suppose they will not go to church ? Why we must leave them to their choice. We have neither the- right nor the power to force them ; nor can we preclude from obtaining secular knowledge those who have neglected what is more important. But we can avoid doing that which is the most likely of all things to give an irreligious character to such institutions — which is the opposition or neglect manifested by religious men. ' But whoever endeavours to encourage, and thus to influence for good, any such institutions must prepare himself for being most fiercely assailed by persons of all those classes I have enumerated. ' He will be regarded wdth that dread which always adds new bitterness to hatred ; and the circumstances of the assailants not daring to avow fully their real objections will naturally make them resort to the foulest slander and misrepresentation — to the grossest abuse and the most scurrilous derision. Never in the lowest radical publica- tions does one see more fierce malignity than in those newspapers and magazines which are written for the class E 2 244 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1847 who call themselves the aristocracy — more properly the oligarchy — in all the articles, prose or verse, which are directed against national schools, mechanics' institutes, athenaeums, &c., and all supporters of what tends to the diffusion of knowledge among the mass of the people. ' And it is remarkable that the dread of this seems to have been increased in such persons as I have been speak- ing of by the events of the French Revolution, though that might have shown to anyone who was not proof-proof that the greatest of all the evils of knowledge and mental cultivation takes place when a very few professing these are able to make tools of a vast mass of totally ignorant men, and become powerful demagogues. The prodigious amount of ignorance of the mass of the French nation imder the old regime, than which nothing can be more easily and fully ascertained, is apt to be completely over- looked. " Bray a fool with a pestle among the wheat in a mortar and his folly will not depart from him ! " ' The year 1847 was one of peculiar trial to all who were living and working for Ireland ; Dr. Whately's attention was now earnestly and painfully occupied by the distress, which was beginning to assume a more alarming form, and which called forth his energies in a new direction. *It was the fate of Dr. Whately, of which these pages have already afforded ample evidence, to have portions of his character and opinions much misunderstood ; and mis- understood partly in consequence of his own overmastering tendency to outspokenness. He could never refrain — he held it an absolute duty not to refrain — from bringing forth his entire opinions on a given subject to its utmost extent ; he w^ould cut off, as it were purposely, all those accommodating qualifications by which persons are in general accustomed to guard unpopular avowals of opinion. In his abhorrence of everything approaching ' reserve ' or ' casuistry ' he would carry these tendencies even beyond reasonable limits, and where he woidd himself, in practice, have admitted modifications of his doctrine, he would have deemed it a surrender to the enemy to allow, in yET. 60] HIS PRIVATE JVIUNIFICENCE. 245 theory, of the possibility of such modifications. In nothing were these peculiarities more conspicuous than in his contest and language on the Poor-Law question, and in relation to charities in general. His condemnation of the English system, such as it had been in his youth, was absolute and uncompromising. His arguments against them extended to the very principle of Poor Law itself, nor would he therefore shrink from urging them. It was not unnatural that so daring an assailant of rooted preju- dices of the beneficent class, should be judged in some degree by his own language, and set down as a man of 'hard-hearted' opinions, if not hard-hearted in conduct. And this may be a justification for a brief allusion to a subject which, in ordinary biographies, is best passed over in silence, as a portion of the great account between man and his Maker, not between the citizen and the world. It may be worth while to show how one who wrote and thought like Dr. Whately practically interpreted his own doctrines on ' charity.' ' Those who knew the Archbishop well,' writes one of his most valued and trusted helpers, ' could not fail to observe in him a strong development of various traits of character not often found combined in such equal propor- tions— large-hearted munificence in affording relief for distress, with careful investigation as to the merits of each case, and soimd judgment and discrimination as to tlie best way of conferring the benefit ; readiness to contribute openly and largely to public institutions for the promotion of religious or charitable objects, with much more exten- sive liberality to private cases of destitution or pressure. These were brought before him by his chaplains separately, or by others, as each individually happened to come to the knowledge of them; and generally the members of his own family, and often all except the immediate dispensers of the bounty, were left in complete ignorance of the matter. When occasion required, he gave largely of his time, attention, and invaluable counsel, as well as of his money, for the alleviation or effectual remedy of distress.' *He has left little or no record of this in showy bequests 246 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1847 and large endowments. He always advocated the wisdom as well as duty of giving as much as can be given while the donor can see it spent according to his wishes, and with the exercise of real liberality and self-denial on his part. Upon this principle he always acted ; and many churches and schools built in his dioceses by help of liberal subscriptions from his pm'se ; many societies either founded or largely supported by him, bear real, though silent, wit- ness to his open-handedness in giving. For more than thirty years he continued to pay lOOl. per anniun to maintain a chair of Political Economy in the University of Dublin; and indeed might have endowed it at less cost to himself; but, acting consistently on his fixed principle, he preferred paying the Professor out of his income. He left behind him no accumulated savings ; the larger part of the pro- vision which he made for his family being effected by life insm-ances, the premiums on which were met by his private means. In all his gifts, moreover, he was accustomed to make strict enquiry into the merits of the case ; ill considered and indiscriminate giving was a thing which he always denounced as one of the most miscliievous uses that can be made of money.* It may not be out of place here, in speaking of the Archbishop's charities, to quote an extract from a friend's notebook, on his objection to the practice of giving alms in the street. ' I have heard him say,' writes his friend, 'that whatever you pay a man to do, that he will do ; if you pay him to work, he will work, and if you pay him to beg, he will beg. Dr. Churchill told my wife that he had heard him say, " I have given away forty thousand pounds since I came to the see, and I thank God I never gave a penny to a beggar in the street." ' Giving to beggars, he often added, is, in fact, paying a niunber of wretched beinos to live in idleness and filth, and to neglect and ill-treat the miserable children whose sufferings form part of their stock in trade.' But contributions to matters of public utility did not JEt. go] DISTRESS IX IRELA^'D. 2-17 constitute the characteristic part of Dr. Whately's benefi- cence. His private charities, compared with the amount of his salary and his absence of fortune, were literally princely. They were for the most part given not on system, but on the spur of the occasion, called forth by peculiar instances of want and peculiar calls for sympathy. Of beneficence like this the records are necessarily few ; some who are alive, and more who are deceased, could testify to the measure and the spirit of their Archbishop's liberality. But of such he kept no nominal record. Many instances have come to my knowledge,' says one of those most intimate with him, ' in which large sums, from 100^. to 1,000^., were given by him quite privately.' His agent says that in his book such entries as ' To a clergy- man, 200L; to a gentleman, 100^.; cash given away, 50^.;' are not uncommon. He often provided poor rectors with the means of paying a curate ; and frequently, through aid timely and delicately given, enabled clergymen whom he saw overworked and underpaid, to recruit their health by holiday and change of scene. Nor were the recipients of his generosity confined to his own profession and to the literary class, with the struggling members of which his sympathies were strong. But more than enough has perhaps been said on a subject only to be slightly touched. It may be added, by way of summary, that being a man of simple tastes and inexpensive life, he accumulated nothing from the income of his Archbishopric, and left to his family nothing beyond his own small fortune and his insm-ances. Nor did he supplement, in their favour, his own narrow means out of the public means. He has been accused, in his distribution of Church patronage, of favouring men of his own ' set,' that is, of his own in- tellectual following; of 'jobbing,' or personal motives, never. The winter of 1847-8 was one of deep and painful anxiety. The Irish famine had reached its height. The failure of the potato crop through the mysterious blight, during a succession of seasons, had come upon a people wholly dependent upon this, the cheapest and simplest 248 LIFE OF ARCnBISHOP WHATELY. [1847 food, as their staff of life. Their normal condition was only just raised above starvation; and when the years of dearth came, nothing but starvation remained for them to sink to. No one who passed the years 1846, 1847, and 1848 in Ireland can ever forget that terrible life and death struggle of a whole nation. How earnestly the Archbishop exerted himself to supply the required aid to the utmost, all who were on the spot must well remember ; and how indefatigably she who was the sharer of his labours lent herself to the same service, taxing her often failing strength to the uttermost, needs not to be recalled to the mind either of those who laboured with her, or of those who were the recipients of her benevolence. She became from that time forth more actively associated than ever in the various organisations formed to promote the welfare, temporal and spiritual, of the distressed, the ignorant, the homeless, and the erring ; and how many important works of charity sprang out of the deep misery of those years of famine, many can now testify with earnest gratitude to Him who thus brought good out of what seemed at first unmixed evil. In the session of 1847, the Archbishop was again in London, actively endeavouring to stem the tide of public feeling, which had taken a turn threatening much evil to Ireland. The English public, from a mixture of benevolence and impatience — pity for the sufferers and hopelessness of any real amelioration of their condition — were eager to bring the whole Poor-law system to bear on Ireland. The state of that country was such as to render the increased pres- sure almost intolerable. There were no resources to meet it. The increased rates, while they could not ade([uately alleviate distress, bore most severely on the classes least able to endure the burden and hardest to help under it — the smaller proprietors and householders, and the clergy. Of the former, many who had been independent were re- duced to actual pauperism by the rates ; the latter had to struggle through an ordeal enough to sink the stoutest spirit. Few to this day have any idea of the suffering yET. GO] HIS MEASUEES FOR RELIEF. 249 endured, and generally most patiently and bravely en- dured, by a large number of the Irish country clergy in those years of famine ; striving in the midst of their own deep poverty to assist the indigent, their own income often rendered scarce more than nominal from the non-payment of their rent-charge, and yet expected to pay the full amount of increased poor-rates. In very many cases they and tlieir families were reduced so low as to be in want of the very necessaries of life. Their condition in this respect having become known to the members of the Ladies' General Kelief Association, in the course of their corre- spondence on the subject of the distress in their respective parishes, the idea was suggested, in the early part of 1 849, of forming a separate Committee for their special relief. Of this movement the Archbishop was, in fact, the origi- nator and patron, commencing the fund by a donation of 100^., on the 21st of April, 1849; and during the three years of the Committee's operations, he continued his un- wearied attendance at its meetings, and his warm sympathy with the cases of deep distress which from time to time came under its notice. ' The united contributions of Mrs. Whately and himself to the fund,' writes the secretary of the Committee, ' exceeded 47 OL; the total amount received and disbursed nearly reached 4,600^.' Dr. Whately's total contributions towards the distress of 1848-9 have been reckoned at 8,000^., but such estimates must be conjectural. The following letter to Mr. Senior is evidently suggested by the distress, though on a different point : — 'My dear S., — What an admirable opportunity the present distress affords of paying the Irish priests ! The starving population would be more than ever grateful for being relieved of the burden. The very poorest are not allowed to enter a chapel without paying something^ though the halfpence which are now a severe tax on those who hardly get a meal a day must afford a wretched subsistence to the priests, and yet the priests must wring from them this miserable pittance. 250 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TTHATELY. [1847 ' But I suppose and would do their best to prevent such a measure, except in the way of taking the funds from the Protestant Establishment ; a plan than which Satan himself could not devise a more effectual one for keeping up and exasperating religious animosities in this trul}^ wetched country. Each successive Grovernment seems ambitious to outstrip its predecessor in the career of follv.' %j In this year the Archbishop was again greatly occupied with the Poor-law. The Government were desirous of in- troducing a Bill for out-door relief in Ireland. This the Archbishop, in conjunction with some few others, among whom Lord Monteagle was the principal, steadily opposed. On the 26th of March, 1847, a debate took place on a motion of Lord Monteagle for a select committee to be held on this subject and other matters. His speech is an important one, and the Archbishop's name appears with those of Lords Eadnor, Monteagle, and Mountcashel, in the signatures to a protest against the measure of out-door relief. The Bill was nevertheless passed, the clause of out-door relief being included in the Poor Eelief Extension Act, which was passed in June 1847. The numbers relieved out of the workhouse, at first very large, diminislied from 800,000, in Julv 1848, to about 2,000 only at the end of 1850. (' Ed. Eev.' vol. 93, p. 246.) 'March 9, 1847. ' jNIy dear ]\Irs. Arnold, — I cannot forbear expressing the high admiration I feel for the justice of your cha- racter. It is what I have long admired in you ; but the recent occurrences have forced it the more on my notice. My wife has told me, of late years, that she used to wonder at my dwelling so much on justice as the highest virtue, but that now she understands and agrees with me. Other virtues depend in some degree on several tendencies, but the proper function of what the phrenologists caU the organ of conscientiousness, is to decide and do what is jEt. go] LETTER TO MRS. ARXOLD. 251 right, simply for that reason. And the formula for calling this organ into play, is that which is furnished us by the highest authority ; — to put oneself in another's place, and consider what we should tliink fair then. This formula would be of no use if we had not the organ, but the organ will often not act aright without the formula ; which, yet, is very seldom thought of in practice. ' A person may sometimes be found having the material, as it were, of not only a good but a great character, of a kind of heroic virtue, who yet, for want of habitually applying that formida in every-day transactions, will not even escape deserved censure. There is a kind of man, who, having fervent aspirations after pre-eminent excel- lence, an entluisiastic and perhaps somewhat romantic longing after distinguished virtue, frames to himself the idea of a life, which is a kind of magnificent epic poem with himself for the hero ; and deigns not to pay suffici- ently sedulous attention to some humbler common duties. He becomes, if he have a good deal of self-confidence, so full of liimself, his higli destinies, his own claims, his own feelings, tliat he somewhat overlooks what is due to the claims and the feelings of others. What is done for him he receives very much as a matter of course ; and when anything is refused him, or any obstacle placed in his path, he is fiercely indignant, as having a great wrong done him. And yet he will never suspect himself of being unjust, because he never designs to be so, but to assign to all their due ; only lie will not estimate fairly what is due to others and to himself; nor does he conceive himself capable, accordingly, of being deficient in gratitude, be- cause he is very grateful to those who honour him, and to whom, perhaps, no gratitude is really due. ' It seems odd to say it, but so it is, that one is prone not only to feel resentment against those whom we must admit, on reflection, to have done us no wrong (a success- ful rival, for instance, or one whose judgment was opposed to ours, and who has proved to be in the right, &c.), but also to feel gratitude to those whose judgment is flattering to us, and has benefited us. When, for instance. Lord 252 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1847 Grey appointed me archbishop, I knew that he could have no partiality — no desire to benefit me, and, for that very reason, I was the more gratified by the honour of his choice, from knowing that, whether mistaken in it or not, he could have no motive but a wish to serve the public, by fixing on the fittest man. I was careful to place before me that I was under no obligation to him, else I might have been more disposed to feel grateful to him than if he had had some private regard for me, and had preferred me partly for that reason. But it requires a vigilant and steady adherence to the principles of strict justice to view things in that light. * Such a kind of character as I have described — the hero of his own epic — is not a common one, but it is one worth reflecting on nevertheless, because it is one of great capabilities. ' Ever yours most truly, ' Ed. Whatelt.' The following letter is on a very different subject. The Archbishop had seen advertised a translation of the works of George Sand, published under the sanction of a clergy- man, to whom, though personally unknown, he addressed this letter : — ' Palaoe, Dublin : October 1847. ' Rev. and dear Sir, — I see advertised a translation of the works of George Sand, patronised by you. ' It is not my practice to interfere in other people's affairs. But by your having dedicated a volume to me, my name lias been in some degree mixed up with 3^oiu-s ; and some persons may naturally suppose that all the pub- lications you put forth or patronise are in some degree sanctioned by me : and it may happen that I may even- tually be under the unpleasant necessity of publicly dis- avowing all connexion with them, or approbation of them. This being the case, I trust you will see the propriety of my adverting to the subject, first, privately. ' I cannot understand how it can be safe or allowable ^T. 60] ON THE WORKS OF GEORGE SAND. 253 to bring siicti works before the public eye. If indeed the English were universally pure and firm in their moral principles, it might perhaps be worth while to publish some portions of works popular in France, by way of warning, as to the low tone of morality there prevalent. ' But I cannot think that we are, universally, in a state to bear such an experiment. I have even known English persons of what is called respectable character, who are little or nothing shocked at the antichristian and profli- gate character of that woman's writings, and who even speak of their tendency to regenerate society and place it on an entirely new footing ! And it is true, a sort of re- generation would take place if people were to act on the principles she recommends. Society would be something like that of Norfolk Island, decorated with a varnish of ranting sentimentality. It would be a kind of ragout of putrid meat, with an attempt to mitigate its fetor by a profuse seasoning of strong spices. ' Such at least is the impression produced on my mind by the little I have read of her works. I cannot boast of being well versed in them. But it is not necessary to wade all through a heap of mud in order to be satisfied of its loathsomeness. 1 read a good part of what was pointed out to me as the least exceptionable, and even commended by some, as exhibiting pure and high morality. ' I must say that the genius for which she is by some celebrated seems to me greatly overrated. Her tales are redeemed from flat silliness only by striking situations brought about by the most unnatural and absurd extrava- gances. This, however, is a question of taste, on which there is no room for disputing ; but what revolted me the most was, that the characters whom she intends to be models of excellence, are such that if all the world were like them it would be a Pandemonium. They lie and cheat from morning till night. 'Now if it be proposed to translate such works, omit- ting the foulest parts, this, I conceive, would be taking away from them their moral. The moral, in fact, is that " a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit ;" — that such and 254 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1847 such are the practical consequences of such and such prin- ciples. If, therefore, there are any such omissions made for decency's sake, at least it ought to be added in a note, that the original contains the description of such conduct as naturally flows from such principles, and which is too bad for publication. Else the principles may be received by incautious youth with too much favour. ' If it be thought right to exhibit for curiosity, at some horticultural show, a plant of deadly nightshade, and to clear it of the berries, lest some of the spectators should incautiously taste them, at least the plant ought to be labelled " poisonous," lest they should imprudently give it a place in their gardens. ' But I cannot think that in any way it can be desirable that such a work should be published — especiaUy under such auspices. A strict regard for the principles of mo- rality and religion, and for delicacy, may be fairly expected at least from clergymen and ladies, if anywhere. " If the salt have lost its savom', wherewith shaU it be seasoned ? " Excuse my saying, therefore, that it would be with me a sufficient reason to preclude a man from officiating in my diocese, that he had taken part in the publication of such immoral works. Over you I do not pretend to have any control ; but for the reason mentioned in the beginning, it may be necessary for me to be able to say that I remon- strated against such a publication. ' Yours, &c., ' Ep. Dublin.' It was in this year that the Statistical Society of Dublin was first founded. The Archbishop cordially supported it, and his address at the conclusion of the first session showed the interest he took in its aims and objects. He concluded the address with an expression of hope that ' they would live to witness the good fruits of their exertions in the diffusion of sounder notions, on one of the most impor- tant, one of the most interesting, and at the present period, one of the most vitally essential subjects on which the human mind in this country could possibly be employed.' I ^T. 60] FORMATION OF THE STATISTICAL SOCIETY. 255 When, three years later (in November 1850), the Social Inquiry Society, now amalgamated with the Statistical, was founded, the Archbishop entered into it with the most lively interest, accepted the presidentship of the society, subscribed munificently to its funds, and delivered the ad- dress at its first social meeting; in which he remarked that the great advantage of such a society was, that they could deliberate on each subject according to its own merits, and through the means of the investigations which they conducted, and the observations made as to the result of them, they might so far affect public opinion as to have ultimately measures ready prepared with all that discus- sion which Parliament could not and would not afford to them, and thus the foundations be laid of such improve- ments in their social condition as they could never expect from any parliament existing in a free country, which would always be open to the disadvantage of party contests for power. 1 256 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1848 CHAPTEE IX. 1848-1851. Marriage of his third Daughter — Letter to Dr. Hinds on Religious Diffi- culties— Family Anxieties of the Archbishop — Illness of his Son — Accom- panies his Family to Nice ; leaves them at Paris— Spends part of the Summer ^vith his Family at Cromer — Miss Anna Gurney — His Friendship •with 3Irs. Hill — Letter to Mrs. Arnold — Extract of a Letter to the Provost of Oriel — Excitement caused by the subject of the Papal Aggres- sion— 'Cautions for the Times' commenced — Answer to Letter of the Bishop of Oxford on the Papal Aggression — His Suggestions for a Uni- versal Coinage — Father Ignatius — His Interview with the Archbishop — Lett^^ to Mrs. Arnold on the State of Ireland — Letter to the same on her Proposal that he should Answer the ' Creed of Cliristendom ' — Attends the Session, but Irregidarly. The letters at the beginning of this period need not much explanation. Constantly engaged in literary undertakings, besides his o^vn pressing avocations, and often referred to by his friends on questions embracing a vast range of sub- jects, political, religious, literary, and practicaHy scientific, it is almost impossible to give anything like a resume of the Archbishop's correspondence. At this time he was suffering much from a sprained ankle, which he feared would produce serious consequences ; but though slow, his recovery was complete. The year 1848 brought an event in the Archbishop's domestic circle, which contributed more than any other to the happiness of his later life, and was a source of ever increasing comfort and blessing to him. This was the marriage of his third daughter with Charles Brent Wale, of Shelford, Cambridgeshire, which took place in Septem- ber of this year. In his son-in law he gained a valued ^T. 61] ox RELIGIOUS DIFFICULTIES. 257 friend, coadjutor, and companion, possessed of qualities of mind and heart of no common order, who was fully capable of appreciating his powers and entering into his pursuits and interests, and whose society and friendship were the solace of his declining years ; whom he prized and valued beyond most of those still left to him upon earth, and whose life of earnest but unpretending Christian usefulness was not long to outlast that of his father-in-law. The Cor- respondence with this valued friend and connexion was very full and frequent through life, when they were apart : but the nature of it was so strictly domestic and private that for the most part it was considered unsuitable for publication. Few other events occurred that are worthy of special record throughout the course of this year and the following, except such as his letters give. ' Dublin : Feast of St. Pancake, 1849. ' My dear Hinds, — I write this to you instead of to because you will perhaps modify or amplify what I say. ' There is a certain morbid state of mind which I sup- pose few thoughtful persons have ever been wholly exempt from throughout the whole of life, except those who with a sanguine temperament have " Hope large and Cautiousness small." I mean a tendency to unreasonable doubts and suspicions, especially on any point whereon we are the most anxious to feel fully assured. This, like any tendency when it goes beyond a certain point, may become monomania. But in a minor degree most people have been, at some time or other, thus haunted. In some, it takes the turn of fancying oneself about to be ruined ; in some, of all men being hostile and conspiring against one ; in some, of ill usage from those dearest to us. There was one of my clergy who was rational ex- cept on one point ; he fancied his wife (whom he doted on) was unfaithful, and was trying to poison him. One patient I remember hearing of, whose own reason and that of his friends never could satisfy him that his person was clean ; and having a great horror of dirt, he was all day washing and scrubbing his unfortunate carcase, till s 258 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1849 he at length caught his death of cold. And some again are haunted with groundless fear for the safety of a be- loved child, whom they will hardly bear out of their sight ; or doctor themselves to death for imaginary diseases, &c. ' Others, again, are haunted with a philosophical scepti- cism, which I regard as only another form of the same disease. They are always labouring to convince them- selves that sleep and waking are two different states, and that the whole of life is not a dream ; that there is an external world ; that there is such a thing as personal identity (Des Cartes, with his " Cogito, ergo sum," was evidently haunted in this way) ; and, not least, to satisfy themselves of the truth of their religion, so as to preclude all possibility for ever of any doubt creeping in. Now, how is this state of mind to be combated ? Direct argu- ments to prove the desired conclusion do not succeed in such a case. At least, they are not alone sufficient prac- tically to exclude doubt. And the worst of it is, that when a man's understanding assures him, more or less certainly, tliat he ought to be fully convinced, and yet his feelings suggest doubts, he is apt to be haunted with a fresh doubt whether this be not a sinful want of faith. ' When I have found myself in this state, the first thing I do is to convince myself that there is such a state. Next, I place myself in a jury box, and resolve to give a verdict according to the evidence, not leaving out of ac- count the authority of competent persons who have pro- nounced such and such evidence good ; just as a juryman does, whether there be a great or a small preponderance of probability. And then, just as the juryman does not try the cause over again, but sentence is pronounced ac- cording to the verdict, I resolve to set about acting ac- cording to the decision I have come to, and withdraw my attention for the present from the question already tried ; always keeping in mind that faith, in the sense in which it is a virtue, does not consist in the strength of the con- viction, but in readiness to act on the conviction ; in being " willing to do the will of God," and hoping to be .Et. 62] OX EELIGIOUS DIFFICULTIES. 259 rewarded by " knowing of the doctrine whether it be of God." ' And I have commonly found that some points of evi- dence come out incidentally when the mind is occupied with collateral enquiries., i'.^r., while I was discussing the corruptions that have been introduced into Christianity, it struck me most forcibly that these would surely have been the original religion if it had been of man's devis- ing, &c. / / ' You must have often observed that the side sight of the eye is the strongest. You get a brighter view of a comet, or some other of the heavenly bodies, when you are looking not outright at it, but at some other star near it. And so it often is with evidence. Discuss some other point allied to the one on which you have been unable to satisfy yourself, and it will often happen that, just as when you are hunting for something you have lost, you find other things which you had lost long before. Some argu- ment will strike you with its full force which had failed to make a due impression when you were occupied ia trying the very question it relates to ; when a certain anxiety to be convinced produced a sort of resistance to evidence. Observe : I have said, " Withdraw your atten- tion for the present from the question " that puzzles you ; for it would be not only unfair, but would tend to keep up an uneasy suspicion in your mind to resolve never from henceforth to debate such and such a question, but put off the discussion to some definite or indefinite time, and turn your mind to some different subject. ' I dare say you have often, like my other pupils, re- ceived that advice, which I always acted on myself, for your studies. When a man has got thoroughly puzzled at some passage in an author, or at a mathematical problem, I have known him sit over it for hours, till he was half distracted, without being any the forwarder ; and when he comes to look at it again a day or two after, having been occupied in the interim with other things, he finds it quite easy. And it is the same when you are trying to recollect some name. I always told my pupils, s2 260 LIFE OF AECHEISHOP WHATELT. [1850 When, after a reasonable time, you cannot make out a difificulty, pass on to something else, and return to the point next day ; " and many a weary hour have I saved them. I have known a gamekeeper act on an analogous plan. When the dogs failed to find a winged bird in a -thicket, he called them off and hunted them elsewhere for half an hour ; on coming back they found the bird at once. He assured me that if he had kept them at that thicket all day, they would never have found the bird. The phenomenon is curious, and I do not profess to ex- plain it. But of the fact and the practical inference I cannot doubt. ' And now I have sent you the medicine, which, if you approve of it, you may administer. . ' Ever yours, ' Ed. Whatelt.' The year 1850 opened with much trial to the subject of this memoir, not only from sickness in his family, but from other causes known and shared only by them. The precarious health of his son obliged him to leave a curacy in England to which he had been recently ordained, and try a winter in a warmer climate. Accom- panied by a sister, he started for Nice in December 1849 ; the Archbishop accompanied his children as far as Paris, but his jom'uey was a hurried one, and early in 1850 he was again at his post. Part of the summer of 1850 was spent at Cromer with his family, where he formed an acquaintance with one whose rare powers of mind rendered her peculiarly ca- pable of entering into his — the late ]Miss Anna Gurney, of North Repps. None who have enjoyed the privilege of her society will readily forget it; and the Archbishop's intercourse with her, brief as it was, was much enjoyed by him, and was kept up by occasional correspondence. Another acquaintance (already alluded to), renewed this year, ripened into a friendship which contributed much to the interest and pleasure of his later years — namely, with the late Mrs. Hill, of Cork, whose high qualities of mind JEt. 63] LETTER TO MRS. ARNOLD. and heart were such as to recommend her peculiarly to the Archbishop. With no one, perhaps, at this period of his life, did he carry on a more intimate and unreserved cor- respondence. She was able to assist in many of his literary labours, and wrote many papers from his suggestions ; and their intercourse by letter was only broken by the illness which ended in her death. * October 6, 1850. ' My dear Mrs. Arnold, — " What in the world can have possessed the Archbishop that he sends us a parcel of haws ? " Now, guess ! Do you give it up ? They are some of the fruit of the red-flowering hawthorn which dear budded with her own fair hands. They are sent, however, not merely to show how well it has flowered, but in case you and she have a mind to try the experiment of sowing them, and trying what will come. I have been trying several such experiments, and should follow them up if I had leisure ; for the subject of Varieties, both of plants and animals, is particularly interesting to me. Among other things, it is connected with the question whether all mankind are of one species. The two extreme opinions are, 1st, that of those who teach that negroes, Europeans, Tartars, Red Indians, &c., are distinct species; and 2nd, that of Lamarck and the " Vestiges of Creation," who hold that men are descended from apes, and those again from cockles and worms ; and between these there are very many shades of opinion. ' I have sown the seeds of the white black-currant, and the white variety of the woody nightshade, and all of them — as many as have flowered — have come true. On the other hand, I have sown berries of the Florence-court yew (which the botanical books speak of as a distinct species), and all that have come up as yet have been common yews. ' One thing that has, till lately, been an obstacle to experiments of this kind, is, that with many trees the seedling must be a good many years old before it flowers^ so as to show what it is ; but this is now got over. If the 262 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1851 young seedling is grafted on a bearing hi-anch of a tree of the same species, it will flower and fruit speedily ; so that there are now many new apples, plums, &c., to be had at the nursery gardens, which were raised from the seed only a very few years ago. I have some hawthorns thus grafted with seedlings from the red-flowered, which I hope will flower next spring. ' Haws usually lie in the groimd a whole year before they come up ; but they (and the same with the hips of roses), if mashed up in water with some meal, or anything else that will ferment, and so left for several weeks, will be so softened that they will, many of them, come up the first spring. ' One day, while waiting for the train at Windermere, on my way from Fox How hither, I was attracted by a very fine wild rose-bush of the deep-red kind, close to the station ; and I pulled up a sucker and brought it home, and (though this was in June !) it was so good as to grow, and i have now two plants of it. ' Did they tell you of our excursion to see the charcoal- works ? It was very interesting. I had known two years before how well plants will grow in peat- charcoal, having tried it ; but I was astonished at the neat contrivance for charring, and they sell it at 35s. per ton ! I have bought a ton, to try it in my new fields. If the thing succeeds as it has promised, it holds out a prospect (barring Poor- laws) of regenerating Ireland, and, by the bye, a good deal of your part of England too.' Extract of a Letter to Provost Haivhins. 'Dublin : August 31, 1851. ' A lady I know was on a public car lately, and said something to the driver about a new church they were passing near — one commonly called after St. , he, as being somewhat Tractite, having adorned it very expen- sively with carved figures of gorgons and hydras and chimaeras dire, in imitation of some old church in Eng- land— at the same time making it not half large enough. jet. G4] the papal aggkession. 263 The cabman defended it with much ingenuitw In the course of conversation she asked him whether he was a Eoman Catholic. No, he said, he was a Puseyite, and he then proceeded to discuss the Gorham question with so much knowledge and intelligence that she expressed her wonder. " Oh," he said, " you don't know how much we read." ' The year 1851 was memorable for the excitement caused by the subject of the 'Papal Aggression.' The Archbishop was anxious to point out to all concerned, that the real danger lay, not in the irritating bravados of the Church of Eome, but in the quiet and secret labours of her emis- saries to win the confidence of individuals, and undermine simple faith in the Scriptures. To open the eyes of the public to this less noticed and latent evil, was the object with which the ' Cautions for the Times ' were commenced ; they were most of them not actually written by the Arch- bishop, but composed under his directions, with his revisal and minute superintendence. The Bishop of Oxford had sent him a copy of the protest made by the clergy of his diocese against the ' Ag- gression.' The Archbishop's answer to this letter was as follows : — Archhishap of Dublin's Answer to Letter {and Protest) of Bishop of Oxford on the Papal Aggression. ' Dublin: Feb. 1, 1851. ' My dear Lord, — I have to acknowledge your favour of January 30, accompanied by a copy of the protest of your clergy against the proceedings of the Pope. ' It w^ould be superfluous for me to express my concur- rence in the denial of the claims and censure of the peculiar doctrines of the Church of Rome, a subject on which I have written and published so much within the last thirty years. ' And as for the present particular occasion, the Ad- dresses to the Archbishop of Canterbury and to the Queen, 264 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1851 from the Irish prelates (which were drawn up chiefly by the Archbishop of Armagh and myself, and signed by all tlie bishops), sufficiently express our views on the most important points. ' Your Lordships will observe that in those documents we earnestly deprecate the introduction of any legislative measures for the protection of the Church in England, exclusively of Ireland, as a violation of the Act of Union, and fraught with danger to both countries. ' That an adherence to this principle will prevent any penal enactments at all is my conviction, for no administra- tion is likely to propose any that shall extend to Ireland. ' A zealous and far-sighted Eomanist would, I conceive, rejoice at any enactments against the Church of Eome for England exclusively. They would afford a pretext for raising the cry of " persecution," without the least risk of their being enforced, like firing at a mob with blank cartridge, which enrages without repelling; and they would give plausibility to his Church's claims in this country, without practically weakening its cause in England. ' In most of the speeches, pamphlets, addresses, &c., that I have seen on the subject, there is a confused blend- ing together of three quite distinct subjects: (1) The claim of the Eomish Church to universal supremacy ; (2) The peculiar doctrines and practices of that Church ; and (3) The appointment of bishops denominated from dis- tricts in England, in place of Vicars- Apostolical. ' The third alone is the novelty. The others are just what they have long been, and yet they are often con- fusedly mixed up with what is said of the third. And all three are, in themselves, quite independent of each other. For — (1) The Church of Rome might conceivably have reformed (and many at the time cherished this hope), at the Council of Trent, a multitude of abuses, and yet might still have retained its claim to be the Universal Church. (2) It is possible to retain most of the peculiar doctrines and practices of the Church of Rome, without acknow- ledging any supremacy of that Church, as was in fact done .Et. G4] THE PAPAL AGGRESSION". 265 by Henry VIII., and is done by the Greek Church. (3) To appoint bishops over particular dioceses is what is in fact done by the Scotch Protestant Episcopal Church, which repudiates both the claims and the doctrines of Eome. ' Some would admit that, supposing the Eomish Church to be pure, and its claims to supremacy well- founded, the step taken by the Pope would have been unobjectionable; and consequently is in itself unobjection- able. Others seem to think it would at any rate have been an infringement of the royal prerogative. And some again seem — I cannot understand how — to hold botli these opinions together- — that the procedure would have been legal, and politically right, but for its connection with theological error. ' In reference to the protest of your Lordship's clergy permit me, with all respect, to suggest a doubt as to one passage of it, where it is declared to be their conviction that the doctrines and practices of the Church of Eome would be condemned by the judgment (could that be obtained) of the " Universal Church." ' The experiment indeed is not one that anyone can expect to see tried ; but each man will be likely to form his own — not unreasonable — conjectures, as to the result of such a trial, if it were made. And I apprehend, the conclusion most would come to on this point would be such that the Eomanists would be but too happy to join issue thereon. ' Strictly speaking, the Universal Church (on earth) must comprise all Christians, and the majority of these have no original and natural right — none except by ex- press compact — to dictate to the minority. The decision of Christian men, like the verdict of a jury, must be that which they all agree in. By law, the decision of the House of Commons is that of the majority of members present; in the House of Lords, of the majority of those present in person or by proxy. But where there is no law laid down on the subject, the decision of fifty-one men in a hundred against forty-nine, ought not to be called the decision of the hundred. 2GG LIFE OP .IRCHBISIIOP T\'nATELy. [1851 ' Now it may be said, " If all Christians disapprove of the Romish doctrine and practice, how comes that Church to exist ? " or if it be assumed — which is an entirely groundless assumption — that the majority are to represent the whole, and to be accounted the Universal Church, it may surely be said, " The Roman Catholics actually are a majority ; and, moreover, those of the Grreek Church would vote in favour of far the greater part of the doctrines and practices of Rome. There would therefore be an over- whelming majority in favour of Romish doctrines and worship." ' It is melancholy to reflect — but so the actual state of the case is — that if we go to decide questions by collecting votes (i.e. by an appeal to human authority) the Protest- ants must be outvoted.' In the midst of these higher and grave interests, the Archbishop was always ready to tm-n his mind to any scheme of practical utility, in whatever department. And at this time he drew up and sent to the managers of the first Grreat Exhibition, the following ' Suggestions for a Universal Coinage,' a plan which had occurred to his mind many years before. Suggestions for a Universal Coinage. ' The most selfish man should, on national grounds, prize any advantage to himself not the less from its being an equal advantage to his neighbour. And so the most narrow-minded patriot ought to seek a benefit to his country not the less from its being an equal benefit to other countries. But long rivalry and hostility have bred such associations that men often regard with indifference or aversion what may benefit their own country if it give no superiority over other nations, but benefits them equally. If the Exhibition of 1851 shall tend to do away such feelings it will have done great service. The advan- tage of a uniform currency for all the world need not be dwelt on. The trouble, and often fraud, occasioned by having to change all one's coins in going from one State jEt. G4] SUGGESTIOXS FOR A UNIVERSAL COINAGE. 267 to another, and the continual fluctuations in the rate of exchange — for instance, between the franc and the sove- reign— are evils which no one is unaware of. The Spanish dollar has in many countries approached somewhat to a common currency, being received freely in many places unconnected with Spain ; on account of its known purity of metal. ' The additional requisites for a current coin that should be nearly universal, would be: 1st. That it should have no indication of Nationality, so as to awaken national jealousies by appearing on the face of it to be anywhere a foreign coin. 2ndly. That it should be as far as possible conveniently measured by the known coins or weights of many countries. 3rdly. That it should have some inscrip- tions intelligible to as many different people as possible. ' Now Troy weight is in very general use throughout the world. And, accordingly, an ounce Troy of silver duly stamped, would be in most places nothing strange ; more- over, it is not very remote from many of the coins or moneys of account of many States. It approaches near to the Engiisli crown, to the Spanish dollar, to the Portu- guese mil-re, to six francs French, and to definite numbers of several other coins. It should be inscribed, not with the name and arms of any state or sovereign, but with its designation as an ounce ; together with the time of its being struck. It should be of a somewhat purer silver than the existing standards ; suppose 34 parts of silver to 2 of copper. ' And both sides might be covered with inscriptions in various languages, denoting the equivalent in the existing moneys of the respective nations — something in this way : — 268 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1851 Of course the most elaborate care should be taken in the execution of the die, and if the State which first issued such a coinage should declare it to be a legal tender (without superseding, however, the non-current coin), and should denounce penalties against impairing or forging such coinage, it is likely that other nations would, one by one, follow the example, to the unspeakable benefit of all the parties concerned. Of course it would be easy to issue at the same time half-ounces or quarter-ounces, one-tenths, and one hundredths. ' If some public-spirited individual concerned in metal- works would try his skill in producing and exhibiting a specimen of such a coin (which might be inferior metal) for exhibition in 1851, he would at any rate gain deserved repute for himself, and might be the means of bringing about a great benefit to all the world.' It was at this time that the Hon. and Eev. Gr. Spencer, who had become a monk in the Eoman Catholic Church under the name of ' Father Ignatius,' was making a kind of progress through the United Kingdom, with the view of exhorting all Christians, of whatever communion, to engage in earnest prayer for unity. He visited Dublin in April 18.51, and held a long conversation with the Arch- bishop, notes of which were taken down by one of his chaplains. Notes of an Intervieiu between the Archbishop of Dublin and the Honourable and Rev. George Spencer {Father Ignatius), at the Pcdace, on Wednesday, April 9, 1851. ' Mr. Spencer called upon the Archbishop at about three o'clock in the afternoon, and was shown into the parlour, where there were present with his Grace his domestic chaplain. Dr. West, two of his examining chaplains, Mr. Mason and Mr. Dixon, and his agent, Mr. Carroll. Mr. Spencer was dressed in the costume of his order, which consists of a loose gown of coarse dark clotli secured round liis waist by a leather belt, and meeting close round his FATHER IGXATIUS. 2G9 throat ; over this was a short cloak of the same material and colour. On the left shoulder of each was a badge, apparently of tin, painted black, of the form of a heart surmounted by a shamrock. On the heart was printed in white letters, " Jesu Christ! Passio," and on the shamrock was a cross. He had a brass crucifix, probably a reli- quary, hanging by a small iron chain from his belt ; and he wore a peculiarly-shaped hat, with a very broad brim turned up at the sides, and a round crown. In stature he is rather below the middle size, his countenance is more of the Celtic than of the Saxon character, and his features resemble on a small scale those of the celebrated O'Con- nell. His voice is feeble and imdecided, and his accent slightly nasal. In manners he is mild and courteous. ' After the usual salutations had been interchanged, the Archbishop remarked to Mr. Spencer that he had called upon a day of the week when he would be always sure of finding him at home and attended by his chaplains, " for," said his Grace, " these gentlemen are all, my chaplains, though they are not, all my chaplains." ' " I see," said Mr. Spencer, taking his seat, " that you have not forgotten your Logic." ' " Talking of Logic," said the Archbishop, " you know, I suppose, that my work on Logic has been prohibited by the Pope?" ' Mr. Spencer professed ignorance of the circumstance. ' " It has, then," said the Archbishop, " and I have been variously congratulated and condoled with by my friends on the occasion. There is nothing in the circumstance, however, to cause me any surprise, except that the Pope should have considered the work of sufiicient importance to be formally prohibited, as I never either intended or professed to exclude from it controverted points. You know, I suppose, that Dr. Cullen has also condemned the book, and has stated that my object in writing it was to corrupt the minds of the Catholic youth ? " 'Mr. Spencer was not aware of the fact. ' The Archbishop then informed him that Dr. Cullen had brought forward the charge in a letter addressed to 270 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1851 his (Dr. Cullen's) clergy in December last. " The work, " however," pursued his Grace, " was written originally for the use of my pupils in Oxford, and was published for the sake of any who, with my name on the title-page, might desire to read it. In books which I write for the use of schools where education is given to children of different religious persuasions, I follow of course a different plan. In these I abstain from all points of controversy ; but in my other works, the only rules I lay down for myself in reference to such points are not to misrepresent the opinions or statements of those who differ from me, and not to speak uncharitably of them. And I wish that Mr. Cahill, of whom you were just speaking," said his Grrace, turning to Mr. Dixon, "would observe the same rules. You have heard, I suppose," continued the Archbishop, addressing his visitor, " that Mr. Cahill has been publish- ing sermons and letters containing the grossest misrepre- sentations of the actions and intentions of the Grovernment and of individuals, and calculated to inflame and exasperate in the highest degree the minds of the ignorant people into whose hands these publications will fall ? " 'Mr. Spencer deprecated imputing to Mr. Cahill the intention of producing the effects which his Grace had anticipated from his pamphlets. ' To this the Archbishop replied, that of course we should be very cautious in imputing a bad motive to any person, where a reasonable doubt could exist as to his intention, but that this was not the case in the present instance ; for the avowed object of Mr. Cahill was to excite the indig- nation of the Irish people against the English Government, and he sought to effect this object by making statements respecting individuals which he must have known to be false. Thus he accused Mr. Drummond of having not only spoken disrespectfully of the Virgin Mary, but having also applied to her epithets applicable only to the most abandoned of the female sex. "Xow," said the Arch- bishop, " though I am very far from desiring to defend Mr. Drummond, though I think his speech a most unfor- tunate one, and though I heartily wished he had been at ^T. G4] FATHER IGIS-ATIUS. 271 the bottom of the Eed Sea when he made it, yet, as they say even a certain black gentleman should receive his due, it must be admitted that Mr. Drummond was not guilty of the charges brought against him by Mr. Cahill." ' Mr. Spencer said that he had read Mr. Drummond's letter, in which that gentleman had, as he conceived, ex- culpated himself by stating that he had not meant to speak disrespectfully of the Blessed Virgin, and that he, Mr. Spencer, felt that credit should be given to Mr. Drummond's statement. ' The Arclibishop replied, that it did not require a know- ledge of the letter to prove that Mr. Cahill's charges were unfounded. No newspaper had reported Mr. Drummond to have used disrespectful language of the Virgin Mary, much less to have applied to her the epithets referred to by Mr. Cahill, although they all condemned or lamented his speech, and described the dissatisfaction excited by several passages of it which they reported, and which were certainly bad enough. ' Mr. Spencer replied, that for his part he must confess, that when he first read Mr. Drummond's speech, he thought he had spoken disrespectfully of the Blessed Virgin. ' " How ? " said the Archbishop ; " the only allusion he made to the Virgin Mary was, to speak in a tone of con- tempt of some relics ascribed to her, and, as he believed, without sufficient evidence. Would you think I spoke disrespectfully of you, if I spoke contemptuously of some letter which I believed and pronounced to be a forgery and falsely ascribed to you ; or would you accuse me of speak- ing disrespectfully of our Lord, if I said that I did not believe the holy coat of Treves to have been His, and that even if I had, I did not think it should be made an object of adoration ? " ' Mr. Spencer did not seem disposed to continue his defence or apology for Mr. Cahill ; he preferred passing on to the object of his visit, which was to make some remarks on a letter he had received from Dr. West, relative to the subjects discussed at a former interview which he had with the Archbishop, and in which he sought to press 272 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELT. [1851 upon his G-race's attention the importance, at the present crisis, of all serious persons making a combined effort for the promotion of Christian imitv. He said that lie fully conciu-red with the opening remarks in this letter on the importance of making truth the first object in all our pursuits, and that he also admitted the justice of the ob- servation made by the Archbishop and repeated by Dr. West, that different persons entertain very different notions of Christian unity : some, for instance, holding that it im- plies submission to a central government and a visible head of the Church, while others believe that it is of a pm-ely spii'itual character. He felt, therefore, the force of the objection, that while persons hold such contradic- tory opinions as to the nature of unity, it is impossible for them to be imited in their piu-snit of it ; but it occurred to him tliat his original proposal might be so modified as to evade this objection. He thought that all might unite in praying that Grod would promote among mankind, by such means as seemed best to His infinite wisdom, unity in the truth as it appeared to Him. ' To this the Archbishop replied that such a petition was equivalent in point of fact to the second clause in Our Lord's Prayer, "Thy kingdom come;" that, moreover, as Mr. Spencer must know very well, we are in the habit of offering up a petition in one of the prayers of our daily service, that all who profess and call themselves Chris- tians may be led into the way of truth, and hold the faith in unity of spirit, in the bond of peace, and in righteous- ness of life," and that we thus show that we are not in- sensible of the importance of that imity in the truth which Mr. Spencer was now advocating, nor negligent in praying for its promotion among mankind. ' ^1t. Spencer admitted that all this was true. He re- membered, moreover, that on one occasion when he waited on the Bishop of London, his Lordship had called his at- tention to a prayer for unity in the service appointed for tlie day of the Queen's accession, which embodied almost all the Scripture phrases relative to the subject. Still he desired that greater prominence should be given to the -Et. G4] interview with FATHER IGNATIUS. 273 topic at the present time, both in our prayers and exhor- tations. He believed it to be one of paramount and vital importance. " When a great people," said Mr. Spencer, " like the English and Irish, are disunited on a subject in which they take such an interest as that of religion, they cannot be united in the pursuit of any political or social object." ' The Archbishop replied that he fully concurred with all Mr. Spencer said as to the desirableness and impor- tance of unity in the truth, and the evils of disunion ; that the only point now at issue between them appeared to be the best mode of attaining to this unity. Mr, Spencer seemed to think it should be sought directly ; he (the Archbishop), on the contrary, thought it should be sought through truth. " For," said the ArchbishojD, " it is obvious that if any number of persons, individually, hold the truth in its integrity, they will all agree and be united in their views of it. The best mode, therefore, of promoting unity in the trutli is to promote the dissemina- tion of truth. Truth is one ; all who hold the truth will be at one. And so, if we desire to promote among chil- dren at school that unity and harmony which result from mutual forbearance, &c., the most effectual way of gaining our object will be to press upon every child individually the duty of exercising those feelings of charity, toleration, and forbearance. Tliis is, in fact, the only practical way of seeking to attain the end we have in view. If we seek to attain it directly by pressing upon the children the im- portance of being united, the evils resulting from disunion, &c., the most turbulent in the school, the most intolerant, and the least forbearing will heartily assent to the justice of our observations, and will immediately proceed to in- culcate and enforce a unity which sliall consist in subjec- tion to themselves ; and thus our attempts to promote unity will end in increasing dissension. No ; the right way is to press upon each individual child the duties of forbearance, toleration, and charity ; and this is, in fact," continued the Archbishop, "the course adopted in the schools in connexion with the National Board. There are nearly five thousand T 274 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1851 of these schools through Ireland, giving instruction to nearly half a million of children ; and in every one of them is hung up a card, containing what are called general rules, the object of which is to inculcate upon the children the duties which I have so often referred to of forbear- ance, &c. The best way then," said the Archbishop, " and in fact, as I have shown, the only way, to promote unity in the truth among men is to impress upon them the duty and the necessity of their individually seeking after truth, and embracing it when found, and of being tolerant, forbearing, and charitable towards all who differ from them in opinion." ' The Archbishop then dwelt upon the importance of cultivating a love of truth for its own sake, and of form- ing such a habit of mind as shall lead its professor to embrace any opinion, however contrary to his prejudices, which he may be honestly convinced is true, and to reject any, no matter how congenial to his tastes or sentiments, or how strongly supported by authority, if it were proved to him to be false. And the Archbishop professed him- self always ready to act by this rule. ' Mr. Spencer seemed startled. He enquired whether his Grace held all his opinions thus loosely ; whether, for instance, he regarded as a doubtful and unsettled point the inspiration of the sacred Scriptures. ' The Archbishop replied that Mr. Spencer appeared to misunderstand him. He did not mean to say that his opinions on such points as he had examined and made up his mind on were wavering or undecided. He meant that having embraced the opinions which he held because he believed them to be true, he was ready to renounce them if they were shown to be false. While he held them he was of course convinced of their truth. He would explain his meaning by an illustration. Mr. Spencer was probably acquainted with the different methods in which type was set up for printing. It was sometimes cast in stereotype plates, sometimes arranged in moveable forms. The latter was just as steady and solid as the former, and possessed this additional advantage, that if .Et. 64] FATHER IGNATIUS. 275 any word or passage was found to be incorrect, it could be altered and corrected : this was impossible in stereo- type plates. In these if an error was detected, there was no means of remedying it. " Xow," said the Archbishop, " r hold my opinion in moveable forms and not in stereo- type." ' He said he would give an example. About five or six years ago he had preached an ordination sermon on the subject of the prevailing tendency in the human mind to desire an infallible guide in religious matters. In this sermon he had dwelt upon the fact that when St. Paul was taking leave of the elders of Ephesus at Miletus, under the impression that he should never see them again, and warned them of the dangers which threatened them and their flocks, he yet never once alluded to the existence of any infallible guide, of any visible head of the Church on earth, St. Peter or St. Peter's successor at Eome, An- tioch, or elsewhere, to whom they should have recourse in their difficulties, and by adherence and obedience to whom they should keep themselves and their people from error. From this the Archbishop had concluded that St. Paul did not know of the existence of any such guide. He could not on any other supposition account for the Apostle's silence on such a subject at such a time. And he felt the more strongly convinced that this view of the matter was correct from the circumstance that, although Dr. O'Connell of Waterford had undertaken to reply to this sermon, yet he left this point, the prominent one in the discourse, unnoticed. " Still," said the Archbishop, " if you, Mr. Spencer, or any member of your Church, can give any satisfactory account of the Apostle's conduct on this memorable occasion consistent with the views of the Church of Eome as to the existence of an infallible and visible head of the Church on earth, I am open to convic- tion ; I am ready to change my opinion on the subject, when it is shown to be erroneous." 'Mr. Spencer, however, was evidently unable to furnish any such explanation. He appeared restless and uneasy from the moment the Archbishop introduced the subject T 2 • 27G LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1851 of infallibility. He rose from his seat, and his good manners alone prevented his leaving the room before his Grrace had finished speaking. As soon as he concluded, howe^'er, he briefly remarked that Dr. West had kindly forwarded him a copy of the sermon to which his G-race had been alluding, and without making any comment upon it, said that having now disposed of the business in reference to which he had taken the liberty of waiting upon the Archbishop, he would beg leave to withdraw.' The following letter to Mrs. Arnold throws more light on the then state of Ireland, and especially of the suffering- clergy. The little book alluded to in it, ' Paddy's Leisure Hours in the Poor-house,' is a tale illustrative of the effects of the Irish famine and Poor-law, written by a friend, and published under his patronage, which at the time excited much interest, from the truthful and vivid manner in which the facts of the case were brought forward. 'Dublin : April 15, 1851. ' My dear Mrs. Arnold, — The second part of Xo. 5 of the " Cautions " I do not send you, as it does more good to have it ordered at a shop ; so I only notify to you, and beg you to make known its being out. But I have ordered for you the new edition of " Paddy's Meditations," with an addition which I think excellent. I trust you will promote the sale of this also, if you can, as any profit from it will go to the starving clergy of Ireland. Our funds for their relief are nearly exhausted ; but their distress is far from being at an end. Several have to pay, out of a small in- come, eight or ten or twelve shillings in the pound for poor-rate, and withal they have not the satisfaction of seeing the poor relieved. The workhouses are crowded with paupers doing nothing, while the fields are lying untilled, from the capital which would have employed labourers having been abused in keeping men idle. The paupers are like Pharaoh's lean kine, who ate up the fat ones, and yet were still as lean as ever. t ]V3;is3 , the friend of Jane's friend, Mrs. , is /Et. G4] LETTEE TO MRS. ARNOLD. 27r much pleased with numbers three and five, but does not like two and four^ — I suspect from the very circumstance tliat makes those the greatest favourites wath most, the familiar illustrations. There are persons of minds so constituted that I am convinced many of our Lord's parables would seem to them (if seen for the first time, and without knowledge of the author) extremely inde- corous. They cannot distinguish between comparing together two things or persons, and comparing the cases or transactions relating to those things ; and thence would suppose it affirmed that Christians are actually like fishes, or fig-trees, or sheep. ' And again, if any fallacy or folly which has been con- nected with religion is ridiculed, they cannot distinguish this from ridicule of the religion itself ; as if they were to deem it an injury to a tree to clear away the lichen and moss and other parasites that had overgrown it. ' And again, there are some whose organ of veneration seems to be concentrated on words instead of thinofs. Such a person is not scandalised at F. Newman's saying, with most decorous gravity, that our Lord was a faulty character ; but when a piece of modern history is narrated in the style of our authorised version of Scripture, for the purpose of showing how open it would be to the kind of cavils with which sacred history has been assailed, this is regarded as horrible profanation I I could not but com- pare this whimsical inconsistency (as it seems to me) to the conduct of the people of Hawaii (Owhyhee), who murdered Captain Cook, and cut his body to pieces, but — regarding him, as it seems they did, as a being of superior order — carried about with them pieces of his bones as a kind of amulets, which they regarded with superstitious veneration. You may show this to K. (I beg pardon, Mrs. Forster), as I know she does not mind my speaking my mind freely.' The ' Creed of Christendom,' by Mr. Grreg, had just appeared ; and many were naturally anxious to see this attack on Christianity answered by an able hand. Mrs. 278 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1851 Arnold wrote to the Archbishop, mentioning- the earnest wish expressed by Mr. Graves, a clergyman in her neigh- bourhood, that he (the Archbishop) should undertake this task himself. The following is his answer : — ♦April 26, 1851. ' My dear Mrs. Arnold, — After reading the enclosed, please forward it. ' I am honoured by Mr. Graves' belief that I am capable of answering Mr. Greg, but I trust he is mistaken in thinking that no one else could, for it does not answer to have many irons in the fire. Men sometimes make the same mistake as to their powers and their time, that many do as to their income. I have known a man who thought, and truly, that he could atford to keep hounds, and that his income would admit of a fine conservatory ; and that he might sit in Parliament ; and that he could keep a house in town, and give fine parties ; but, like many others, he attempted all, and was ruined. In like manner, some are tempted to engage in this and tliat and the other work, from feeling conscious that they could accomplisli any one ; and so they leave them all imfinished, or so ill- done that they had better have been left alone. ' I, in particular, have less work in me than many others, and my only chance of doing anything well is — though I cannot exclude interruptions, yet — to be very careful not to attempt too much. It may seem strange to many that those little volumes of lectures — most of them ready written, as sermons — took me, in merely preparing for the press, about four months' incessant work ; I mean that I never let a single day pass without doing something to them. And the little tract on religious worship, which was almost entirely a compilation, took me, in like manner, six months ! ' I am now engaged with the " Cautions ; " ' that is, in merely giving suggestions from time to time, and revising. If anything in Mr. Greg's book should seem to call for ' The compilation entitled ♦ Cautions for the Times.* JEt. 64] ATTENDS THE SESSIONS. 279 notice in the " Cautions," we will see about it. But if, in addition to all my unavoidable official business, I were to tiu-n aside from the " Cautions," and enter on some new field, the result would be that I should fail in all. It is vain for me to set up for an admirable Crichton." ' The Archbishop was now in Parliament, but not attend- ing very regularly.^ He was residing near London, and much harassed by family anxiety and sickness. ' He spoke, ho^-ever, this year rather more frequently than usual ; on the Bill for removing the disqualification of the Je-n-s, on transportation, and on the projects for the revival of Convocation — as to which he always abode by the opinion, that a regular government for the Church was de- sirable, but a cleri&il convocation most objectionable. Speaking of the assumption that the party calling for its assembly was the most numerous, he told, after his manner, the following story : — ' He was informed once that a violent opposition existed in a particular parish to a proposed altera- tion of a road, at v*-hich he was very much surprised, because the alteration was conducive to public convenience. In order to ascertain the real opinion of the inhabitants of the district, he sent to each house a black bean and a white bean, with directions that those who were opposed to the alterations should return a black bean, and vice versa. The return was twenty-nine black and three himdred white beans. Yet the twenty-nine black beans called themselves "the parish;" and it was hardly necessary to say that they made twice as much noise as the three hundred white beans.' 2S0 LIFE OF .iKCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1852 CHAPTER X. 1852. Visits England — The Family Circle at Ewlesdale — Letter to C. Wale — Letter to Lady Osborne on the ' Sisterhoods' at Plymouth and Devon- port — Letter to Dr. Hinds on Daily Services — Letter to Miss Crabtree — Opening of the Cork Exhibition — Letters to Mrs. Hill — His Interest in Protesrant Missions in Ireland — Remarks of a Friend on the Archbishop's Tie-ws on Controversial Discussion — Extniet from Mr. Senior's Journal. In the early part of 1852 he paid a short visit to England, but the rest of the year, with the exception of his regular ^isitation tours, &c., was spent at Eedesdale, where his daughter and her family were again his guests. During a great part of the seven following years, much of their time was spent under the Archbishop's roof, and this was to him an increasing som'ce of comfort and pleasure. In his son-in-law's society he had the kind of intercourse he most enjoyed and valued ; that of a discerning, right- judging, and intelligent companion entering into all his pursuits, and fully sympathising in the high moral tone of his mind : while his grandchildren, as they grew up around him, were sources of continued pleasure and in- terest. Xatiu-ally fond of children, his delight in these little ones was a prominent feature in his declining life ; his tenderness and atfection for them, and interest in their sports, were such as could hardly have been looked for in one so habitually absorbed in matters of the highest moment. To the children of his son he showed no less constant affection and kindness ; the eldest was for a considerable time an inmate of his family, and treated as an adopted child ; and when, at a later period, these children were all .-Et. G5] LETTER TO C. WALE. 281 permanently established under his roof, his interest in all their pleasures and concern for their enjoyment and com- fort was manifest. To Charles Wale. 'Dublin: Feb. 15, 1852. ' I need not say how fully I concur in what you say about party. It cannot be too often and earnestly urged ; for I find many men, and more women, not wanting in intelligence, and what is more, who have seen and bitterly experienced the evils of party, who are led by that very circumstance to throw themselves into the arms of a party, merely because it is the opposite of that which is the im- mediate object of their dread ; just as if experience of mili- tary oppression should induce some simple people to invite an army to rescue them. " For my part," says a poor woman in the Tales of the Grenii, " I think all soldiers are rebels, for they all plunder us alike." ' It is wonderful and shocking to perceive how those who are calling on men to throw off popish thralcjom will submit, and try to force others to submit, to popes of tlieir own ; and how the disregard of truth, the narrow and un- charitable bigotry, and the bitter persecuting spirit which they loudly censure in Eoman Catholics, they will at the same time approve in their own party.' The following letter to Lady Osborne explains itself.- Much interest was excited at this time by the newly- published disclosures as to the working of the ' Sister- hoods' at Plymouth and Devonport. 'April 19, 1852. ' My dear Lady Osborne, — Have you read Mr. Spurrell's pamphlets, and Miss Campbell's, on Miss Sellon's estab- lishment, and her answer ? They are very curious and important documents. You may be very sure I am fully aware that the High Church party are quite as ready to persecute when they get the upper hand, as the Low Church. Both are men. And iDoth parties are equally 252 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELr. [1852 aware how utterly I am averse to every party. And it is quite true, as you observe, that the one will do everything in the name of the church-formularies, as the other does in that of the Bible. In tmth, however, neither pirty makes either of these the real standard, but their inter- pretation ; which may chance to be very different from Tom*s or mine. The one are ready — even avowedly — ^to understand our formularies in anon-natural sense and the other set down everyone, however well-read in Scrip- ture, " as not knowing the Gospel," who does not adopt their views. And it may be added, that as they adopt virtually the Romish notion of an infallible interpreter of Script lu-e to whom everyone must sub iit his own private judgment, on pain of being set down as heterodox (only substituting their party for the Pope of Rome), so they are equally ready with the Romanists to resort to Tradition when there is no Scripture to their purpose. For they appeal to (an alleged) tradition of the apostles having transferred the commands relative to the Sabbath from the seventh day of the week to the first — a transfer of which certainly Scripture gives no hint, but rather con- tradicts it. Still they have this advantage over the oppo- site party : that they really do encoiuage everyone to study Scripture, bitterly as they re\-ile him if he does not adopt their interpretation of it ; and a man is thus enabled to have a chance, at least, of detecting any errors in the system he may have been taught. The opposite party — as is set forth in one of the " Cautions" — do certainly lead men to neglect, and ultimately avoid, the study of Scrip- ture.' To Bishop Hinds. ' If you have time to look at that little tale I men- tioned ("Early Experiences" — Granted Griffiths, Pater- noster Row ), I should like yoiu* opinion on a short discus- sion in it of daily services in church ; at which discussion some are scandalised. ' The services were no doubt designed by oiu- reformers, who, indeed (most unfortunately), have no special service JEt. 65] OFEXIXG OF THE CORK EXHIBITIOX. 283 for Sundays. But, then, in the days when so few could read, domestic worship and private reading of Scripture could not have been so general as they might be now. ' If there were daily service in church, in those cases only where the minister's other duties would be equally well performed, it would be so far well (I mean as far as regards the minister). But there is surely a great danger that the mere mechanical performance of a duty (by the clergyman), which requires neither learning nor ability, nor sound judgment, nor assiduous care, nor anxious re- sponsibility, should seduce those who are, in mind, indo- lent, to substitute this for labours which call for all those qualifications ; that the mere turning of the handle of a barrel-organ should be found easier though more mono- tonous work, than qualifying oneself for the part of a good musician.' To Miss Crahtree, 'Dublin: June 15, 1852. ' I wish you would try your hand at a little parable for young folks ; I and my assistants are too busy with other things. You have often observed, I dare say, the cabbage- caterpillar (and perhaps others) that had been pierced by the ichneumon-fly. It goes on quite sound and thriving throughout its larva-life, feeding till the time comes at which it should become a pupa, and then a butterfly (psyche, the soul, as the Greeks called it) ; and then the ichneumon grubs come out, and leave an empty skin, having fed merely on the enclosed embryo-butterfly. How many of our fellow-creatures seem to be in an analogous condition ! ' You might throw this into a little dialogue between a parent and child. ^ ' Ever yours truly, ' Ed. Whatelt.' In this year the Cork Exhibition was opened. A course of lectures was delivered in the pavilion of the Exhibition * A dialogue on this subject, though not by the lady addressed, did after- wards appear in the ' Leisure Hour.' LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1852 building, and the Archbishop was requested to deliver the inaugural lecture of the series, on Tuesday, June 29, 1852. The subject of the lecture was 'Popular Education.' and in it he took pains to confute the favourite commonplaces about the danger of ' a little learning.' and to point out the fallacy of the assertion — at that time put forth strongly by the Koman Catholics — that all departments of seculaj: education should be under the direct control of reliorious teachers. The Archbishop had proposed to Mrs. Hill to write an article on the slavery question, or a review of ' Uncle Tom's Cabin,' which had just appeared. She urged him rather to undertake the work himself. 'Sept. 27. 1852. ' My dear ^Irs. Hill. — Every sermon costs me as much time and labour to write as to furnish the matter and subsequent corrections for six or seven. And I have more business to occupy my time and thoughts than you probably suppose. AVhen you see me loimging about the g-arden and pruning a rose-bush, you probably suppose that I am thinking of nothing else ; when, perhaps. I am in fact deliberatino- on some weig:htv matters on which I have to decide. And all the time I can spare from duties which I liave no right to neglect, is absorbed by the " Cautions." You, I dare say, would advise me to drop the " Cautions,'' and turn my mind to other matters. But thouofh this advice mio-ht be riofht in itself, I should be very wrong in following it against my own deliberate judgment. I have undertaken a difficult and painful task, which appears to me of great importance ; and having put my hand to the plougli, I must not look back. Since inspiration has ceased, I do not see what fuller assurance anyone can have, that God wills him to do so and so, than his own judgment resulting from deliberate and prayerful reflection. His decision may not be infallibly right. If he could be sure of that, he would be inspired. But it must be right for him to follow the best guide Providence has vouchsafed him. God made the moon as well as the .Ex. Go] LETTEE TO MES. HILL. 285 sun ; and when He does not see fit to grant us the sun- light, He means us to guide our steps as well as we can by moonlight. ' I dare say you \vill not write the article as well as it conceivably might be done ; but the question is between that and nothing. If by the subject being such as a powerful and practised hand ought to deal with," you mean merely that it deserves that, I agree with you ; but not if you mean that a slight and imperfect notice would be worse than none at aU. ' But you have, in the letter I enclose to you, nearly all ' the materials needed for a very useful article. It only needs hammering out. I send you also an American paper, lent to me, from which I would suggest your ex- tracting the whole of the attack on Mrs. Stowe, as a proof that they are very angry and much alarmed, and have no answer except vituperation. For they cannot and do not attempt to deny that all she relates may take place every day. You might also notice the narrative of a man's crop- ping his slave's ears off, in which it is implied that no amount of flogging would have been censm-ed. Indeed, how could it ? unless every slave had to be brought before a magistrate, who should allot the due amount of punish- ment, and see it inflicted. ' I hope this will find you at home and recovered. ' Very truly yours, ' Ed. Dublin.' At this time the conversions from Eomanism were attracting a large share of public notice in Ireland, and the Archbishop was no uninterested spectator of the struggle. As much misapprehension has existed as to the part he took with respect to Protestant missions in Ireland, it may be needful to add a few words of explanation here. It has often been alleged, and much too hastily assented to, that the Archbisliop was opposed to controversy, espe- cially upon the subject of the distinctive doctrines of Romanism. One who was intimately acquainted with him 2SG LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1852 for many years writes : ' I am not greatly sm'prised that such an impression should have prevailed to a considerable extent. I can recall the time when I was myself influenced by it. I should think it was partly caused by ihe limited sale of his Origin of Eomish Errors," compared with the great popularity of most of his other works, the decided manner in which he openly expressed his disapproval of certain " controversial discussions," which had taken place ; and the frequency with which he was in the habit of quoting the proverb : " Xo sensible person thinks of catchiug birds by throwing stones at them." But that it was not contro- versy per se to which he objected, but only the manner and spirit in which it was often conducted, there is over- whelming evidence to prove. In fact, I cannot help saying that I look upon Ai'chbishop Whately as one of the most decided, extensive, and varied controversialists of the pre- sent century. The work already referred to, " The Origin of Romish Errors," was published before he became Arch- bishop of Dublin. I have often heard him express his regret that he had been persuaded, ag-ainst his own judg- ment at the time, to adopt that title, as it gave an inadequate idea of the desigTi of the book, in which he traces not only Eomish errors, but imsoimd religious doc- trines and practices generally, whether heathen or so-called Christian, to the corrupt tendencies of om* fallen nature. In 1847 he preached as a sermon, and subsequently pub- lished in an enlarged form, his most able and conclusive essay, "The Search after InfallibiHty." In 1852-3 he published "Cautions for the Times," as a check to the Romeward tendency of the higher and intellectual classes ; and about the same time he fm'nished to the " CathoHc Lavman," in a series of articles, the admirable tract for the unlearned, " The Touchstone, with Answers," containing a complete reply to the Roman Catholic publication of that name. At the same time he was extremely un^nlling to have his name mixed up with the proceedings of any so- cieties of an avowedly proselytising character, lest he should thereby seem to sanction some matters of detail of which he did not quite approve. But that he did not object to .Et. Go] YIEWS ox CONTROVERSIAL DISCUSSIONS. 287 the general principle and objects of such societies is proved by the fact that he licensed for divine worship the Mission Church in Townsend Street ; and so lately as in the year 1856 he gave, through my hands, 50^. to each of the two principal organisations for direct missions to the Roman Catholics of Ireland — " The Irish Society," and the " So- ciety for Irish Church Missions." The evidence, however, which seems most conclusive in this matter, is that which rests upon the fact that he was one of the original founders of the " Society for Protecting the Rights of Conscience in Ireland" in 1850 ; and continued to take an active part in all its proceedings until his death ; that society having been formed for the express purpose of meeting and neu- tralising the bitter and wide-spread persecution excited in Ireland by the success of the operations of the two refor- mation societies above mentioned. I can bear testimony as well as yom*self to the warm interest which he manifested in the progress of the religious movement, at the same time that he exercised his characteristic caution as to the manner in which the temporal aid administered by the " Conscience Protection Society " was to be applied ; viz., that it should be simply for the protection of those who, from an honest conviction of the falsity of Romanism, had openly separated from its commimion, and not as an in- ducement or temptation to any to profess what they did not conscientiously believe.' ^ It was also with his full knowledge and sanction that his son-in-law, for whose judgment he had the highest value, was, whenever resident in Ireland, an active and efficient co-operator in the work of Protestant missions. ' *The accusation that * Dr. Wliately was habitually opposed to contro- versy,' if ever made, was a singular charge against one of the most active and hardy controversialists of his time. But this much is true, that he had a great dislike to see the weapons of controversy, particularly in favour of causes in which he felt an interest, wielded by the hands of the ignorant and self-confident, to the serious damage of their own party, if not of truth. And no doubt, in his outspoken way, he had often made free with the per- formances of these mischievous auxiharies in such a manner as to render him subject to misrepresentation.* 288 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1852 The influence Mr. "Wale exerted in the mission dormitories and training-schools for boys and young men is remem- bered and felt to this day. The Arclibishop was ever ready to allow grants of his works to be made to their libraries ; and these volumes have been studied by the Scripture readers and youths training for teachers with an eagerness and diligence hardly to be equalled in many schools of a higher class. And how precious and tender a memory of two others^ of the family, now also ' bidden up higher,' is interwoven with the Eagged Schools and the ' Bird's Xest ' for destitute little ones, all who remember them well know, for they ' being dead yet speak.' It may not perliaps be out of place to allude here to a circumstance which occurred between four and five years later, and which has been represented in such a way as to give rise to much misapprehension. In a parish in the immediate environs of Dublin a branch of the Irish Church Mission Work was carried on for some time. Serious charges against the agents employed there, and against the society itself, were formally brought under the Arch- bishop's notice in the latter part of the year 1857; and it has been alleged, that in consequence of what occurred upon that occasion, the Archbishop desired the agency of the society to be removed from the parish. This is by no means a correct statement of the facts. A lengthened investigation of the charges took place in tlie Archbishop's presence. Several witnesses were examined on both sides ; but none of the charges against the Irish Church Missions were proved so as to draw from the Arclibishop a verdict or decision. At the conclusion of the proceedings, how- ever, the Archbishop said that the fact of the incumbent of the parish (who was also present) being dissatisfied with the state of things, was sufficiently decisive as to the necessity for discontinuance of the operations of the Mission in the district, in conformity with the funda- * Mrs. "Whately and her youngest daughter, afterwards the wife of Captain George Wale. yEt. 05] MR. senior's JOURXAL. 289 mental rules of the society. The agency was accordingly withdrawn at once, without, however, affecting in any way its working in other parts of Dublin. At this time the Archbishop received a visit from Mr. Senior, during which much interesting conversation passed, which was recorded by j\Ir. Senior in a journal he was in the habit of keeping whenever he was staying from home. Some extracts from the pages of this journal may find a fitting place here. Extract from Mr, Senior's Journal. 'Oct. 8, 1852. ' We posted to Kedesdale, Archbishop Whately's country place, about five miles from Dublin, nearly opposite to Kingstown Harbour. Nature meant the road to be an open terrace, between the sea and the mountains. Man has made it a dirty lane, twisting between high walls. Almost all the country near Dublin is cut into squares, each with its wall without and its fringe of trees within, merely ugly in summer, but damp and unwholesome in winter. ' We talked after dinner about Puseyism. I asked if it was prevalent in Ireland ? ' " Not so prevalent," answered the Archbishop, " as in England ; but it exists. I was told that we should escape it — that, as we have the real thing, we should not adopt the copy — but I was sure that it would come. Ireland catches every disease after it has passed over England. Cholera came to us after you had had it, so did the potato rot, so did Puseyism." ' " I am inclined," I said, " to think that it is diminish- ing in England." ' " Diminishing," said the Archbishop, " in its old head- quarters, Oxford, but increasing in the country parishes. The tidal wave, after it has begun to ebb in the ocean, still rises in the bays and creeks. Those who were taught Puseyism fifteen years ago, are now teaching it in their villages." u 290 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1852 ' " I heard the lessons read," said , " by a young Puseyite, and they were mumbled over, so as to be scarcely intelligible." ' " What is the explanation of this ? " I said. " The Puseyites cannot wish to show disrespect to Scripture ? " ' "I do not pretend," said the Archbishop, "to be master of all the details of Puseyism ; but its general theory is, religion by proxy. The priest is not only to pray, but to believe for the laity. To them the raw Bible is dangerous. They ought not to receive it until he has cooked it. The lessons ought not to be read at all, or they ought to be read in Latin ; or, if they must be read in English, they should be hurried over, so as to let them give as little knowledge and do as little harm as possible." ' We conversed on the appointment of bishops by the Ministry. The Archbishop said, that to choose them without reference to their opinions on the education question, was to send arms and ammunition to the Cape, and to be utterly indifferent whether they fell into the hands of the Queen's troops or of the Cafifres. He had observed this to a leading statesman, who answered that this impartiality would give him a much wider choice. " I ventured," said the Archbishop, " to doubt this. ' Of course,' I said, ' if you mean that, by ignoring the existence of the opposition between the friends and the enemies of mixed education, you will be able to select your bishop from among a larger number of clergymen, that is obviously true. I even believe that, if you were to select exclusively from among its enemies, you would j&nd more clergymen to choose from than if you selected exclusively from among its friends ; but if your object be to choose from the fittest men, I do not think that considering hostility to mixed education no disqualification will enlarge your field of choice in the least. If I had to point out the half-dozen best men in all other respects — the men who, if there were no Education Board, would be the fittest for promotion — I should have to take them all from among the friends of mixed education.' I do not think, however, that I convinced him." .^T. Go] MR. SEXIOR'S journal. 291 ' " I suppose," I said, " that you adhere to your old opinion as to the abolition of the Lord Lieutenancy ? " ' " I feel it," he said, " more strongly every day. No friend to the Union, no friend to good government, can wish to retain that office. Those who hear that the Lord Lieutenant is kept at work a\l day, and perhaps half the night, infer that he must have much to do. I have served the office for months at a time. The Lords Justices, in the absence of the Lord Lieutenant, perform all his duties, except those connected with patronage and representation. They are not employed for three hours in a week. The Lord Lieutenant's days and nights are wasted on intrigue and party squabbles, on the management of the press and the management of ' fetes ; ' on deciding what ruined gambler is to have this stipendiary magistracy, and what repealer is to be conciliated by asking his wife and daughters to a concert — in short, on things nine-tenths of which cannot be so well treated as by being left alone. The abolition of this phantom of independence is the first step towards the consolidation of the two countries. I must add, that, attached as I am to regal government, yet, if we changed our sovereign every time that we changed our Ministry, I had rather take refuge in some more stable form of constitution, though of an inferior kind." ' " Would you retain," I said, " the Irish Office ? " ' " Certainly not," answered the Archbishop, " I would no more have an Irish Office than a Welsh Office. The bane of Ireland is the abuse of its patronage ; what Lord Eosse says of the stipendiary magistrates is true of every other Irish appointment. Fitness is the only claim that is disregarded ; this would be bad enough anywhere, but it is peculiarly mischievous in a highly centralised country, where the bureaucratic influence is felt in every fibre. Now the concentration of the Irish patronage in the hands of one or two persons resident in Ireland is favourable to this abuse. The English public is accustomed to consider Irish appointments as things done in Ireland by Irishmen, and for Irishmen, with which it has no concern. It thinks it TJ 2 292 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1852 probable that, like everything else that is Irish, they are very bad, but does not hold that the English Government is responsible for them. A Prime Minister or a Home Secretary would not bear the disgrace of the jobs which are expected from a Lord Lieutenant or from a Secretary for Ireland. He would both be subject to a less pressure, and would be better able to resist it. ' " In a country in which the aristocratic element is strong," continued the x\rchbishop, " we must submit to see men promoted in consequence of their birth and con- nexions ; in a country subject to parliamentary govern- ment we must expect to see functionaries selected rather to serve the party than to serve the public. It is only a government like that of Louis Xapoleon that can give its patronage only to merit. But in Ireland a third element interferes to disturb all our appointments, that is to say, the religious element. It has been the principle of some viceroys to favour the Roman Catholics ; that of others to favour the Protestants, and I have heard of departments in which the vacancies were filled from each sect alter- nately, and Papists and Protestants were disposed like the squares on a chessboard. . . . We probably could not escape this abuse altogether if the appointments were made in England, but I think there would be less of it." ' " Do you find," I asked, " any marked difi*erence be- tween your Roman Catholic and Protestant inspectors ? " ' " Not," he answered, " a marked dilference : the Pro- testants, I think, are rather the best. I am told that in the higher departments of the public service the difference is marked, and that the Protestants are by far the best public servants, and I should expect it to be so. In the lower and middle classes the education received by the children of both sexes is nearly the same ; but in the hio'her classes the Protestants have until now been edu- cated, not well perhaps, but much better than the Roman Catholics. Let us hope that the Queen's Colleges will re- move this distinction, and place both classes on an equality, elevating each, but raising most that which is now the ower." yET. 65] MR. senior's journal. 293 ' " Under any training*," I said, "Catholicism must be unfavourable to mental development. A man who has been accustomed to abstain from exercising his reason on the most important subjects to which it can be applied, can scarcely feel the earnest anxiety for truth, the deter- mination to get to the bottom of every question that he considers, which is the principal stimulus to improvement in the higher branches of knowledge. This does not apply to higher laymen in France or Italy, for they do not believe in the peculiarities of Catholicism, but it must always injure the minds of the English and Irish Catholics who do." ' The Archbishop is president of the " Society for Pro- tecting: the Eiofhts of Conscience." For some time a con- siderable conversion to Protestantism has been going on in Ireland. The converts are to be numbered by thousands — not by hundreds. ' I asked to what these conversions were to be attributed? What were the causes which had suddenly opened men's minds to arguments which had been addressed to them for years without success ? ' " The causes," said the Archbishop, " must be numer- ous ; it is not probable that I am acquainted with them all, or that I assign to those which occur to me their relative importance . . but I will tell you all that I know or conjecture, and I will also tell you what opinions are current. Many persons think that it is owing to the general diffusion of Bibles, Testaments, and Prayer-books, by the societies instituted for those purposes. But those societies have been at work for many years, and the con- versions on the present scale are recent. Others believe, or profess to believe, that the conversions are purchased. This is the explanation given by the Eoman Catholics. An old woman went to one of my clergy and said : ' I am come to surrender to your reverence, and I want the leg of mutton and the blanket.' ' What leg of mutton and blanket ? ' said the clergyman ; ' I have scarcely enough of either for myself and my family, and certainly none to give. Who eould have put such nonsense into your head ? ' 29-i LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1852 ' Why, sir,' she said, ' Father Sullivan told us that the con- verts each got a leg of mutton and a blanket, and as I am famished, and starving with cold, I thought that God would forgive me for getting them.' ' " But our society has for months been challenging those who spread this calumny to prove it. AVe circulate queries, asking for evidence, that rewards or inducements have been held out, directly or indirectly, to persons to profess themselves converts. Not only has no case been substantiated, no case has been even brought forward. Instead of being bribed, the converts, until they are numerous enough in any district to protect one another, are oppressed by all the persecution that can be inflicted in a lawless country by an unscrupulous priesthood, hounding on a ferocious peasantry. Another explanation is, that it is owing to the conduct of the priests during the O'Brien rebellion. The priests, it is said, lost their popularity by exciting the people and then deserting them. The fact is true, but it is not enough to account for con- versions in many parts of Ireland which were not agitated by that movement. ' " Another theory is, that it is mainly owing to the different conduct of the Protestant and the Eoman Catholic clergy during the famine. The Protestant clergy literally shared their bread, or rather their meal, with their parishioners, without the least sectarian distinction — they devoted all their time, all their energy, all their health, and all that the Poor Law left them of their small re- venues, to those who were starving round them. Their wives and daughters passed their days in soup-kitchens and meal rations. ' " The Eoman Catholic clergy were not sparing of their persons — they lived, and a great many of them died, among the sick ; but the habit of tlie clergy is never to give ; there is a division of labom- between them and the laity — they take faith, and the laity good works, at least, as far as almsgiving is a good work. A great part of them, indeed, during the famine, had nothing to give; they starved with their flocks, when their flocks ceased to .Et. Go] MR. senior's journal. 295 pay dues. But others had means of their own, and many of those who took part in the distribution of the Grovern- ment money or of the English subscriptions, helped them- selves out of tlie funds which passed through their hands to what they considered to be the amount due to them from the people. But no part of their revenues, however obtained, found its way to the poor. Their incomes were spent during the famine as they were spent before it, and as they are now spent — on themselves, or hoarded until they could be employed in large subscriptions to chapels or convents. And this was not the worst. In many cases they refused to those who could not, or who would not pay for them, the sacraments of their Church. In ordinary times this may be excusable ; a clergy unendowed and unsalaried must be supported by voluntary contributions or by dues. In so poor a country as Ireland voluntary contribution cannot be relied on. The priest might often starve, if he did not exact his dues, and as he has no legal rights, his only mode of exacting them is to make their payment the condition on which his ministrations ,are performed. But during the famine payment was obviously impossible. When, imder such circumstances, the sacraments which the priest affirmed to be necessary passports to Heaven were refused, the people could not avoid inferring either that the priest let men sink into eternal torment, to avoid a little trouble to himself, or that absolution or extreme unction could not be essential to salvation. ' " The great instrument of conversion, however, is the diffusion of Scriptural education. Archbishop Murray and I agreed in desiring large portions of the Bible to be read in our national schools ; but we agreed in this because we disagreed as to its probable results. ' " He believed that they would be favourable to Eoman- ism. I believed that they would be favourable to Protes- tantism ; and I feel confident that I was right. For twenty years large extracts from the New Testament have been read in the majority of the national schools, far more dili- gently than that book is read in ordinary Protestant places of education. ' " The Irish, too, are more anxious to obtain knowledge 296 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1852 than the English. When on the Queen's visit she asked for a holiday in the National Schools, the children sub- mitted to that compliment being paid to her, but they considered themselves as making a sacrifice. The conse- quence is, that the majority of the Irish people, between the ages of twenty and thirty, are better acquainted with the New Testament than the majority of the English are. ' " Though the priest may still, perhaps, denounce the Bible collectiv^ely, as a book dangerous to the laity, he cannot safely object to the Scripture extracts, which are read to children with the sanction of the prelates of his own Church. . . . But those extracts contain so much that is inconsistent with the whole spirit of Eomanism, that it is difficult to suppose that a person well acquainted with them can be a thorough-going Eoman Catholic. The principle on which that Church is constructed, the duty of unenquiring, unreasoning submission to its authority, renders any doubt fatal. A man who is commanded not to think for himself, if he finds that he cannot avoid doing so, is unavoidably led to question the reasonableness of the command. And when he finds that the Church, which claims a right to think for him, has preached doctrines, some of which are inconsistent and others are opposed to what he has read in the Gospels, his trust in its infalli- bility, the foundations on which its whole system of faith is built, is at an end. ' " Such I believe to be the process by which the minds of a large portion of the Roman Catholics have been pre- pared, and are now being prepared, for the reception of Protestant doctrines. The education supplied by the National Board is gradually undermining the vast fabric of the Irish Koman Catholic Church. ' " Two things only are necessary on the part of the Government. One is, that it adhere resolutely, not only in its measm-es but in its appointments, in the selection of bishops as well as in making parliamentary grants, to the system of mixed education. The other is, that it afford to the converts the legal protection to which every subject JEt. 65] MR. senior's journal. 297 of the Queen is entitled, but which all her subjects do not obtain in Ireland. Some of the persecutions to which they are exposed are beyond the reach of the law. It can- not force the Koman Catholics to associate with them, or to employ them, or to deal with them. ... It cannot protect them from moral excommunication. To mitigate, and if possible to remedy, those sufferings is the business of our Society ; and I hope that, as soon as the public is aware of its necessity, we shall obtain funds enough to enable us to perform it. But good legislation and good administration, good laws, good magistrates, and a good police, are all that is wanting to protect the converts from open insults, injuries to their properties, assaults, and assassination. This protection the State can give to them, and this protection they do not now obtain. ' " I quite agree with Lord Kosse, that an improvement in penal justice is the improvement most wanted in Ireland." 'My brother and I walked with the Archbishop to Blackrock. AVe talked of the Education Board. ' " A year ago," said my brother, " the country gentle- men of the north, who used to be its fierce opponents, were gradually coming round. They would prefer, indeed, a grant for Protestant Schools, but, as that seemed im- possible, they were beginning to support mixed education. The change of Ministry, by reviving their hopes of a sepa- rate grant has stopped them. They are waiting to see how the Government will act." ' " In England," I said, " we believe that Lord Derby will not venture to propose such a grant. He cannot propose a grant for purposes exclusively Protestant with- out proposing one for piu-poses exclusively Catholic, and the Maynooth debate must have convinced him that such a grant as the latter he cannot carry." ' " What I fear," said the Archbishop, " is a measiu-e which, though not avowedly sectarian, may be so practi- cally. I fear that a grant may be offered to any patron who will provide such secular education as the Government shall approve, leaving him to fm-nish such religious educa- 2D8 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1852 tion as lie may himself approve. If this be done the schools in the Roman Catholic districts will be so many jNIaynooths, so many hotbeds of bigotry and religions ani- mosity. Nor will the Protestant schools be mnch better. The great object of the teachers in each will be contro- versial theology, and secular instruction, and even moral instruction, will be neglected. I believe, as I said the other day, that mixed education is gradually enlightening the mass of the people, and that, if we give it up, we give up the only hope of w^eaning the Irish from the abuses of Popery. But I cannot venture openly to profess this opinion. I cannot openly support tlie Education Board as an instrument of conversion. I have to fight its battle with one hand, and that my best, tied behind me. ' " One of the difficulties," he continued, " in working the mixed system arises from the difference in character of the parties who have to work it. Much is necessarily left to their honour. If the patron or the master choose to violate the rules of the Board, he may often do so with- out detection. Our inspectors are too few to exercise more than a partial superintendence, and too ill paid to be always trustworthy. Now I must say that the Protestants more strongly feel, or at least observe more faithfully, the obligation of honour and of promises tlian the Roman Catholics. The more zealous Protestants keep aloof from the system of mixed education, because it ties their hands. They cannot, without a breach of faith, teach in our schools their own peculiar doctrines ; or, rather, they can teach them only at particular times and to particular classes ; they naturally wish to make them a part of the ordinary instruction ; they support, therefore, only schools of their own, where their hands are free. ' " The zealous Roman Catholics are less scrupulous ; their hands are free everywhere. With all its defects, how- ever— and many of those defects would be remedied by a grant not so grossly inadequate as that which it now receives — we must adhere to the system of mixed educa- tion. ' " The control which it gives to us is not perfect, but jEt. Go] ^IK. SEXIOR'S JOURXAL. 299 it is very great. It secures the diffusion of an amount of secular and religious instruction such as Ireland never enjoyed before its institution, and certainly would not enjoy if it were to be overthrown : and it prevents the diffusion of an amount of superstition, bigotry, intoler- ance, and religious animosity, I really believe more extensive and more furious than any that we have yet encountered." ' " Would you support," I asked, " Mavnooth ? ' ' " I am not sure," answered the Archbishop, " that its original institution was wise. Mr. Pitt thought that the young priests were taught disaffection and anti-Anglicism at Douai, and he created for their education the most disaffected and the most anti-Enaiish establishment in Europe ; but, having got it, we must keep it. While the grant was annual, it might have been discontinued ; now that it is permanent, to withdraw or even to diminish it would be spoliation. It would be a gross abuse of the preponderance in Parliament of the British members. We have no more right to deprive tlie Irish Poman Catholics, against their will, of the provision which we have made for the education of their clergy, than they would have, if they were numerically superior, to pass an Act for the sale of the colleges and the estates of Oxford and Cambridge, and the application of the produce in re- duction of the national debt. ' " I hear," he said, turning to my brother, " that you reason somewhat in the same way respecting the Eccle- siastical Titles Act ; that admitting it to have been a very unwise measure, yet, now that it has passed, you would act on it. I agree with you, that to advance in order to retreat, to pass an Act and then to be afraid to enforce it, is very mischievous. But in this case we have to choose between two mischiefs ; and I am convinced that to attempt to enforce the Act would be the greater mischief." ' " And yet," I said, " you concurred in wishing the Act to be extended to Ireland." ' " What I concurred in," said the Archbishop, was 300 LIFE OF .\KCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1852-3 not in wishing that such an Act should be passed for the British Islands, for I utterly disapprove of it, but in wishing that it should not be passed for England alone. I believed the Act, if general, to be a great evil, but a still greater evil if confined to England. It was saying to the English Eoman Catholics, You are weak and loyal, therefore we trample on you ; to the Irish, You are strong and rebellious, therefore we leave you alone." ' " To return," I said, " to Maynooth ; what is your im- pression as to the education there ? " ' " I believe," said the Archbishop, " that it is very poor ; that little is studied except controversial theology, and that very imperfectly. Hercules Dickinson, a son of the poor Bishop of Meath, had a long discussion the other day with a Roman Catholic priest. The priest maintained that if the authority of the Church was not infallible we had no certain guide; that the text of the Scriptures might be falsified; and that we could not rely on our Old Testament, as we do not possess it in the original Greek.'" .Ex. GG" OX thackeeay's novels. 301 CHAPTER XI. 1853. Letter to Mr. Senior on Thackeray's Novels — Withdraws from the National Education Board — Letrer of Condolence to Dr. Hinds — Letter to Mrs. Hill — Visits his Daughter in Cambridgesliire— Letter to Mrs. Arnold — Letter to Miss Gurney on the Jewish Emancipation Bill — Eeturn to Dublin — Letter to Dr. Daubeny on Botanical Subjects — Letter to Miss Crdbtree — Publishes the 'Hopeful Tracts' — Letters to Mrs. Hill — His Inner Life. — Persecutions of Protestant Converts in Workliouses — Letter to Mr. Senior — Letter to Mrs. Arnold — Letter to Dr. Daubeny — Letter to Mr. Senior — Takes a prominent part in the Petition for Registration and Inspection of Nunneries. The earliest letter before us, of the year 1853, is a criticism on Mr. Senior's review of Thackeray's works. It will be found in the posthumous volume of Mr. Senior's reviews, entitled ' Essays on Fiction.' 'Jan. 12. 1853. ' My dear Senior,— I have read your article, as usual, with delight and instruction ; but I am the less able to judge, from not having been able to get through any of Thackeray's novels except " Vanity Fair." Pendennis " I got weary of, and laid it aside ; " Vanity Fair " I got weary of too, but went through it. His characters are either so disgustingly odious, or else so mawkishly silly — some of the characters are so unnaturally " inconsistent," viz. they are too good to be such fools as he represents them — that I cannot take an interest in them. ' If you were to serve up a dinner with top dish a roasted fox, stufifed with tobacco and basted with train oil, and at bottom an old ram goat, dressed with the hair on, and seasoned with assafatida, the side dishes being plain boiled rice, this woidd give an idea of what his fictions are to my taste. You will see that I agree with your censm-es, as I 302 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1853 do also witli your commendations, only that I should make the former stronger and the latter fainter. ' What you formerly said about the " amusing " being preferable to the " interesting," I fully agree with ; but the amusement afforded by Thackeray is so mixed with disgust, that, as I heard an intelligent person say the other day, " I should never think of reading a page of his a second time." Now Shakespeare and W. Scott, and Miss Austen and Mitford, &c., I can look at again and again with amusement.' It was in this year that the events occurred which led to the Archbishop's final withdrawal from the National Education Board. Much misapprehension has existed with respect to the reasons which occasioned this with- drawal ; the letters which follow will best point out the motives which actuated him ; but a few words of explana- tion may not be out of place here. When the rules of the Education Board were first drawn up, the Archbishop had been far from expecting that extracts from Scripture would have been permitted in the regular lesson books, but they, as well as the ' Easy Les- sons on Christian Evidences,' drawn up by the Archbishop in 1837, received the distinct and full sanction of Dr. Murray, then Roman Catholic Archbishop of Dublin. It is important to dwell on this point, because it has been alleged that Dr. Murray did not give his formal sanction, but only abstained from prohibiting it, and that this negative approval was taken as a deliberate and official sanction. This statement is sufiiciently answered by recalling the rules of the Board witli respect to books brought before them. No book could be placed on their list without the unanimous sanction of all the members of the Board. If there was a dissentient voice the book was not placed on the list at all, therefore such a thing as a negative sanction was utterly impossible. The very rules of the Society put it out of the question ; and thus the fact of these books being placed on the list, and used in tlie schools, was a .Ex. GO] NATIOXAL EDUCATIOX BOAHD. 303 sufficient guarantee for their having had the sanction of every individual member. Dr. Murray, to whose high character all who knew him, however differing from him in views, bore full testimony, never slirank from avowing his approbation of the works in question ; and this is proved by a letter referred to by Dr. Sullivan, in page 382 of the Eeport of the Committee of the House of Lords on Irish Education in 1854. This letter, dated October 21, 1838, was addressed by Dr. Murray to all his brother prelates in Ireland, with one exception. In it he expresses the strongest approbation of the Scripture extracts, and adds : ' They are so con- structed that they may be used in common by all the pupils. The notes, therefore, that are appended to them do not advocate the discriminating doctrines of any par- ticular class of Christians. It would be unfair in us to expect that a book to be used at the time of jojji^ instruc- tion should unfold any peculiar views of religion. The sacred text which it contains supplies much of sacred history, and much of moral precept, with which it is highly important that all should be acquainted ; while the notes which are added are such as can give no just cause of offence to any other denomination of Christians.' ^ Such are Dr. Murray's views of the extracts, and the request made (with one exception) by his brother prelates that he would continue to act as commissioner (in reply to his proposal of resigning) did in fact commit them all to the same view. But when, at the death of Dr. Murray, a new primate was appointed, a change took place in the ' Archbishop Murray ever bore a generous and candid testimony to Archbishop Whately's merit. In the same letter in which he speaks of the Scripture extracts, he thus alludes to him : ' No matter how he may differ from me in his religious belief, I am sure nothing that was not kind and liberal could come from that eminent individual.' This testimony was the more striking, because all knew that Archbishop Whately was no neutral or lukewarm Protestant, nor one inclined to make light of the difference between his views and those of the Church of Eome. It was as an honest and fair-minded opponent that Dr. Murray esteemed him. It may here be observed, that although through their life they were on terms of cordial good understanding and friendliness, their intercourse together was entirely official, and this by mutual agreement, each seeing that the course pursued was the most expedient under the circumstances. 304 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP \rHATELY. [1853 course pursued by the members of the Cliurch of Eome as regarded the National Board. The lessons on Evidences and the Scriptm-e Extracts were voted prohibited books, and the Eoman Catholic children and teachers forbidden, one and all, to use them. The Board on this resolved to meet specially to discuss what steps to take. The Archbishop intimated to them that he would take no part in the discussion, and even avoided attending the meetings till their decision had been made. The resolution to which the majority of the members came, was to take the obnoxious books oflf the list. The Archbishop considered this as virtually a breach of faith with the public. In the first instance, the Board might have decided as they thought best, as to receiving or rejecting any given work, and in such decisie^ns he would have acquiesced, even though differing in judgment from them as to details ; but having deliberately sanctioned these works, and used them for years, and many having been induced to place their schools under the Board on the strength of these very books, he felt they had no right to withdi-aw the sanction they had given. On this ground, and as a question of justice and straightforward dealing, he considered it his duty to withdraw his connection with the Board. That this was a step not taken without much pain and mortification, no one who knew him could doubt : but his personal feeling to the Board was so far from unfriendly, that he continued to pay the salary of a regular catechist, a clergyman of the Church of England, who attended the model schools in Dublin weekly, to give religious instruc- tion to the members of the Established Church, both pupils and teachers in training. And up to a few weeks before his last illness, he came himself from time to time^ to see that the instruction was regularly and steadily given. He also continued to give Bibles and Prayer-books to the pupils and teachers in training, as he had done during his connection with the Board. His views with regard to the system can best be given JEt. 66] CONDOLENCE WITH DR. HINDS. 305 in his own words, at p. 166 of the Eeport already alluded to. He adds, ' I approve of the system as much as ever, and am as ready to carry it on, but I feel that I should be deserting it in the most disingenuous and the most mis- chievous way possible, were I to pretend to be carrying it on when in reality subverting it.' ^ Both the Lord Justice of Appeal (the Eight Hon. F. Blackburne) and Baron Greene, who retired from the Board with the Archbishop, entertained and expressed the same view. The former, in his evidence before the Lords' Committee in 1856, says, 'I consider the expunging of the books from the list as a breach of faith,' and he gives this as the reason for his resigning. The Grovernment subsequently caused the Board to draw up and insert among their fundamental rules the following one : ' The Commissioners will not withdraw or essentially alter any book that has been or shall be here- • after unanimously published or sanctioned by them with- out a previous communication with the Lord Lieutenant.' In the midst of these turmoils, he found time to write to his old friend Bishop Hinds, on hearing of a domestic bereavement. ' Dublin : Feb. 1, 1853. ' My dear Hinds, — After what you had said in a former letter, I could not feel surprised or even sorry to hear of your good mother's departure. As for the sufferings previously undergone, it is hard to check the imagination so as to keep within the bounds of reason ; but I always endeavour to recollect in such cases that what is past and ' It may be "well to notice here, that the story which has recently been brought forward, of the Archbishop's having manifested his displeasure against the Eesident Commissioner, the Eight Hon. Alex. Macdonnell, by deliberately omitting his name and title in addressing his letters, and directing to Macdonnell, Esq., is entirely unfounded. The truth is, that the concentrative habit of mind which distinguished him led to con- tinual forgetfulness of etiquette and petty forms ; and the instance of care- lessness alluded to might have taken place, and often did, with his most intimate friends. No one who really knew him could for a moment suppose him capable of such a mean piece "of spite. X 306 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1853 over, for ever, is no legitimate source of grief. The only thing which reason cannot get over in such a case — the suffering of the good — is only one portion of the one great difficulty, the existence of evil ; and when the suffering is such as to exhibit an edifying example of patient faith, one perceives, which is not always the case, one good brought out of evil. ' Far more afflicting to all parties, except the patient herself — and sometimes to her or him also — is the piteous spectacle of decaying intellect, gradually reaching the point of complete dotage, and presenting for perhaps years an object of unmixed pain to those around. ' I congratulate you and your sisters on having been spared everything of this kind. Pray Grod my family may be spared it too ! ' Again we find him urging Mrs. Hill to continue her anti-slavery labours. ' Your article should be chiefly occupied — 1. In doubts about the plan of redeeming slaves and sending them to Liberia, which I suspect is a plan for getting rid (like the crypteia of the Spartans) of the most dangerous to the slave system. 2. On the contrast between a poor hard- worked labourer in Europe, and a slave. The sense of wrong is a great aggravation of any suffering to one who has the feeling of a man. It is unpleasant in going through a wood to have boughs bang against one's face, and drops from the trees wet one ; but who feels this as he would a man's spitting in his face, and slapping him at pleasure ? True, many a slave has lost the feelings of a man : so much the worse ! "Wretch "whom no sense of wrong can rouse to vengeance ! Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, ^ Spiritless outcast ! ' 3. Suggest the greater profitableness of free labour, when fairly tried. 4. Bishop Hinds' suggestion should be noticed, and the pros and cons briefly stated. 5. Some- • See Caniiing's ' Knife Grinder.' .•Et. OG] LETTER TO MRS. ARNOLD. 307 thing about Abbeokuta and Sierra Leone, and the efforts now being made to introduce agricultural industry into Africa. Better for all parties that cotton and sugar should be grown there (which succeed perfectly) and thence im- ported, than to carry away the negroes to cultivate them 1,000 miles off.' In April this year the Archbishop was staying with his daughter and son-in-law in Cambridgeshire. The letter he writes from thence to Mrs. Arnold gives a slight but characteristic touch of that delight in his grandchildren which was one of the solaces of his declining years. ' Saintfoins, Little Shelford, Cambridge : 'April 6, 1853. ' My dear Mrs. Arnold, — In case your folks should be as dilatory as usual, I send you a " Caution," which you can dispose of if you have another copy. ' You should enquire for the new edition of Mr. Cookesley's letter to me, and my answer.^ It is in the press, and is much enlarged. ' I am enacting the part of a camel, and sundry other beasts of burden, to carry my grand-daughter on my back. ' I trust you have come in for your share of this fine growing weather.' He writes as follows to Miss Gumey, of North Kepps — with whom his daughter was at that time staying — on the Jewish Emancipation Bill of this year : — ' London : May 7, 1853. ' My dear IMiss Grurney, — Many thanks for the seeds, which I have sent to Dublin ; and much more, for your kindness to my Jane. How much rather would I have been of your party, puzzling out etymologies, than amidst all the turmoil of London ! ' On Miss Sellon and the 'Sisterhood,' at Plymouth. Those curious on the subject may be referred to ' Maude, or the Anglican Sister of Mercy,' a true history of the events here alluded to, and which Archbishop Whately would have himself edited had his life been spared. (^Published by Harri- son, 59 PaU Mall.) X 2 308 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1853 ' My speech was very meagrely reported, as mine usually are ; but, though my views differ much from those of most of the supporters of the Bill, they do not differ at all from those I published (in a speech on the same subject) about twenty years ago, and again in my Charge of the year 1851. So that if you wish to see them fully set forth, you may look at those. ' The supporters of the Bill were, many of them, as lukewarm as its opponents were zealous, or we should have had a much better minority. But I plainly told Lord A that I hoped they would next time bring in a better Bill, taking the bull by the horns at once, and sweeping off all religious disabilities. One might then say, consistently, that this is not from indifference to Christianity, but from a persuasion that all attempts to monopolise by law civil privileges for Christians, or for Christians of any particular communion, are contrary to the spirit of the Grospel, and tend to make Christ's a king- dom of this world. As it is, we are in a most absurdly false position, in many ways : 1. A Jew is admitted to the elective franchise. 2. Since to let a Jew take his seat when elected, would, it seems, unchristianise the legis- lature, to admit a Koman Catholic must, by the same rule, unprotestantise the legislature ; and to admit a Dissenter, must unchurch it ; and so on. 3. Since to re- move the existing declaration would, it seems, proclaim indifference to Christianity, the retaining of it proclaims indifference to all but the name ; since there are men (and much more numerous than the Jews) who are ready to call themselves Christians, and who themselves avow what they mean by it, as denying all revelation except the im- pressions on each man's own mind, and rejecting the chief part of the Grospel-history and Gospel-doctrines. Such are the followers of F. Newman and Grreg. 4. We are pro- claiming that the English people are so desirous of electing Jews, and the House of Commons (four different parlia- ments !) of allowing them to sit, that it is necessary for the House of Lords to throw out this Bill, in order to show that we are a Christian nation ! .Ex. G6] OX JEWISH E:NL\yCIPATIOX BILL. 309 ' And yet, after all, this honour to Christianity (I) is bestowed only by a side wind, and accidentally ; for, the declaration was never designed as a religious test, but as a declaration of loyalty ; but it so happened that the wording of it proved an obstacle to Jews taking their seats. ' Well, therefore, did Lord say that logical con- clusions and reasoning must be laid aside by the oppo- nents I If they would be consistent, they should let no person have a vote for a member, or be eligible, without declaring himself a Christian. As the law now stands, it is a mass of absurdity.' ^ The Archbishop was now retiurned to Dublin ; and we find him writing to his old friend. Dr. Daubeny, of Oxford, on one of the subjects which formed a pleasing relaxation to his mind from more pressing cares. His love of natiual history and botany never failed ; and the College Botanical G-ardens in Dublin bear witness to his many and varied experiments, and the interest he took in collecting plants from all parts. His correspondents in various quarters of the globe, knowing his tastes, frequently sent him seeds or cuttings, which he always took to the College Gardens that they might have the benefit of the carefid superin- tendence of ]Mr. Baine, to whose admirable management and scientific knowledge he always bore ready testimony ; and many of his pleasantest hours were spent in watching the effects of these experiments. ' Palace, Dublin : Jane 11, 1853. ' Dear Dr. Daubeny, — Many thanks for your book, of which I have read as yet only the passage relating to myself. * *The debate to which allusion is here made took place on April '29. On this occasion the Archbishop spoke out, on the geneml subject of tests, ■with even more than his usual fearlessness. He was dissatisfied with the present Bill, not merely on account of what he conceived to be an erroneous title, in that it purported to be a Bill for the relief of the Jews, instead of for the relief of electors ; but because it did not do away altogether with all declarations required from members of Parliament. ' He did not approve of this patchwork legislation — this passing of laws, first for the relief of Separatists, then of Quakers, then of Jews,' * 310 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WIL\TELT. [1853 ' There is a case of what may be called acclimatisation, which seems very curious. The red-flowering ribes when first brought over was remarked as flowering freely but never fruiting ; after some years it began to bear here and there a berry, and every year more and more, and now is every year loaded with fruit. The vibes aureum and the prickly species have also begun, after several years, to bear a few berries. ' All the plants of the Garrya in our country bear only catkins, though it is said to be a monoecioas plant. ' There are some differences between England and Ire- land, which it seems hard to explain from differences of climate. The Buddlea flowers freely in England, but the flowers are almost always abortive. When I lived in Suffolk I had one which once produced a perfect seed- vessel, and my neighbours came to see it as a great curi- osity. In Ireland they are loaded with seed-vessels every year. How is this to be accounted for ? ' When I lived in Suffolk I had a laburnum tree, one of whose branches, about as thick as a finger, swelled out towards the extremity nearly to the thickness of one's wrist, and from this bulging part pushed out a dozen or more luxuriant shoots. I cut off the branch and sent it to a horticultural society in London, who considered it a great curiosity. In Ireland nearly half the laburnums we see put forth such branches. ' Yom's truly, ' Ed. Dublin. 'June 12. ' P.S. — It was in the Sandwich Islands that taro was cultivated, not in New Zealand, where they had only the sweet potato. ' The inspissated juice of the cassava is called cassaripe, not cassarine. I doubt whether the poisonous juice is ever used by the Indians to poison their arrows, though they do use for that purpose some vegetable poisons. It is a curious circumstance worth noticing that there is a variety of the cassava, not a distinct species, which is not .^Et. 66] LETTER TO MRS. HILL. • 311 at all poisonous ; it is eaten boiled or roasted, like a potato. ' I believe you will find that the tripe de roche is not a seaweed but a lichen.' The letter which follows, to Mrs. Hill, unlocks a recess of his inner life, and shows the reality of the struggles he was called on to undergo ; not only against outward dijBfi- culties, but inward hindrances. 'Sept. 29, 1853. ' Perhaps you have heard that, according to the Hindoo law, infidelity in a wife is severely denounced, except only in case of her being offered the present of an Elephant. That is considered a douceur too magnificent for any woman to be expected to refuse. Now in Europe, though an actual elephant is not the very thing that offers the strongest temptation, there is, in most people's conscience, something analogous to it ; and different things are elephants to different characters. ' To myself, the " scandalon" most to be guarded against — the right hand and right eye, that offended, and was to be cut off — was one which few people who have not known me as a child would, I believe, conjecture. It was not avarice or ambition. If I could have had an archbishopric for asking it of a minister, I would not have asked, though the alternative liad been to break stones on the road ; nor would such a sacrifice have cost me much of a struggle. But my danger was from the dread of censure. Few would conjecture this, from seeing how I have braved it all my life, and how I have perpetually been in hot water, when, in truth, I had a natural aversion to it. But so it was. Approbation I had, indeed, a natm-al liking for ; but so immensely short of my dislike of its opposite that I would not have pm*chased (by my own choice) a pound of honey at the cost of chewing one drachm of aloes. ' So I set myself resolutely to act as if I cared nothing for either the sweet or the bitter, and in time I got hardened. And this will always be the case, more or less, through God's help, if we will but persevere, and persevere 312 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1853 from a riglit motive. One gets hardened, as the Canadians do to walking in snow-shoes [raquets] : at first a man is almost crippled with the ' mal raquet,' the pain and swell- ing of the feet, but the prescription is, to go on walking in them, as if you felt nothing at all, and in a few days you feel nothing. ' There was a very dear and valued and worthy friend of mine, who was excessively sensitive, though I believe not more so than, originally. I was, and who exerted his eloquence and ingenuity in descanting on the propriety of not being wholly indifferent to the opinions formed of one — the impossibility of eradicating the regard for appro- bation— and the folly of attempting it or pretending to it, &c. I used to reply that, though all this was very true, I considered my care and pains better bestowed in keeping under this feeling than in vindicating it. I treat it, I said, like the grass on a lawn, which you wish to keep in good order ; you neither attempt nor wish to destroy the grass ; but you mow it down from time to time, as close as you possibly can, well trusting that there will be quite enough left, and that it will be sm-e to grow again. ' Tliis seems to be all about myself, but there is some general use in warning all people to be on the look-out, each for his own Elephant.' The next letter is an answer to some objections made by his correspondent in reply to the former one. ' October 6, 1853. ' My dear Mrs. Hill, — I rather suspect that you are confoimding together two things in themselves quite dif- ferent, though in practice very diflficult to be distinguished : — love of approbation, and deference for the judgment of the (supposed) wise and good, &c. The latter may be felt towards those whom we never can meet with ; — who per- haps were dead ages before we were born, and survive only in their writings. It may be misplaced or excessive ; but it is quite different from the desire of their applause or sympathy or dread of their displeasure or contempt. A .-Et. 66] LETTER TO MRS. HILL. 313 man's desire to find himself in agreement with Aristotle, or Bacon, or Locke, or Paley, &c., whether reasonable or imreasonable, can have nothing to do with their approba - tion of him. But when yon are glad to concur with some living friends whom you think highly of, and dread to differ from them, it is very difficult to decide how far this feeling is the presumption formed by your judgment in favour of the correctness of their \dews (see " Rhetoric — Presumption "), and how far it is the desire of their appro- bation' and sympathy, and dread of the reverse. ' It is of this latter exclusively that I was speaking : you, I think, in the instances you adduce or allude to, Avere thinking of the other. A man who is — like one of those you mention — excessive in his dread of excessive deference will be very apt to fall into the opposite extreme, of court- ing paradox and striving after originality. ' But I was thinking entirely of a different matter, the excessive care concerning what is said or thought of myself. • ' Elizabeth Smith (whose volume of " Eemains" I have unhappily lost ; she was an admirable person) says that if she were to hold up a finger on purpose to gain the ap- plause of the whole world, she would be unjustifiable. If, said she, I obtain the approbation of the wise and good by doing what is right, simply because it is right, I am gra- tified ; but I must never make this gratification, either wholly or partly, my object. ' Yet she had, and avowed much deference for the judg- ment of others, and was reluctant to differ from those who she thought likely to know better than herself. It was not this deference, but the desire of personal approbation, that she felt bound so severely to check. ' One difficulty in acting on this principle is, that it often is even a duty to seek the good opinion of others, not as an ultimate object and for its own sake, but for the sake of influencing them for their own benefit and that of others. " Let your light so shine .... glorify your Father in Heaven." ' But we are to watch and analyse the motives of even actions which we are sure are in themselves right. 3U LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1853 ' And this is a kind of vigilance which human nature is always struggling to escape. One class of men are satis- fied so long as they do what is justifiable, i.e. what may be done from a good motive and what when so done woidd be right ; and which therefore may be satisfactorily defended. Another class — the ascetic — are for cutting off everything that may be a snare. They have heard of the " deceitful- ness of riches," and so they vow poverty, which is less trouble than watching your motives in gaining and spend- ing money. And so of the rest. But if you would cut off all temptations you must cut off your head at once. ' Yom's truly, ' Ed. Dublin.' The persecutions inflicted in the poor-houses on many converts to Protestantism, forced from poverty to betake themselves to this only place of shelter, had been brought before the Archbishop's attention specially at this time. At a somewhat later period his son-in-law, Mr. Wale, made very minute enquiries into this subject, visited several places where these abuses were carried on, and obtained much important information. But such sufferings were easier to ascertain than to remedy. It was on this subject that the following letter was written to Mr. Senior : — 'October 24, 1853. ' My dear Senior, — I send you a paper (which pray ac- knowledge) which has an account of poor-house perse- cution. I had always foreseen and foretold, that l)esides other evils of the Poor Law in Ireland, there would be that of incessant squabbles on a fresh battle-field between Protestants and Koman Catholics. But of late this has increased tenfold ; because many of the Protestants are converts ; and the object of the Koman Catholic priests in each locality is to keep all converts from being employed, so as to force them into the workhouse ; and then, when they are there, to have them persecuted without hope of redress. For most of the officers in the generality of the ^Et. G6] POOR-HOUSE PERSECUTION. 316 workhouses, and a vast majority of the inmates, being Roman Catholics, it is hardly ever that the most notorious outrages can be legally established by testimony. I doubt whether even in Tuscany greater cruelties are practised than in several of our workhouses. For what I send you now is I believe only one case out of very many. As for the man who was only imprisoned for a day, and forced to be bound over to keep the peace, for handing a paper to another, it is true, this was far short in point of se- verity of the Tuscan proceedings. But I wonder you should overlook, as you seem to do, the important circum- stance that the one was wholly illegal ; and that when once men in office are allowed to set at nought law, no one can tell what may come next. The other was accord- ing to law, though a most absurd and cruel law; but still, when law is adhered to, a man can know what he may and may not do. The insolent and overbearing pro- ceedings of Roman Catholics and the disgust and dread felt by Protestants increase daily. The sanction afforded by Grovernment means to allow Roman Catholic " ascen- dency " to the same extent as Protestant " ascendency" formerly prevailed. ' Yours ever, ' R. W.' Mrs. Arnold had asked the Archbishop's opinion of a recently published work wliich had excited much atten- tion. 'Dublin: November 25, 1853. ' My dear Mrs. A., — I can give you no opinion as yet of Professor Maurice's book. I am now reading it by proxy (which is what I often do), having put it into the hands of an intelligent critic. What I have read of his gives me the impression of being much clearer and more satisfactory in each separate passage than as a whole. It reminds me (as the works of several other writers do) of a Chinese painting, in which each single object is drawn with great accuracy, but the whole landscape, for want of perspective, 316 LIFE OF AKCllBISHOP WHATELT. [1853 is what no one can make head or tail of. Thus I have sometimes read a treatise in which I have understood and assented to almost every sentence ; and when I have come to the end and ask myself what is the author's general drift, it has generally appeared that he never had any. ' But I lately saw in some periodical an extract from his work, and one from No. 29 of the "Cautions" * (one of the finest compositions by-the-bye in our language), about a " luminous haze," which the wiiter thought must have had especial reference to Mr. Maurice ; though in fact Fitzgerald had not, I believe, any one particular writer in his mind. ^ I forget whether I told you that Governor Grey has sent me some copies of a translation into Maori of the " Lessons on Money-matters,*' which he says has proved highly acceptable to the natives. He is about to publish a translation of the " Lessons on Eeligious Worship." I have sent him some more books, and among others 's "Lessons on Paul's Epistles." So perhaps they may appear in ]Maori. ' I sent him, along with the books, a present of some hips and haws and holly-berries I The weeds of one country are precious in another.' To Dr. Dauheny. 'Dublin: December 1, 1853. ' Dear Professor^ — I thank you for the pamphlet, with the general views of wliic], I am disposed to agree ; though I am hardly a fair judge, not having read the " Quarterly." You might I believe have brought in this University as a ^vitness ; for there are men among its Fellows who, I believe, are allowed to stand very high in physical science, particularly (but not solely) Professor Lloyd. ' But I wonder you should allude to Homoeopathy as a thing to be pooh-poohed out of court, as not deserving ' By Dr. Fitzgerald. ^Et. G6] LETTER TO DR. DAUBEXY. 317 even to be attended to. Be it truth or error, good or evil, it has made, and is making, far too great a progress to be thought lightly of. For, as our old friend Aristotle says, Kal yap la ayaOa kol tcl KaKa, a^ta olo/jLsda aTTOvhrjs slvai, ' You cannot possibly think it more indefensible than I do the peculiar tenets and pretensions of the Church of Eome ; which yet I should never think of treating as if they could never gain any considerable influence, or be worth contending against. ' Paradoxical, certainly, is a great deal of the homoeo- pathic doctrine ; but this, which is a strong presumption against anything in the outset, becomes a presumption the other way when there is a great and steady, and long- lasting advance. For, as our friend Aristotle again re- marks, what men believe must be either probable, or else true ; and therefore the great improbability of anything which gains and retains great and increasing belief, is, to a certain extent, a presumption, that something so strange must have strong evidence in its favour, or else no one would have listened to it. ' Now, in this case, when I first came here, there was not, as far as I knew, a single homoeopathic practitioner in all Ireland ; at present there are four or five in Dublin alone, in very considerable practice ; besides several in other cities. I believe there are now more in London alone than there were twelve or fourteen years ago in the whole British Empire. And from what I saw on the Con- tinent, I am inclined to think that it is there spreading still more. And when I enquire into the causes of this, I am referred to the statistics of several Foreign Hospitals, and to the returns of Homoeopathic and Allopathic practice in Ireland during some frightful visitations of fever, of dysentery, and of cholera ; all which returns, if falsified, would, one might expect, have been reported and exposed long since. ' Now such being the evidence adduced, and such the results produced by that evidence, I cannot think that it is to be overthrown by a slight and contemptuous touch. 318 LIFE OF .VRCHBISHOP TTHATELY. [1853 You cannot disperse the Turkish and Eussian armies and send them quietly home, like a swarm of bees, " pulveris exigui jactu." ^ Yours very trulv, ' Ed. Dublin.' 'December 14, 1853. ' My dear S., — I am reading the third volume (which is quite independent) of Miss Bremer's (the novelist) " Homes in the Xcw World," which I think would amuse you. Negi'o life, free and enslaved, in the United States and in Cuba, compared, is one of the most interesting points. ' By the bye, Mr. Thackeray was saying, at a party where I met him, that the cases of ill-usage are only here and there one out of many thousands ; and that Mrs. Stowe's pictm-e is as if one should represent the English as humpbacked, or a club-foot nation. \\"onderful people are the Americans ! In all other regions it is thought at least as likely as not that a man entrusted with absolute power will abuse it. We jealously guard against this danger, and so do the Americans. But of the many hun- dred thousands of their people, taken indiscriminately, who are nearly all so humane and just, why do they not choose one to be their absolute monarch? I think the only excuse for Mr. T. would have been the supposition that he was so veinf favom-able in his judgments of hmnan character as to reckon men much better than they are. But in his works he gives just the opposite picture. All his clever characters, and a majority of his weak ones, are utterly selfish and base ; and none but a few simpletons have any moral good about them. I cannot, therefore, but conclude that he knew better about slavery. ' I send you a corrected copy of the verses. If you will get some one to correct yours by it, that will be an acceptable present to some one. ' Just after I wrote last, I saw an account of one of the Scripture-readers haWng been (for no other offence) assaulted, three ribs broken, a tooth knocked out, &c., and the assailant being brought before a magistrate was sen- JEt. 6G] REGISTRATION OF XUXXERIES. 319 tenced to pay a fine of no less than five shillings ! If the Grovernment go on thus, what shall we come to ? ' Yours ever, A petition for the regulation and inspection of nunneries brought forward by Lord Shaftesbury in May this year, led to debates in which the Archbishop took a prominent part, and expressed his hearty concurrence in the effort. A few words of explanation may be usefid here, to re- move misapprehension. He did, in common with most enlightened Protestants, strongly disapprove of the con- ventual system, and believe it to be totally unsanctioned by the spirit of the New Testament. And no doubt liis feelings on this subject influenced him in advocating the measure in question. But he maintained the broader principle that every public institution, whether school, hospital, asylum, or other establishment, ought to be open to public inspection, and that in no other way can the abuse of power be guarded against and the subjects of a free country protected from tyranny. Those, he alleged, who were conscious of no abuses being permitted in their establisliments, would surely be willing and ready to allow of an inspection which could only redound to their credit ; and if any shrank from such an inspection, this was in itself a presumption that the conductors of such institu- tions felt that their work could not bear the light of day. He held that, in the case of any public institution being completely secluded from all outward observation, it is manifestly impossible to guard against the danger of persons being detained against their will or otherwise con- strained ; that if the advocates of convents assure us that no such abuses take place, they should remember that we cannot be expected to take their bare word for it, and that the only proof they can give of being wholly free from this reproach is to be ready to invite inspection. A Roman Catholic gentleman who was on friendly terms with the Archbishop requested his perusal of a letter from a female relation of his who had taken the veil, and who 320 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [l8o3-4 wrote to her friends in terms expressive of the most perfect and exalted happiness as a nun. The Archbishop, on reading the letter, asked whether, if this lady was indeed enjoying a life so blessed, she would not rejoice that others should see and know it, and have an opportunity of personal observation of the happiness of convent life ? If the system, he thought, be indeed so perfect, let all men see and judge of it ; but as long as these establish- ments are kept cautiously veiled from the public eye, those who conduct them have no right to complain if sus- picions are entertained that what is concealed is something which open examination w^ould hold up to blame. It was with this view that the Archbishop lent himself, heart and hand, to the efforts made to procure a general inspection, not of convents only, but of all public institu- tions.^ ' The debate to "which allusion is here made took place in the House of Lords on May 9. jEt. C7] LETTER TO MR. SENIOR. 321 CHAPTER XII. 1854-1855. Letters to Mr. Senior on Thackeray's Works, &c. — Publishes the 'Remains' of Bishop Copleston — Letters to Mrs. Arnold — Letter to C. Wale, Esq. — Letter to Mrs. Hill — Letters to Mr. Senior on his ' Sorrento ' Journal — Letter to Mr. Senior on his Review of 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' — Extract from a Letter on ' Slavery' — Publishes the 'Lessons on Morals ' — Letter to Mrs. Hill — Publishes his Edition of ' Bacon's Essays with Annotations ' — Letter to Mrs. Hill — His Illness — Attacked by Paralysis. Of the year 1854 we have few events to record directly connected with the Archbisliop's public or private life. His correspondence will show the subjects principally occupying his mind. He entered with unflagging earnest- ness and lively interest into all that was going on in litera- ture or politics, and continued to write new works and revise new editions of former ones, and find time for ex- tensive correspondence, without relaxing in his incessant attention to the special work of his diocese. The first letter before us in this year contains a criti- cism on his friend Mr. Senior's Eeview of Thackeray's Works, now published in a volume under the title of ' Essays on Fiction.' 'January 13, 1854. ' My dear Senior, — I think some censure should have been passed on Thackeray's sneer (cited at p. 209) against piety and charity. He might have been asked whether he knew many instances (or any) of a person utterly desti- tute of all principle, and thoroughly selfish, being " the fast friend " of the destitute poor. Such will, on some grand occasion, make a handsome donation, and join when 322 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TfHATELY. [1854 solicited in a bazaar ; but a life habitually devoted to sucli works is not consistent with such a ch-aracter ; at least, I never knew an instance. And he implies that it is quite common and natural. The truth seems to be that he lias about as good a notion of moral qualities as the heraldic painter had of a lion, who when he saw a real one was convinced it was a trick put upon him ; he had been painting lions, he said, all his life, and he knew that was not one. ' I suppose Ministers will escape having much attention called to the Education Board, by the Turks ; as one may be freed from the pain of a sore finger by the amputation of a hand. And perhaps again the Eeform Bill will suffice to smother the Turkish question.' He was now engaged on a volume of remains of his lamented friend Bishop Copleston. To this he alludes in the following letter : — 'Dul'lin: January 28, 1854. ' My dear Mrs. Arnold, — An old baclielor in my father's neighbourhood used to tell with great exultation a story of a pair of canary-birds he had long kept in a cage, and which never sang. One morning he was surprised to hear the cock in full song ; and .on looking into the cage, the poor hen was seen lying dead. I hope the case of is not analogous, and that her versifying powers are not limited, like the canary's song, to a state of celibacy. ' If you mean to read my publication, you must read the Memoir of Bishop Copleston already published (and which does really contain interesting matter, especially two letters to me, each worth the price of the whole volume), since, though I could perhaps have done it better, I cannot now ignore the book and write as if it did not exist, but must make references to it, which is a disad- vantage, but unavoidable. ' I find it harder work than writing an original book. But competent judges think what has been done very interesting.' ^T. 67] LETTER TO C. WALE^ ESQ. 323 To Charles Wale, ' February 18, 1854. ' My dear Charles, — It is the tendency of the Calvin- istic school to represent man in his natural state as totally without moral sense, or as even having a preference for evil for its own sake ; not considering that (as is remarked in one of the " Cautions ") this destroys not only virtue but vice. When was a little girl, she rebuked a great tame gull we had, who was bolting a large fish, saying, " Don't fill your mouth too full I" She had been taught that for a little girl this was bad manners. ' It is curious to see Paley, who was far from Calvin- istic, taking the same view ! ' One might ask one of these moral teachers, " Do you think it right to obey the Divine will ?" I don't mean merely pruderd, for it might be prudent to deliver your purse to a robber holding a pistol at your head ; but do you think that Grod has a just claim to your obedience ? For if you do, then to say that it is morally right" to obey Him, and yet that all our notions of morality are derived from our notions of His will, is just to say that what He commanded is — what He has commanded ! ' To Mrs, Hill 'June 9, 18o4. . . . * Those "fragmentary writers," as Bishop Copleston observes, men whose wealth may be said to consist in gold- dust — who deal in striking insulated passages of wisdom, or wit, and in mysterious hints of what wonderful systems they could construct, if they had leisure — are, as he ob- serves, greatly overrated. Some are led to form expecta- tions from them destined not to be realised till February 30, and others give them credit for being at least unri- valled in their own department. Now, if you should prove to the world that such writers can be rivalled by selections from one of a far different stamp — that the shreds and parings of some complete treatises can furnish almost as T 2 324 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1854 mucli gold-dust as those can produce whose gold is only dust — you will have accomplished much. ' The great Montrose on one occasion had to engage with a very superior force ; and he put nearly all his soldiers into the wings, having nothing in his centre but a great deal of brushwood, with a score or two of men popping their heads out of bushes, which kept the enemy in check, who took these for the main army. Is not this something like the procedure of these " fragmentary writers " ? ' Mr. Senior had sent the Archbishop a portion of a journal he had written during his stay at Sorrento. He was in the habit of recording conversations he had held with various distinguished persons; and in this portion were notes of several which had taken place between him and M. de TocqueviUe, on the respective merits of the ministers of the Eoman Catholic and Protestant Churches. On these conversations the Archbishop makes the follow- ing remarks : — ♦ July 24, 1854. ' My dear Senior, — It is but very lately that I have had leisure to look at a small portion of your Sorrento journal. I am greatly surprised at the record of some of your conversations with TocqueviUe. He seems to have greatly mystified you ; for though he probably believed a good deal more than was true, he could hardly have be- lieved all that he said. And you seem, according to the most obvious interpretation of your words, to have assented to much, and also added much, contrary not only to facts, but to your own knowledge of facts. * I suppose you did not really mean — though most would so understand you — that all Protestant ministers are worldly and interested men, and that Eoman Catholic priests are all disinterested and heavenly-minded ; or that Eoman Catholics do not consider what they call " heresy " as " destructive," but regard it with tender compassion ; or that hatred for erroneous or supposed erroneous and ^T. 67] LETTER TO MR. SEXIOR. 325 mischievous tenets, which is so apt to degenerate into personal animosity, does so degenerate among all Protest- ants and no Eoman Catholics ? You are acquainted with several Protestant clergymen, though not with a twentieth as many as I am, but enough, I shoidd think, to know as well as I do that there are good, bad, and indifferent among them, as in other professions. But as for what relates to the respective Churches, as such, the impression anyone would derive from the most obvious sense of the language used is just the reverse of the truth. There is a little penny tract by Napoleon Eoussel widely circulated in France, and which no one ever did or can answer — though the Koman Catholics would of course be very glad if they could — called " La Eeligion de I'Argent," exposing the established and sanctioned system of traffic which is peculiar to the Eomish and Grreek Churches — a traffic in the sale of Masses, Eelics, Indulgences — in short, i^oyatfoi/rsy iropta/JLov slvai ttjv svas^sLav. ' Then as for tender compassion felt by Eoman Catho- lics towards heretics, it is shown here by pelting, beating, and sometimes murdering them, refusing to employ them, refusing to sell to them any article, &c. In some of the workhouses the persecution has been so fierce that all Protestants who would not give up their faith have gone out in a body, to take their chance of begging or starving ontside rather than endure it any longer. And no legal redress can be obtained ; because those who are eye- witnesses of the most violent outrages either luill not or dare not give evidence. ' Perhaps you may think all this appertains to the Irish as such. I, however, know something of the treat- ment which Protestants receive in Italy and in France. ' Now, Protestants, it must be admitted, are often violent and bitter, often avaricious or ambitious, &c., and Eoman Catholics often the reverse. But the difference is this : on the one side you have gardens often sadly overrun with weeds ; there are nettles in the cabbage plot, and groundsel among the celery beds, and so on. On the other hand, you have a garden laid out in noxious plants ; there 326 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1854 are beds of nettles and parterres of thistles. A Roman Catholic who does not seek to extirpate heretics by force, if fair means fail, is transgressing the regular deliberate decrees of his Church (look at the first article in the July number of the " Irish Church Journal " which is very well and fairly written). ' I wonder you should have apparently acquiesced in the very shallow defence by Tocqueville of the celibacy of the clergy as qualifying them for the Confessional. Could he have been ignorant, or could you, that in the G-reek Church, where there is confession also, the clergy must be married men ? or would he have supposed that a priest's niece would be less likely to be made a confidant than a wife ? or would either of you doubt that if the experiment were tried, and priests allowed to marry, all decent women would choose a married confessor ? ' As for the real cause of the greater interest in reli- gion among the Protestant laity, you may see it clearly set forth in the "Cautions," No. 18, p. 341. The Eoman Catholic priest is to the people what the lawyer is to his client^ and the physician to the patient ; the Protestant minister is to his people what the lawyer and physician are to the legal and medical pupil.' Mr. Senior in his answer suggested some explanation of the remarks he had made, which he had never intended as conceding so much to Romanism as they had appeared to the Archbishop to do. ♦ Dublin : August 4, 1854. ' My dear Senior, — I do think some such explanation as you allude to might as well be inserted in your journal. If you had recorded nothing at all of your own remarks, the whole would have appeared merely as a " mirror" showing what was said by another. But, as things stand now, the impression conveyed is something considerably different from what I conceive to be your real meaning. I believe that sometimes a ^partial knowledge of some country misleads more than utter ignorance. " Per in- ^Et. G7] MR. senior's REVIEW OF ' UNCLE TOM.' 327 certam lunam, sub luce maligna," may, in some respects, be worse than pitch-darkness. I have no doubt that a large proportion of the educated Eoman Catholics on the Continent have no hostility to Protestants. But there are enough of them who have, or pretend to have, such hos- tility, to make them leaders of the vulgar, who are, many of them, fierce zealots. Probably, the Eoman ma- gistrates at Philippi had no hostility of their own to Chris- tianity, but they were willing to earn popularity by scourg- ing Paul and Silas.' The following extract from a letter written about this time is characteristic : — ' What you and I think about asking for a bishopric is not I believe in • accordance with the opinions of most Ministers. They cannot of course comply with every one's request ; but they don't seem to think it makes against him. I have often openly said, in presence of those whom I knew to have asked, that such a request must be understood to mean one of two things : ( 1 ) Ap- point me as the fittest man, for which you must take my word, as my trumpeter is dead ; or (2) though I am not the fittest man, yet give me the preference, and I will show you the more gratitude.' The following is a criticism of a Review of ' Uncle Tom ' which had just appeared : — • Dublin : November 23, 1854. ' My dear Senior, — It is a pity your article should have been delayed, as a good part of it is likely to have lost in interest. Still there will be much that will remain in- teresting; but some things perhaps may be dangerous. To set forth the dislike and jealousy of the English among a certain portion of the French, and their aversion to the war, may tend to increase those evils. I suppose you read at the time the article in the " North British Review " on " Uncle Tom." That contains most of what I have to say 328 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1854 on the subject. A subsequent article on Slavery, in the same, contains a few more of my suggestions. The former has a good many, and some few important ones from Bishop Hinds. Shall I try and procure for you the orig-inal MS. of the article ? It contains one-third or one-fourth more than was printed ; some valuable parts being excluded for want of room. ' When you speak of the work being more popular than Homer, Shakespeare, &c., you leave out of account their permanence. Some very pleasant wines, for the time, will not keep like Hock. ' But the present popularity is certainly a wonderful phenomenon. No one cause will account for it. (1.) It certainly is a work of great power. The author has shown that she can't m'ite other things as well. But I do not know that her other productions are more inferior to it than the worst of Sir W. Scott's to his best. (2.) It re- lates to a very interesting subject. Many of the readers in England have friends settled in the United States, and the rest can easily fancy themselves living there in the midst of slaves, and perhaps themselves slave-owners. (3.) It gives a picture which most people believe, and I conceive with good reason to be true. The answers it called forth, the testimony of many eminent Americans, and the docu- ments published in " the Key " all go to confirm the truth. ' Only t'other day I heard a man repeat the argiunent of the " Times," that self-interest is a sufficient security ; as in the case of cattle, where, by the bye, it is so little a security that we have a law against cruelty to them. But even the most humane master of cattle treats them in a manner which one could not approve towards men, e.g. selling most of the calves that a cow bears ; and knocking on the head a horse that is past work. I suggested that it would be an advantage to slaves if the masters could acquire a taste for human flesh. When a negro grows too old to be worth keeping for work, instead of being killed by inches by starvation and over-work, he would be put up to fatten like an ox. Both the above arguments are fully met in that article.' jEt, 67] EXTRACT FKOM A LETTER OX SLAVERY. 329 Extract from a Letter on the subject of Slavery, ' I was once in a friend's house (the Coplestons' ) where a lady who was visiting rebuked me for saying something against slavery, asking whether I had ever been in the West Indies. I said no ; but that I was intimate with many West Indians. She said I could not be any ju^ge. She had spent six weeks in Jamaica with her friend Mr. Smith or Mr. Jones, and she could testify that the slaves were well treated and very happy, and far better off than the poor of this country. ]Miss C. Copleston, who had much sly humour, observed to her, " Your friend Mr. Smith was a remarkably kind-hearted, good man, was he not ? " " Oh, yes ! most singularly so." We exchanged glances, but left her contented with her supposed proof. ' It is often overlooked that there is a peculiar difficulty in giving such moral lessons to slaves as shall be consistent with slave-constitutions. ' E.g. how would you exhort a slave to abstain from pil- fering or fairly running away with all the property he can lay hold of? Most would say, Teach him that theft is a sin. Granted : but he will deny that it is theft. It is enemy's property, and fair spoil. He is not a member of the community. It is a hostile one. ' Think' St thou -we will not sally forth To spoil the spoiler as we may, And from the robber rend the prey ! ' His master has stolen him, or at least is a receiver. And he will ask whether, if you were taken prisoner by bandits, and either kept by them or transferred by them to others, though you might be deterred by fear in some cases from attempting to escape, you would feel any scruple of conscience, any doubt of the right, to seize on anything of theirs you might need, mount their best horses, and ride off ? ' Such is the slave's case. You cannot prove that he has not a fair right to anything (including himself) belonging 330 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1855 to his master, or to any other member of the community which is thus hostile to him. ' It is not coveting one'sneighbour's goods to sue another for damages for false imprisonment. ' Hence it is that most missionaries, except the Mora- \ians,^ have made slaves discontented and rebellious. For when men acquire any notion of justice, they apply it most readily to others.' The year 1855 was also an uneventful one. The Arch- bishop paid a short visit to London, but took little part in what was going on. He was at this time much engaged with the ' Lessons on Morals,' which followed those on the British Constitution. He was always strongly of opinion that the moral sense and perceptions of right and wrong required as careful cultivation as any of the intellectual powers ; and that though Christian principle supplied the motive, the perceptions, even in those who are truly ac- tuated by such motives, are liable to become blunt or to be perverted, if not carefully regulated and directed. Con- science, if ill regidated, will not only fail to guide us right, but will positively guide us wrong, as with those spoken of in Scripture who were ' given up to a strong delusion.' To help his readers fully to understand and profit by the teaching of the Xew Testament, and to educate their moral perceptions, was the object of this little book. 'Dublin: Januarj' 2, 1855. ' My dear Mrs. Hill, — I don't know whether you ever heard my remark that the organ of Conscientiousness is the only one that never in its exercise affords any direct gratification. The organ of Love of approbation gives much pleasure when we are praised, as well as pain when we are blamed or unnoticed ; the organ of Secretiveness makes those in whom it is strong (I speak from my obser- * He often remarked, that tlie argument used commonly by the Moravian missionaries, and also by the apostles, to keep slaves from purloining vras the only one which could be valid -with them, i.e. they should abstain, in order not to bring reproach on the Christian name. .Ex. G8] LETTER TO MRS. HILL. 331 vation of others) feel a delight in mystifying. That of Number, as I well remember when I had it strong, about sixty years ago, affords great pleasure in the mere act of calculating ; and so of the rest. But Conscientiousness, which gives great pain to one in whom it is strong, if he at all goes against it, affords no direct pleasure when com- plied with. It merely says. You have paid yoar debt ; you are " an unprofitable servant." And when you have triumphed nobly over some strong temptation, the pleasure — if it can be so called — is just that which you feel at ha\'ing reached the shore from a strong sea, or narrowly escaped slipping down a precipice. It is the pleasure of mere safety as contrasted with a shocking disaster. ' But, indirectly. Conscientiousness affords pleasure ; and this is what leads people to speak of delight in vir- tue, &c. ' It is to a conscientious man the necessary condition of all other qualifications. It is what the mosquito net (or canopy, KoyveoTrslov) is in hot climates. It affords no direct pleasure, but enables you to enjoy sweet sleep. ' But a benevolent man is gratified in doing good ; and because well-directed benevolence is a virtue, he is apt to fancy this is a delight in virtue as such. But it is the organ of Benevolence that is gratified. And if he stands firm against solicitations and threats in a good cause, it is the organ of Firmness that affords the pleasure ; and so of the rest. Especially to a pious Christian there is always an indirect gratification in doing his duty, through the organ of Veneration ; for this, where it is strong, affords directly a high degree of gratification. Aristotle remarks this, saying that Admiration (to dav/id^sLv) is in itself pleasurable. I think if he had known the Grospel he would have been a pious Christian.' The Archbishop was this jea.v engaged on his edition of ' Bacon's Essays with Annotations.' Mrs. Hill was em- ployed by him to assist in arranging references, &c., a work for which her accurate habits and extensive reading peculiarly fitted her. 332 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1855-G 'August 24, 1855. ' My dear Mrs. Hill, — I particularly wish for your opinion of what I have said in p. 54 ; and I should like the Bishop's ^ also, if you think he is well enough. The man was one in high repute : but what he said on that occasion gave me somewhat the impression of hmnbug. ' You will see that I have referred to various works of my own, and some of others, for extracts, which it should be part of your task to make with omissions of such pas- sages as are not to the purpose. ' That and the arrangement and correction of the Notes I am writing, and suggestions for more, and foot-notes explanatory of Bacon's obsolete words and phrases, and a translation of the Antitheta, will be a considerable job for you. ' Yours very truly^ ' Ed. Dublin.' The year 1856 was one of some trial to the Archbishop. It began with an attack of inflammation of the tongue. But he was now beginning to experience a warning of a more serious character, in a symptom of ' creeping pa- ralysis ' in the left arm and leg, which was now declaring itself. The shaking of the left hand continued to increase, and from this time forth never left him except in sleep ; and the pain occasioned in the whole arm by this involun- tary muscular motion was at times very severe. The diffi- culty of steadying the paper on which he wrote affected his handwriting ; and that clear, round, bold caligraphy now began to show somewhat of the tremulousness of age. It was to the last more legible than that of many persons in their best days, and exemplified the advantage of the strenuous pains he had taken in this often-neglected branch. He always said it was ' a mark of selfishness ' to write an illegible hand. But the alteration which growing infirmity made in his writing was painfully felt by him ; and from this time he made use as much as possible of an ' The Bishop of Cork, Dr. James Wilson. ATTACKED BY PARALYSIS. 3.33 amanuensis, latterly even in the ' Commonplace Book.' Dictation was never a painful effort to him ; he performed it with clearness and accuracy as well as rapidity, and would often dictate a short article or memorandum on some interesting point while sitting at the breakfast table. It has been often affirmed that he refused all medical aid in his latter days. That he was a firm and decided adherent of homoeopathy, all are aware ; and this treat- ment was always adopted by him in illness, though with very Httle real confidence in any medicine as far as he himself was concerned. But it having been suggested that some of the foreign baths might be beneficial to this paraiyuc affection, he consulted the late celebrated Sir Philip Crampton, then surgeon-general, who gave it as his decided opinion, that neither mineral waters nor any other medical treatment could in any way check the pro- gress of the disease, and that all that could be done was to keep up the strength by diet and general care. His literary activity remained undiminished. He was constantly making additions to new editions of his works, and composing a fresh series of Easy Lessons, or superin- tending literary undertakings of friends or members of his own family. 334 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1857 CHAPTER XIIL 1857-1859. Appointment of Dr. Fitzgerald to the See of Cork — Letter to Mr. Duncan — Letter to Mr. Senior on openino; Places of Public Recreation on Sundays — Death of the Rev. Henry Bishop — Letter to Miss Crabtree — Letter to Mrs. Hill — Letter to Mr. Senior — Meeting of the British Association at Dublin — Interested in Dr. Livingstone's Plans — Accident to the Arch- bishop— His great Interest in Missions — Dangerous Illness of his eldest Grandchild — Visit of Mr. Senior — Extracts from his Journal — Letter to Mr. Senior on 'Book grants' from the Education Board — Letter to Miss Crabtree on the Revival Movement — His Family Bereavements — Death of his youngest Daughter — Death of Mrs. Whately — Letters to Miss Crabtree and Dr. Hinds — Breaking up of his Family Circle — Spends the Summer with i\Ir. Senior — Letter to Mrs. Arnold. In the beginning of this year (1857) the Archbishop had the pleasure of seeing his valued friend and chaplain, Dr. Fitzgerald, appointed to the see of Cork in the place of Dr. Wilson. 'Dublin: January 27, 1857. ' My dear Duncan, — I was very glad to receive from you a letter written in as firm a hand as you wrote, when I first became acquainted with you, forty-five years ago, which is more than could be said of most. You have the glory of being the first to bring Fitzgerald into notice ; he has from me a print of you to worship as his patron saint. Most people give me the credit, or discredit, of having obtained the bishopric for him and for Dickinson, by making interest with Government ; I never said a word for either of them or anyone else, and I wiH beg of you to say so to anyone who may be under this mistake. There is a great advantage that the benevolent have over the selfish as they grow old ; the latter, seeking only their JEt. 70] LETTER TO MR. SEXIOR. 335 own advantage, cannot escape the painful feeling that any advantage they procure for themselves can last but a short time, but one who has been ahvays seeking the good of others has his interest kept up to the last, because he of course wishes that good may befall them after he is gone.' The question of opening places of public recreation on Sundays was now under discussion ; and the Archbishop wrote the following letter to Mr. Senior on the subject : — ' February 25, 1857. ' My dear Senior, — If your Sabbath question comes on for discussion, you may as well look at what I have said on a part of the subject, in an address to the people of Dublin, which is appended to the last two editions of my " Thoughts on the Sabbath." There is nothing in it which is not, I suppose, familiar to you ; but it may not be to all. There is a distinction which should be noticed be- tween handicraft-work and shops. A man can certainly (if he does not overwork himself) saw more planks in seven days than in six. But there would not be more goods sold if shops were open seven days. One shop- keeper might indeed gain an advantage over his rivals, if he alone kept open shop on Sundays ; but if all did it, no one would gain. I have often thought that if old clothes- men, &c., were allowed to ply only on one day in the week, all would be benefited, except indeed the sellers and buyers of stolen goods. There would not be fewer old coats or hareskins sold per week than now. ' When I lived in Suffolk, the farmers all agreed that there should be no gleaning allowed till eight o'clock, at which time a bell was tolled to give notice. This was a benefit to all, when enforced on all ; for the women had time to dress their children, and give them their breakfast, &c., and there was just as much corn gleaned. But if the rule had not been enforced on all, one might have gone out at daybreak and forestalled all the rest. ' Do you know what ministers mean to do about trans- portation ? A Mr. Pearson, who takes my view and that 33G LIFE OF AECHBISHOP T^HATELY. [1857 of Mr. Hill, the Eecorder of Birmingham, and has exerted himself in the cause, has published a pamphlet which is worth your looking at.' This year was saddened to the Archbishop by the death of one of his oldest and most valued friends, his brother- in-law, the Eev. Henry Bishop, with whom he had been on terms of close and affectionate intimacy for many years, and whose high qualities of heart and mind he sincerely esteemed. The correspondence with this friend was very full and frequent ; but, as in the case of Dr. Arnold, the letters have not been preserved, and no record therefore remains of many letters probably containing matter of deep in- terest. ' April 18, 1857. ' My dear ^Irs. Hill, — It is not our identity we should lose by oblivion, but the consciousness of it ; which alone makes us care about it. ' You cannot doubt that it was really you that suffered in your babyhood from cutting yom- first teeth, but you have no memory of it. And if we could as completely lose all memory of our whole life, like Virgil's ghosts, who were dipped in Lethe (^xEn, though reason would tell us that it would be zee who should afterwards enjoy or suffer, we could not bring our feelings to acknowledge it. . The sermon might be entitled " The Use of an Educated ]Ministry,'' or " Mental Culture required for Christian Ministers," or " Human Learning employed in the Cause of Eeligion." ' Few passages of Scripture are oftener cited than "those who sleep in Jesus but it is an utter mistranslation, as you will at once perceive, though happily it leads to no error in doctrine. " Without God in the world," is another passage which is often cited, though in a mistaken sense. It means that it was the adtoi that were "in theicorldy^ i. e, the heathen world. ' Ever truly vours, ' K. W.' .Et. 70] LETTER TO MR. SEXIOR. 337 ' August 7, 1857. ' My dear Senior, — On receiving your letter I procui'ed the " North British Eeview." I agree with you in some- what wondering that they received your article ; because, beside other reasons, the preface to my Bacon shows up some of their writing. But this they probably overlooked. I think it not unlikely your article will be read and approved by some who, if it had appeared in the " Edin- burgh," might have never seen it, or if they did, would have disliked it. ' Considering how many religious communities there are in England, all of Dissenters, and that all Protestants are Dissenters from the Roman Chm'ch, and revolted subjects, it is no wonder that the ideas of independence, and of dis- agreement, and schism should be associated in men's minds, and that it should be taken for granted that the only alternative is, on the one side, union under one government, and on the other, differences of doctrine. But there is no necessary connexion between the things thus, through custom, associated in the thoughts. (See Lesson x. § 4, on Eeligious Worship.) ' The American Episcopal Church is kept distinct from ours, not by opposition in doctrine, but simply by being American. And the Swedish and Danish Churches, which are subject to no common authority on earth, do not, I believe, differ at all. The Apostles, who certainly did not seek to introduce diversity of doctrine, founded many distinct independent churches (agreeing, I presiune, with you, that the union of vast masses of people in one com- munity is inexpedient) even in the same province ; as Tbessalonica and Philippi in Macedonia, &c. And in early times there must have been hundreds of such churches, distinct, but not opposed. ' But a disagreement on points purely speculative is probably a benefit, when it so happens that the persons in question would — but for such disagreement — have thought themselves bound to live imder one government on earth.' z 338 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TVHATELY. [1857-58 In the August of this year the British Association held its annual meeting in Dublin. The Archbishop, as he had done in Belfast in 1852. superintended the department of the * Statistical Society/ of which he had so long been president. But he always res^retted that the arrange- ments of the Association prevented his attendance on any but his own department, and often expressed a wish that the different sections could be so ordered as to occupy different diiys or horns, so as to permit those specially engaged in different departments to attend those of other bnmches, and thus avoid that exclusiveness which atten- tion to one branch of knowledge alone is liable to produce. His own tastes were far removed from this exclusiveness ; he took an interest in almost every department of science, and constantlv attended the meeting's of the Zooloodcal, Natural History, Ethnological, and other societies. In the visit of Dr. I^\'ingstone, who took a part this year in the meetings of the British Association, the Arch- bishop took a lively interest, and entered warmly into his plans for civilising the South African tribes. In the early part of the year 1858 he had an acci- dent in which he narrowly escaped being unfitted for future exertion in the way of public speaking or preaching. He had been receiving a visit from the eminent American missiouEury at Constantinople (since deceased). Dr. Dwight, whose account of his work had greatly interested him. He rose before Dr. D. left, to look for a copy of the Armenian translation of his ' Lessons on the Evidences of Christianity,' which he wished to present to him, when his foot caught in the carpet in crossing the room ; he was tripped up and fell with much violence to the ground. At tirst it was apprehended that all his front teeth would have been lost ; but by gieat care the evil was averted. His interest in foreign missionary work was very lively and constant. His own ' Lessons on Evidences' had already, as has been observed, been translated into many different languages, and he was ever ready to help in the work of getting them printed and circulated. His active and efficient support of the venerable So- J£j. 71] HIS GKEAT INTEREST MISSIONS. 339 ciety for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, a branch of which he first established in Ireland, is well known ; but his interest in the labours of missionaries was not confined to his own communion. In the labours of Dr. Livingstone in Africa, as before observed, and of !Mr. Ellis in Madagascar, he was greatly interested ; and his support and countenance were always heartily g-iven to the missions of the Moravians. He often remarked that they, of all others, worked the most successfully among the savage heathen ; and that they seemed emi- nently to have succeeded in the difficult task of evangelis- ing slaves, without tempting them to revolt against their masters. Not less constant and active was his sympathy and interest in the AValdenses, and his testimony to the pru- dence and Christian meekness and forbearance which they united with such resolute courage and endurance through- out their whole history, was always very strong. The Archbishop took the chair at a meeting of the Patagonian or South American Missionaiy Society, and warmly advocated its claims. He pointed out that in- struction in the elements of civilisation must ever accom- pany the introduction of Christianity — for a savage, as such, could not understand what Christianity meant. One who cannot be made to believe in to-morrow can hardly be expected to look to a future state. But by pointing out to savages advantages which they can understand and value, in the common arts of life, they may be led more willingly to attend to the teaching of those who can show them the way of salvation. He was now engaged in preparing an edition of Paley's ' Moral Philosophy,' with annotations. He heartily appre- ciated Paley's excellences ; but he was strongly alive to the danger of following his system of morals, which he considered as, in fact, disallowing the moral faculty in man. His chief object in publishing these annotations was to put readers on their guard with respect to this danger. He took as lively an interest in writing and arranging z 2 340 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1858 these annotations, as in composing an entirely original work ; and bestowed indefatigable pains on the compilation of the shortest note. In this year, while his son-in-law's family were again his guests, his liveliest feelings of affection were called forth by the dangerous illness of his eldest grandchild from typhus fever. In no common degree attached to all these little ones, this firstborn had been the object of special and almost passionate affection ; and his son-in-law remembered afterwards frequently finding him alone and engaged in earnest prayer for the preservation of this beloved child, with marks of the strongest emotion. His feelings were so seldom outwardly manifested that they seemed all the more intense when the veil was for a moment torn down and their depth and strength betrayed to others. Mr. Senior again paid a visit to his old friend in the autumn of this year, and again we insert some extracts from his journal : — Extracts from Mr, Senior's Journal. 'Nov. 13, 1858. ' My wife's maid told her this morning that my brother's coachman, a zealous Komanist, had asked her whether she believed the Apostles' Creed. ' Of course she answered " Yes." ' " Then," he said, " you believe in the Holy Catholic Church, and you ought to obey it ; and you believe in the communion of saints, and you ought to pray to them." ' " I did not know how to answer him," said she, " and in fact I am not sure what is the meaning of those w^ords." ' I mentioned to the Archbishop her difficulty. ' " I understand," he answered, " the second branch of the sentence to be merely an explanation of the first, and read the wliole thus: 'I believe in the Holy Catholic Church ' — that is to say — ' I believe in the communion of saints.' In the early times in w^hich that creed was com- posed, the word 'saint' was used as opposed to 'heathen.' JEt. 71] EXTRACTS FROM MR. SENIOR'S JOURNAL. 341 It meant no! a person of peculiar sanctity, but simply a professor of Christianity. All that the creed declares is tlie existence of a Christian communion, or, to use a more modern word, of a Christian community — a body of which Christ is the Head ; and all who believe in Him, however distinguished by varieties of belief in other respects, Pro- testants and Eoman Catholics, Trinitarians and Arians, Latins and Grreeks, whether living or dead, are the mem- bers. At the same time, I regret that the word Catholic is used in the creed, or rather I regret that we have acquiesced in its assumption by the Romanists. ' " We qualify it by adding the word ' Roman but that destroys its meaning. ' " It indicates, however, the confusion of the ideas which the Romanists endeavour to attach to the word ' catholic' They claim both unity and universality. Now, if the Catholic Church is universal — that is, if it com- prehends all Christians — then we and the Greeks are as Catholic as the Romanists are, and there is no unity. If tlie Catholic Church includes only those who assent to the conclusions of the Council of Trent, then we and the Grreeks — in fact, the majority of Christians — are excluded from it, and there is no universality. ' " It is clear," he continued, " that a Catholic Church, in the Romanist sense, did not exist even in the first years of Christianity ; dissensions, and even heresies, disturbed the churches addressed by St. John and by St. Paul ; and the remedy suggested by St. Paul is not a recourse to any human authority — to any living depositary of infallibility, but ' watchfulness' — that is, earnest enquiry, the very con- duct which Rome forbids." ' " I find," I said, "that it is not true that, in this war of conversion, the gain and loss are balanced. Your daughters tell me that the number of converts to Pro- testantism is large, and that to Roman Catholicism very small ; but that the former belong to the lower classes, the latter to the gentry." ' " All that is true," he answered, " and it seems strange that the converts to Roman Catholicism should belong to 342 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1858 the most educated — to the class which has been most taught to reason. ' " But, in fact, it is not by reasoning that they are converted. The Roman Catholic Church does not appeal to reason, but to authority ; and she does not allow even the grounds of her authority to be examined. They are converted through their imagination or their feelings ; they yield to the love of the beautiful, the ancient, the picturesque. Afterwards, indeed, they sometimes try to defend themselves by reasoning; but that is as if a jurj^ should first deliver their verdict, and then hear the evidence." ' " One friend of mine," I said, " told me that he was converted by reasoning. He could find no medium, he said, between believing the gospels to be mere human, uninspired records of our Saviours doctrines, and believing that the inspiration which protected the evangelists from error is still given to the successors of St. Peter, and to the Church over which they preside." ' " That might be reasoning," said the x\rchbishop, '•but it is bad reasoning. If it were possible that he could prove that there is no better evidence of the inspi- ration of St. Luke than there is of the inspiration of the Pope, he still would not have advanced a step towards proving the Pope to be inspired. Such, however, are the shifts to which those who are in search of infallibility are forced to have recourse. They cannot deny that the primitive Church was infested by errors, even in the times of the apostles. They cannot deny that, if there was an infallible interpreter of Christianity, the Apostles must have known of his existence, and were bound to point him out to their churches ; and they cannot affirm that they did so." ' The Archbishop has been reading my journal. ' " The picture of the priests," he said, " is melancholy, but, 1 fear, faithful; and we, the English people, are answerable for much of their perverseness. When Lord Grenville was congratulated on the approach of Catholic Emancipation — a measure which he had always supported .^:t. 71] EXTRACTS FEOM MR. SENIOR'S JOURIS^AL. 343 — he refused to rejoice in it. ' You are not going to pay the priests,' he said, ' and therefore you will do more harm than good by giving them mouthpieces in Parlia- ment.' A priest, solely dependent on his flock, is in fact retained by them to give the sanction of religion to the conduct, whatever it be, which the majority chooses. The great merit of ' Dred ' is the clearness with which this is exemplified in the Slave States. What can be more un- christian than slavery, unless indeed it be assassination ? And yet a whole clergy, of different denominations, agree- ing in nothing but that they are maintained on the volun- tary system, combine to support slavery. ' " Notwithstanding the evils of religious controversy, I rejoice in the conversions, which, together with emigra- tion, are altering the proportion of the numbers of the two sects. ' " Though your friends, here," he continued, " who see and feel the evils of the Lord-Lieutenancy, may be unani- mous as to its abolition, I doubt whether it is equally disapproved in England. England has no experience of the state of feeling in Ireland. There is no party there against the Queen, no party opposed to the executive as the executive. Here, in Ireland, with every change of Ministry we have a change of sovereign, and the party opposed to the Ministry for the time being is opposed to the Lord-Lieutenant, and does everything to make his ad- ministration unpopular and unsuccessful.'' ' " They are equally opposed," I said, " to the English Prime Minister and to the English Home Office." ' " Yes," he answered, " but they have not the same power to make their opposition tell. The Lord-Lieutenant lives among them ; they can worry and tease him. He is a hostage, given by the Ministry to their enemies. If he likes popularity, or even dislikes censure, he tries to con- ciliate, or at least to avoid irritating his opponents. The Irish Grovernment therefore is generally timid. It some- times does what it ought not to do, and still more fre- quently does not do what it ought to do. If Ireland were governed from the English Home Office, would the poor 344 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1858 father and mother whose child was stolen from them from the Castle Knock National School have been treated with such bitter mockery ? Would a man earning 10s. a week have been told that the remedy was to spend oOl. in siieing out a Habeas Corpus ? ' People talk about the laborious duties of the office. I know what they are, for I have often been a Lord-Justice. Half an hour a week performs them : and I never heard that Ireland was peculiarly ill-governed under the Lord- Justices, or in fact that the want of the Lord-Lieutenant was perceived. I have known several Lord-Lieutenants who worked hard, but they made almost all the business that they did. They were squirrels working in a cage. There is no use in sweeping a room if all the dust comes out of the broom. The only persons who would be really inconvenienced by the change would be the half-dozen tradesmen who now supply the Lodge and the Castle. ' " But I can propose an indemnity even for them. Mj hope is, that one day the great absentee will return — that the Queen will be an Irish resident. The short visits of Her Majesty — for less than a week at a time — only excite the people of Dublin, make them mad for two or three days, and have no results. I wish her to live among us for live or six weeks at a time, to know us and to be known — I really believe that this would make the people loyal. ' " There can be no loyalty — at least no personal loyalty — to a mere idea, to a person who is never seen. Ireland now looks upon itself as a province ; it does not realise — to use an Americanism — that it as much a part of the empire as Scotland is — it is always thinking of an Irish policy. I will not say that the Queen's annual residence in Scotland has much to do with the loyalty of the Scotch, or with their looking on Great Britain as a whole, but I cannot doubt that it has contributed to those feelings." ' ' Nov. 21, 1858. ' We were to have left Redesdale yesterday, but a violent gale from the SW. has raised a sea which we do not choose to encounter. JEt. 71.] EXTRACTS FEOM MR. SEXIOR's JOURNAL. 345 ' I talked to the Archbishop of " The Society for the Protection of the Eights of Conscience," of which he is the founder. ' " It does not attempt," he said, " to protect a man from every sort of persecution ; that is to say, from every sort of annoyance or inconvenience which he may meet with on account of his religion. It leaves the courts of law to defend his person and his property from physical injury, inflicted or threatened. It does not affect to protect him or even indemnify him against much persecution which he may have to suffer, though it may be severe, and though it may be of a kind of which the courts of law can seldom take cognisance ; such as harassing disputations, remon- strances, and solicitations, derision, abuse, and denuncia- tions of Divine wrath. ' " Such annoyances are incidental to religious schism when each party is sincere and jealous. They are to be deplored and endured. An offer of compensation for them would in many cases be a bribe, and in all cases would be an attempt to exempt men from trials to which Providence has subjected us, as tests of sincerity, and as means of ex- hibiting patience, firmness, and faith. All that we can do in this respect is earnestly to enjoin on all within our in- fluence to abstain from inflicting such persecutions, and to submit to them themselves, as an opportunity of showing their hearty devotion to the service of their Master. ' " But there is a third kind of persecution, for which there is no redress by law, and which inflicts physical evils for which patience and faith are no remedies. ' " This persecution is the old excommunication ; it is ' aquae et ignis interdictio ; ' it is the denial of employment, indeed of intercourse. ' " A convert, or even a few converts, surrounded by a hostile population, refused work, refused land, and refused custom, may have to starve, or to have recourse to the poor-house, perhaps to be refused admittance there, per- haps, if admitted, to be exposed to intolerable brutality and indignity. Tliis is a temptation to the weak and a hardship on the strong, which cannot be witnessed or heard 346 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. [1859 of with indifference by anyone who has any feeliiir^ humanity, any sense of justice, or any conscientioTi- \-ictions. As the law is powerless, individuals o: nation of individuals must step in. ^ " It is not as a Protestant or as a convert, or even as a Protestant convert in distress, that anyone receives aid from us, but as an industrious and well-conducted man, who has been excluded from employment, and left t :> starvation, on merely religious grounds. And to aiiyoi>- so circumstanced all who disclaim persecution to give relief, whatever be the ground of h:? whether it be his belief, whether he be e i as a Protestant, a Papist, or an atheists *• " It is because Protestants only are so persecuted that the society assumes in the eyes of the public a Protestant colour. It is in the true sense of the word. Catholic It is open to all who are thus persecuted for conscience sake." ' Of the year 1859 there is but little to record. He was not in Parliament that year ; and with the exception of a short visit to England in the early part, of it, it was spent in his usual diocesan and literary avocations. Lord Wicklow had suggested grants of books being made to schools not under the Board, and on this subject he wrote to Mr. Senior : — 'Dablin: April 14. 1S^9. ' My dear Senior, — As for Lord Wicklow's suggestion, the books of the Board are to be had now, very cheap, and so very little above prime cost, that the difference would not afford any effectual support to any school. ' ^Miy then should this be so e^erly sought ? Evi- dently for the insertion of the thin end of the wedge. It would be a G-ovemment recognition and sanction of de- nominational schools. And soon after, a claim would be made (no unreasonable one ), and granted, for some effec- tual aid to the schools set up in avowed livahy to the National Schools I /Et. 72] LETTER TO MRS. CRARTREE. 347 ' If we were to send the King of Sardinia one company of soldiers to fight against Austria, he would probably be very glad. Not tliat this handful of men could do any valuable service, but we should have sanctioned the war, and engaged in it ; and we should be expected to send, soon after, two or three regiments to support that com- pany, and then a powerful army to support these. ' A camel, according to the Arabian fable, begged leave one cold night to put the tip of his nose inside a tent for warmth ; having got his nose in, he next intruded his head and shoulders, and then his hind quarters ; and then he lay down before the fire, and turned away all the rest. ' I have sent the Bishop of Cork a curious document, an Address from the Eoman Catholic Bishops, claiming a separate grant. He is to have it reprinted, or not, as he may judge best. If he does not, he will send it to you to look at and show your friends. ' Yours ever, To Miss Crahtree, ivlio had ashed his Opinion of the Revival Movement then going on. 'Oct. 10, 1859. ' My dear Miss Crabtree, — The revivals are doing both good and evil. Which will ultimately predominate is more than I can as yet pronounce. Much will depend on the conduct of many persons, most of whom I am unacquainted with. ' I send you the best pamphlets that have appeared. They are by judicious and impartial men. Most of the other publications take a part. They either condemn the whole as an outbreak of frenzy, or proclaim hysterical shrieks and fits as an outpouring of the Holy Spirit. ' Now to me it appears that true Christianity is a very quiet and deliberate religion. It keeps the steam acting on the wheels, instead of noisily whizzing out at the safety valve. ' I cannot tell how I came to send you cuttings of the 348 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [18o9-60 common elder for the scarlet. But what I conjecture is this, I have a common elder grafted with the scarlet, and I suspect that the stock must have sent up a surreptitious shoot which mingled with the branches of the true, and was mistaken for one of them. ' Now this may suggest a useful parable for the present time. When the " natiu'al man" is grafted with true re- ligion (by a revival, or anyhow) we are apt to feel care- lessly confident from the certainty that the graft is of the right sort, and has taken, and is flourishing. But without continual vigilance, shoots from the wild stock will im- perceptibly grow up, and getting intermingled with the branches of the graft will pass for one of them. A tree that is headed down and grafted with a different kind, may be said to have undergone a " new birth," but it is not therefore safe unless it be continually and carefully watched. ' I believe that, besides other evils, the tone of some rash enthusiasts has done much to foster the kind of infidelity now prevailing, which calls itself spiritual Christianity. " You call any remarkable occurrence that favours your views miraculous ; and so no doubt did the Apostles. They reckoned as inspiration any vehement excitement, any strong impression made on men's minds." ' This year was to be the last of his united family life ; his home from thenceforth was to be a desolated one. Hitherto he had been singularly exempt from ordinary domestic bereavements; his elder sisters had, indeed, one by one departed, but their advanced age rendered this an event to be looked for in the course of nature, and his daily life, from his residence in Ireland, had been little affected by the removal of those out of his domestic circle. Some friends very dear and valuable to him had indeed been removed ; but his own home party had been hitherto untouched. But now the time was come for the hand of affliction to be heavily laid on him, and it came in a form peculiarly affecting. His youngest daughter had been married in the November of that year to Captain George .^:t. 73] DEATH OF MRS. WHATELY. S49 Wale, R.X., the brother of his son-in-law Charles Wale, under circumstances offering every promise of a bright future. The family festivity attending the wedding had, indeed, been shadowed with a first touch of sorrow in the sickness and death of a newborn grandchild ; but this was to be the beginning of sorrows. The newly-married pair were to reside in Ireland, and scarcely a month after the marriage they came to spend Christmas under the old family roof at the Palace, on their way to their new abode. Within three days the bride sickened with a fatal illness ; and after ten weeks' acute suffering, the child of so many hopes was carried to her grave (in March 1860) — a bride of scarce four months. But this affliction did not come singly. Another member of the family was threatened with pidmonary symptoms and ordered to avoid the spring east winds of the Dublin coast ; and the bereaved familv accordingly removed to Hastings. There, in the middle of April, one short month after the daughter's death, her mother, worn out with long watching and sorrow, coming on an already over-taxed frame, was carried off by a short but sharp illness of only five days' duration. The bereaved husband and father was, as we have said, not one to show his feelings ; even those nearest to him could only guess at what passed within, and hardly they. He was now becoming very infirm, and could not, as in early days, watch by the invalid. At her own request, the day before her death, he came to read to her the ser- vice for the Visitation of the Sick. He made a strong effort to go through it, but his voice broke down at the first sentence, and he was obliged to give up the book to another. In the midst of his own grief and increasing infirmities, lie found time to write a touching letter to his grandchild in Ireland (his sous eldest daughter) on the departm'e of those two loved ones, exhorting her to follow in their steps.* From his brother-in-law and sister-in-law, who ' This much-prized letter has unhappily fallen into other hands, and cannot therefore be published. 350 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [ISOO-Gl had both hastened to join him, he received the most aiffec- tionate and devoted attention ; for some time he remained imder the roof of the former at Tunbridge Wells. In Jime he insisted, notwithstanding the entreaties of his friends, on returning to Dublin for his visitation and other duties, and went through them more easily than could have been expected. The rest of the summer was spent with his daughter and son-in-law in Cambridgeshire, and in the autumn he returned to Ireland and took up his residence in a smaUer place nearer to Dublin than the former, be- tween which and the Palace he spent the last three years of his life. Of the letters that follow, the first was written a little before the first of these bereavements ; the others later. To Miss Crahtree. ' Dublin : March 2, 1860. ' A bishop who is anxious above all things for a peace- ful life will do well to imitate a bishop whom you remember by sitting still and doing nothing at all. And one who would be popular must ever swim with the stream. But one who is discreet as well as active and conscientious will consider that above half of the e^ils that have ever existed, have arisen from something good in itself and done well, but which has afforded a precedent and an en- couragement to something evil in imitation of it. The Ass, according to the fable (which is one of most extensive application), followed the precedent of the Lapdog. Xelson gained the victory of Copenhagen by disobeying orders. If a few more such instances had occurred, and it had been thence the practice for every subaltern officer and private sailor or soldier who might tliink he knew better than his commander, to collect a party of his comrades, and act as he tliought best, this would before long convert the finest possible army into a rabble of undisciplined guerillas. ' If some period of great excitement had occurred when JEr. 74] LETTER TO BISHOP HIXDS. 351 I was at Haleswortb, and I had thrown myself at once into it without any precaution, I should probably have gained more reputation, and produced more striking efifects, some good and some evil, than by my quiet unpretending ex- planatory lectures in which I laboured night after night, and week after week, in patiently laying on " line upon line, precept upon precept ; here a little and there a little." ' To Bishop Hinds, a few days after his Daughter's death, 'March 10, 1860. ' My dear Hinds, — Vie are friends of fifty years' stand- ing ; and you write like one. ' I ought to dwell on the contrast between your letter and that addressed to Cicero on a similar occasion, by Sulpicius, a kind-hearted friend, and a man of cultivated mind ! May we find grace to think of the blessing bestowed on us I ' But, humanly speaking, the trial is very sharp, to have such a cup of happiness, when just tasted, dashed from the lips. And the eleven weeks of severe suffering to the dear patient, and of painful toil and anxiety to all of us, has broken down the health of the whole party.' To Miss Crabtree he adds, two months later : ' I have faith, on Scripture warrants, in intercessory prayer ; and I am sure you will be ready to pray for us, that we may be supported under these heavy strokes of affliction.' The year 1861 was also marked by much trial ; partly from alarming illness among members of his family, and partly from other causes of grief, which pressed heavily on him. His immediate circle was now a reduced one ; his son-in-law was obliged to remove with his family to the Continent in consequence of ill-health ; another daughter had been previously compelled to reside abroad from the same cause during greater part of the year. Only one daughter therefore remained with him ; but he bore up 352 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1861 through all with characteristic firmness and calm dignity ; and though increasing infirmities might well have fur- nished an excuse for withdrawing from his official duties, the visitation and confirmations were performed as usual. It was touching to see the deep solemnity with which the trembling hands were placed on the young heads ; and, though the fatigue and exhaustion obliged him to pause and rest in the middle of the ceremony, the usual ad- dresses were not omitted, and the voice which had lost much of its full clear tones, still spoke the words of ex- hortation to the young candidat-es with impressive earnest- ness. Xor were his literary occupations discontinued. "Writing was now become painful and difficult ; but he still corrected the proofs of each new edition, and still dic- tated articles for the ' Commonplace Book.* and papers for several magazines to which he occasionally contributed ; and frequently sent memoranda to friends on some subject of interest and importance. Though unequal to much general society, he was able to enjoy a social circle in his own home ; and many will remember the evenings when he would discourse to a few gathered round him, with his wonted life and power of illustration, on a variety of topics of interest, or comment on a passage of some favoiu-ite work he would cause to be read aloud to him; and at the breakfast table he was always full of conversation and ready to enter on the sub- jects of the day or to impart information on various matters, small and great. Part of the summer of this year was passed with his friend ^Ir. Senior in London, and with his relations at Tunbridge Wells ; and the change of scene and society seemed to cheer and interest him. His brother-in-law has preserved some recollections of that time. ' He was always partial,' he writes, to ' Tun- bridge Wells ; and in his latter visits, which continued till within a year of his death, he had pleasiu-e in renewing intercourse with some of his old college friends. ' He had often preached for his brother-in-law in tlie old chapel of ease to large and attentive congregations ; ^T. 74] LETTER TO MRS. ARNOLD. 353 and many will remember the last time he addressed them from that pulpit on August 4, 1861, when from the effect of paralysis of one side he was hardly able to ascend the stairs. ' A mutual esteem existed between him and Archbishop Sumner, and the last time these met was at Timbridge Wells on May 29, 1860, though only to exchange tokens of recognition on each side of the railway platform.' Thus far the recollections of his last \isits to his fa- vourite old resort. The following letter to Mrs. Arnold shows that his intellectual activity was as untiring as ever : — To Mrs. Arnold, 'December 16, 1861. ' My dear Friend, — You must excuse my writing very rarely and very briefly, as it is fatiguing, from the palsy having extended to my right hand. But J will tell you all about us from time to time. ' I am (as the Yankees say) most " powerfully weak." But I am thankful that my intellect does not yet seem much affected ; only I am soon exhausted. The last charge was thought to be equal to any former ones. But it took me as many weeks as it would formerly days. ' To think of such a wreck as I am having survived the poor Prince ! ' He is a great loss to the public. ' Towards riie he was always most gracious. Two or three times I sent him little books of mine for his children, and he always acknowledged them in his own hand.' 354 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1862 CHAPTEE XIV. 1862—1863. Suffers from Neuralgic Gout— Attends the Session of the Statistical Society, and contributes a Paper on Secondary Punishments — Letter to C. Wale, Esq. — Visit of ]Mr. Senior — Extracts from Mr. Senior's Journal — Ex- periments on Charring — Conversation on Eoman Proselytising — Eemarks on the Falsehood of commonly received Maxims — Visit of Dr. de Eicci, and interesting Conversation on Eeligious Endowments— Gradual Decline of the Archbishop — Visit of his Sister-in-law — Journal of the Eev. H. Dickinson — His last Charge — Presides at the Monthly Dinner to his Clergy — Increase of his Bodily Sufferings— Interesting Conversation ^th Mr. Dickinson — Apprehensions respecting his State of Health — Continued interest in Literary Pursuits — Tender Attentions of his Family in his Last Moments — His patient Eesignation — His Delight in the Eighth of Eomans — Eeceives the Lord's Supper with his Family — Progress of the Disease and great physical Suffering — Parting Interview with his favourite Grand- child— Visited by ]\Irs. Senior — His anxious Desire to Die— His Death — Lines on his Death. In the spring of 1862 lie suffered greatly from an affection of the leg, supposed to be neuralgic gout ; the pain was at times very severe, and the case a tedious one ; but he en- tirely recovered from it, and was again enabled to pay a visit to his English friends, but being feeble, seemed to enjoy it less. That autumn his son-in-law and daughter paid him a visit from abroad, which greatly cheered and refreshed him ; and later his friend Mr. Senior spent some time with him. He still continued occasionally to preach ; but the weakness of his voice had increased, and the effort was evidently a painful one. But even in this year he came to the opening meetings of the Statistical Society, which he had so long and steadily supported, to receive the Lord-Lieutenant and to hear the address of the Solicitor-General. Late in the ' session' of the Society he contributed to their proceedings the paper ^T. 75] VISIT OF ME. SEXIOR. 355 containing the notes of a conversation between himself and Mr. Senior on Secondary Punishments, and took part in the discussion which followed. He continued to contribute articles to several magazines, and from time to time to add to the stores of his Common- place Book ; but letters were more and more of an effort to him. The following letter to his son-in-law is the only one we give in this year : — 'February 1, 1862. ' My dear Charles, — .... To-day I enter on my seventy-sixth year. I do not think it probable I shall reach the end of it. But what I am anxious about, and earnestly pray against, is, continuing alive after having ceased to live^ i.e. becoming — as is a common fate of paralytic patients — a wretched burden to myself and all around me. ' I do not as yet, myself, perceive much decay of intel- lectual power, except that I am very soon exhausted. I can write nearly as well in ten days, as I formerly could in two.' .... We have mentioned that Mr. Senior was the Archbishop's guest in the autumn of 1862. The following extracts from his journal will show what subjects were mostly occupying my father's mind, and illustrate the freshness and vigour of intellect which remained unabated in the midst of bodily infirmities which were gradually though slowly increasing. Mr. Senior'' s Journal. 'Noy. 8, 1862. ' I left Ashton this morning to visit the Archbishop of Dublin, at the Palace in Stephen's Grreen. ' He is anxious that the experiment of charring instead of burning the surface turf for the purpose of reclaiming bogland should be tried. Under the present practice only a few pounds of ashes are obtained from an amount of A A 2 35G LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1862 turf which, if charred, would give hundredweights of peat charcoal. ' " I believe," he said, " that the charcoal would form a much more useful ingredient to mix with the subsoil and manure than the ashes do. I think it probable, indeed, that the peat charcoal would grow farming crops without any other soil. Charcoal has the power of absorbing gases to an incredible amount, which it gives out to plants and thus fmnishes to them fresh and continued supply of manure. You may see in the Botanical Gardens of Trinity College many plants growing in pure peat char- coal, and more luxm'iantly than similar plants growing in earth. ' " The charcoal is not pulverised, it is merely broken into the consistency of coarse gravel. If by this means new land could be obtained, not only would there be a new supply of food, but new tenants ; English and Scotch might be introduced without evictions." ' ' Nov. 8. ' The Archbishop has been reading the earlier part of this journal. ' " ," he observed, " when he denies that the Roman Catholic priests are proselytisers, on the ground that he never heard from an Irish Roman Catholic pulpit a con- troversial sermon, resembles a man who would say, that a bull is an inofifensive animal because he does not bite. ' " The priests well know that controversy is not their forte. They have no general knowledge, and a man without general knowledge, though he may be primed with separate texts and authorities, is soon silenced by a disputant with extensive information. ' " On the other hand, the more enlightened of the Roman Catholic priests probably suspect, indeed, if they are candid onust suspect, that when they differ from us, they are often wrong, and therefore are likely to be often defeated in argument. They are therefore forced to proselytise in a different manner. ' " They choose for tlieir field of action large parishes 75] EXTRACTS FROM MR. SENIOR'S JOURNAL. 357 where there is a Protestant population too scattered to be attended to by their own minister, and where the benefice is too poor to maintain a curate. While visiting their own flock they enter the Protestant cabins, and having the public opinion of the parish with them, they talk over the women, and then the men. ' " His opinion, that they are not anxious to make con- verts, is absurd. A Eoman Catholic who believes that there is no salvation out of his own Church would be a monster if he did not compass heaven and earth to make proselytes ; and I knoiu that they make many ; but they do not boast of them, lest they should attract the notice of the Additional Curate Society. ' I also disbelieve his statement, that the Bible-readers force their way into cabins against the will of their owners. ' " They enter them often against the will of the priest and against the will of the Roman Catholic neighbours, but I do not believe that they ever enter a cabin unless the husband or the wife wishes them to do so. Under such circumstances they are often waylaid and beaten, and the converts themselves are subject to the persecution of a fanatical peasantry and a fanatical priesthood. The priests denounce and curse from the altar all who have any dealings with a convert. If it were not for the aid afforded by the Conscience Society, which endeavours to protect all who suffer for their creed, whatever that creed may be, converts would often starve." ' 'November 17. ' The conversation turned this morning on habits, ' I said that the word " habit " was difficult of definition. That most persons, in attempting to define it, fell into tautology, calling it an habitual mode of acting or of feeling. ' " The difficulty," said the Archbishop, " is occasioned by the confusion of two words, custom and habit, which are often used as synonymous, though really distinct ; they denote respectively cause and effect. The frequent repe- 358 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WUATELT. [1862 tition of any act is a custom. The state of mind or of body, thereby produced, is a habit. The custom forms the habit, and the habit keeps up the custom. So a river is produced by a continued flow of water which scoops for itself the bed, which afterwards confines it. And the same conduct, occasioned by difterent motives, wiU pro- duce different habits. A man who controls his temper and who acts honestly only from prudence, acquires the habit of being gentle among his equals and of acting honestly wliere there is danger of detection : but he may be habitually insolent and irritable and fraudulent, when he has nothing to fear. ' " I have often said, that though ' Honesty is the best poHcy,' a man who acts on that motive is not really honest." ' " Aristotle's test of a habit,*' I said, is that the obe- dience to it shall cost no effort. Defining the different virtues as habits, he therefore describes them not as duties to be performed, but as pleasm-es to be enjoyed. To a certain degree therefore his theory of virtue and Paley's agi'ee. Both make virtue a matter of prudence, a means of obtaining happiness ; but according to Aristotle, happiness in this life, and according to Paley, happiness in another." ' " And it is" he answered, " a matter of prudence. Cceteris parf^ws, a man is happy even in this life in pro- portion to his virtue. ' " Paley's error was, that in general (for he is not con- sistent) he denied a moral sense. He denied an innate instinctive feeling in man to approve of some kind of actions and to disapprove of others." ' " This seems to me," I said, " like denying an instinc- tive palate — denying that we instinctively perceive the difference between bitter and sweet." ' " He confoimded," said the Archbishop, " an innate moral faculty with innate moral maxims, which is like denying an instinctive palate because there is no instinc- tive cookery ; though some men, like the Germans, like the mixture of sweet and savoiury, and some, like the French, detest it, all men know the difference." .Et. 75] EXTRACTS FROM MR. SEXIOR'S JOURNAL. 359 ' " In your lessons on morality," I said, " you do not define duty." ' " It cannot be defined," he answered ; " if you attempt to do so you merely use some tautologous expression. A man's duty is to do what is r ight — to do what he ought to do — to do what he is hound to do. In short to do his duty. ' " The kind of conduct, to follow which is to do our duty, is pointed out by the Scriptural rule, ' Do unto others as you would have them do unto you " ; that is to say, pursue the conduct which you would wish to be uni- versally prevalent." ' " This," I said, " coincides with Bentham's principle of utility, or, as it has been sometimes called, expediency." ' " I have sometimes," said the Archbishop, " asked tliose who object to expediency as a motive, or as a test, whether they think that anything which is inexpedient ought to be done." ' I mentioned the speech of a woman, to whom the story of the Passion had been read. " Let us hope that it is not true." ' " We seldom," said the Archbishop, " think with pain on our past sufferings, unless we think that they may recur, or unless they have inflicted permanent injury. ' " If the pain has done no harm and cannot return, we sometimes often think of it with pleasure, as enhancing by contrast our present ease. ' " But with respect to our friends, we are anxious to believe that they have not suffered. There are no past evils which people are so apt to grieve about, as those which are most utterly past, the suflerings of the deceased. One of the most usual enquiries respecting a departed friend is, whether he died easily. Nothing is so consolatory to the survivors as to learn that he suffered little ; and if he died in great agony, it excites their sympathy more perhaps than the case of one who is living in torture ; and yet this is mere imagination, the sufferings cannot have left bad traces, and cannot recur. It is shivering at last year's snow. ' " In our own case, present sufferings are matters of 360 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1862 perception, past ones of conception, and the contrast be- tween the two is too striking to allow us to confound them. ' " In the cases of others, all sufferings, both present and past, are to us matters of only conception ; we are liable, therefore, to confound them, and to suffer real pain in consequence of a conception of what is unreal — as we do sometimes when reading a tragedy. It is true that the pain of which we are speaking once was real, and that described in the tragedy may never have been so ; but both are equally unreal now — the one never was, the other is as if it never had been. ' " Again, in our own case we resist such feeling ; every one makes light of his own past evils. ' " But we think there is a merit in sympathising or in imagining that we sympathise with the sufferings of our friends, though our reason tells us, that at the very moment at which we are bemoaning them they are per- fectly free from affliction. Eeason does not tell us that a man who was burnt alive suffered no pain, but it does tell us that he suffers none 7ioiv. ' " Anotlier reason why we peculiarly lament death-bed sufferings is, that there is no hope of their being compen- sated by subsequent health and comfort. This, however, would be a fanciful ground of affliction in a heathen, and is utterly unchristian. " I believe that by keeping these apparently obvious truths clearly and constantly before the mind, much use- less sorrow may be avoided. ' " You remember," said the Archbishop, " our concoct- ing a paper on the Trades Unions, which have destroyed the commerce, and the principal manufactures, and handi- crafts of Dublin, and force us to import almost everything except poplins and porter ; which drive ships from Dublin Bay to be repaired in Liverpool, and have rendered our canals useless. « " Well, the medical men of Dublin are almost out- doing in narrowmindedness, selfishness, and tyranny, the ignorant weavers and carpenters. ' " They have made an ordinance, that no fellow or .'Et. 75] EXTEACTS FROM MR. SEXIOR'S JOURXAL. 361 licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons shall pretend or profess to cure diseases by the deception called ' homoeo- pathy,' or the practice called ' jMesmerism,' or by any other form of ' quackery ' and that no fellow or licentiate of the College shall consult with, meet, advise, direct, or assist any person engaged in such deceptions or practices, or in any system of practice considered derogatory or dis- honourable by the physicians or surgeons. ' " In the spirit of this ordinance, a surgeon refused to attend me unless I would promise to give up homoeopathy. ' " In the midst of the disgust and shame which one must feel at such proceedings, it is some consolation to the advocates of the system denounced, that there is some- thing of testimony borne to them by their adversaries, who dare not trust the question to the decision of reason and experience, but resort to such expedients as might be as easily employed for a bad cause as for a good one. ' There is a notion that persecution is connected with religion, but the fact is that it belongs to human nature. In all departments of life you may meet with narrow- minded bigotry, and uncharitable party spirit. LoQg be- fore the Reformation, Nominalists and Realists persecuted each other unmercifully. The majority of mankind have no real love of liberty, except that they are glad to have it themselves, and to keep it all for themselves ; but they have neither spirit enough to stand up firmly for their own rights, nor sufficient sense of justice to respect the rights of others. ' " They will submit to the domineering of a majority of their own party, and will join with them in domineering over others. I believe that several members of the Royal College of Surgeons were overawed into acquiescing in this detestable ordinance against their better judgment and their better feelings." ' " Is homoeopathy," I asked, " advancing in Dublin ? " ' " Rapidly," he answered. " Trades Unions among the higher orders not being able to employ personal violence, are almost powerless. ' " I do not believe that the ordinance has really done any harm, except indeed to its ordainers." ' 362 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1862-3 ' Dr. de Ricci, an Italian physician, settled near Dublin, and Mr. Dickson, a former fellow of Trinity College, holding a living near Omagh in Tyrone, dined with us. ' " Ireland," said Dr. de Eicci, " has utterly lost the sympathy of Italy. We thought that the Irish were like ourselves — an oppressed nation, struggling for freedom ; we now find that they are quarrelling with England, not for the purpose of freeing the people, but of enslaving them, for the purpose of planting the foot of the priest still more firmly on the necks of his flock, the foot of the bishop still more firmly on the neck of the priest, and the foot of the Pope still more firmly on the neck of the bishop. We find that they would sacrifice to abject ultra- montanism everything that gives dignity or strength to human nature." ' " I deplore," I said, " the liltramontanism of the priests, as much as you do, but both the extent of their influence and the evil purposes for which they employ it, are mainly our fault. By depriving the Eoman Catholic Church in Ireland of its endowment ; by throwing the priests on the people for support ; by forcing them to earn a livelihood, by means of squabbling for fees, and by means of inflaming the passions and aggravating the prejudices of their flocks, we have excluded all gentlemen from the priesthood ; we have given them a detestable moral and political education ; we have enabled the Pope to destroy all the old liberties of the Irish Roman Catholic Church ; we have made the priests the slaves of the Pope, and the dependants of the peasant." ' " But," said Dr. de Ricci, " they have refused an en- dowment." ' " It was never offered to them," said the Archbishop. ' " They were asked," said Dr. de Ricci, " if they would take one, and they said no." ' " Of course they did," said the Archbishop. " If I were to go into a ball-room and say, ' Let every young lady, who wishes for a husband, hold up her hand I ' how many hands would be held up ? Give them endowment ; vest in commissioners a portion of the national debt, to be appor- JEt. 75] EXTRACTS FROM MR. SEXIOR'S JOURXAL. 363 tioned among the parish priests ; let each priest know the dividend to which he is entitled, and how he is to draw for it ; and protect him in its enjoyment from the arbitrary tyranny of his bishop, and you will find him no more bound by his former refusal, than any one of the young ladies would feel that not holding up her hand had bound her to celibacy. To do this," he continued, "woiddbe not merely an act of policy, but of bare justice. It would be paying Roman Catholic priests with Eoman Catholic money. The taxes are a portion of each man's income, which the State takes from him, in order to render to him certain services, which it can perform for him better than he can do for himself. Among these one of the most important is the maintenance of religion and of religious education. Tliis service the State does not render to the Roman Catholics, and so far it defrauds them.'' ' " Ought it, then," I said, " to pay the ministers of the Protestant Dissenters ? " ' " Many of those sects," he answered, " such as the Quakers, the Baptists, and the Congregationalists, are founded on the very principle, that the State ought not to interfere in matters of religion — they therefore are out of the question ; most of the others assent to the doctrines of the Established Church, and can take advantage of its ministrations, though they like to add the luxury of teachers peculiarly their own ; they therefore are pro- vided for already. The Unitarians are perhaps the only sect, besides the Roman Catholics, who differ from us in doctrine, so fundamentally as to require ministers of their own. They are few, they are rich, and they ask for no aid. If they did ask for it, I do not see hoiv it could be justly refused." ' The year 1863 opened tranquilly. There was some in- crease of weakness, but it was very gradual. The spring was spent mucli as usual. He enjoyed the society of his friends, and especially a visit from his sister-in-law, who spent part of the spring and early summer with him ; and no special cause appeared for uneasiness. 3G4 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WIIATELY. [18G3 The following notes, from the journal of his chaplain and friend the Rev. Hercides Dickinson, describe the occupations of this the last summer of his life : — ' The Archbishop gave his last charge in the cathedral of Christ Church, Dublin, on June 18, 1863. He was then very feeble, and felt that this was likely to be his last. He wished to take the opportunity of letting it be under- stood, in contradiction of rumours diligently circulated, that he had not changed his opinions respecting the national system of education, but still lamented its com- parative failure — a failure arising in a great mes^sure from the opposition of the clergy of our Church — as the greatest blow that coidd have been given to the cause of the Ee- formation in Ireland. ' Shortly after this charge was delivered, the symptoms began to show themselves of an ulcer in the right leg, similar to one from which he had endured much pain two years before. Notwithstanding the suffering this caused, he presided at his usual monthly dinner to his clergy in Jidy, and held a S23ecial examination for a few candidates who were not ready to take orders till after the final divinity examination in Trinity College. He took his accustomed part at the examination, though the pain was so intense that he described it " as if red-hot gimlets were being put through his leg." He did not himself hold the ordination ; and on the Wednesday subsequent to it he was, for the first time for many years, unable to hold his weekly reception of the clergy. He was then staying at his country residence ; and, after the last day of the ex- amination for orders, did not again enter the palace in St. Stephen's Green till he was brought there on his way to his last resting-place in the cathedral, where he had so recently delivered his farewell charge.' Mr. Dickinson continues : — ' His sufferings increased each day, and he felt very painfidly his inability to come into town for the discharge yEi. 76] APPREHENSIONS EESPECTING HIS HEALTH. 3G;5 of business. His " uselessness," as lie called it, was the especial trial to his active spirit. One day, early in August, when I went out to see him, on my entering his study he looked up and said, with tears in his eyes, " Have you ever preached a sermon on the text, ' Thy will be done ? ' How did you explain it ? " When I replied, " Just so," he said ; " that is the meaning ; " and added, in a voice choked with tears, " But it is hard — very hard sometimes — to say it."' He had already consulted his usual medical advisers, and would have also seen some of the leading surgeons of Dublin, had their professional rules admitted of their meeting his own attendants ; but on no other terms was he willing to consent to consultations, and indeed was little inclined to be sanguine as to the power of any re- medies on himself. But early in September it began to be manifest to all that a fatal issue must sooner or later be apprehended. His appetite, which had been always good, began to fail, and the decline of strength was more apparent. Before long, even the excursions in his garden-chair became too much for his failing powers, and he could only be wheeled from his bedroom to the adjoining sitting-room. The chess or backgammon in the evening, which had for some time been a resource, now became too fatiguing. As his powers gradually decayed, the exertion of holding a book had to be discontinued ; but he listened with constant in- terest to reading aloud, and this was now his chief re- source. One of the last things read to him in the garden had been the proof-sheets of his daughter's second volume on ' Eagged Life in Egypt.' This peculiarly pleased and interested him. The books he preferred were chiefly of the kind that had always been his favourite reading. Works of fiction, except a few old favourites, rather wearied than enter- tained him ; but natural history, curiosities of science, travels, histories of inventions and discoveries, &c., had a never-failing interest for him ; and often, when apparently a 366 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1863 dozing, or sunk" in languor and exhaustion, lie would sur- prise the reader by remarks on the subject read, obser- vations made in former days recurred to, or mistakes corrected. Till within a short time of the end, he took pleasure in listening to music ; old familiar tunes played over to him by his daughters soothed and refreshed Iiim, and he would often recognise or ask for special favourites with a clear- ness of memory that astonished those around him. Often such evenings of music would calm his nerves and produce sleep. It was not till very near the last, when, on music being proposed, he murmured, ' I am past that now.' His surviving family were now almost all around him. His two unmarried daughters and his son were now joined by his brother-in-law, the Eev. W. L. Pope, who came to take a part in the attendance on his suffering friend, and to cheer and console him in this trial, as he was well fitted to do. His son-in-law and married daughter would gladly have shared these sacred offices of loving attendance, but they were detained abroad by the precarious health of the former, who was so soon to follow him. But the cares of his relatives around him were shared by the skilful and in- defatigable attendance of two old and faithful servants, and of several most attached and devoted friends. To the un- wearied and assiduous care and affection and personal watchfulness of these friends, and especially of his chap- lains, his family cannot bear too earnest and grateful a testimony. Most especially must they remember the af- fectionate care of the Eev. H. H. Dickinson, who was in constant attendance on him, and whose thoughtful and judicious attentions alleviated, as far as it was possible, the intensity of tlie suffering which now attended every move- ment. His helplessness was now so great, that he who had all his life waited on himself, could not lift his hand to his mouth or turn his head ; yet never did a murmur escape his lips. \Ve again quote from the memoranda of ISh. Dickinson, who constantly took notes of an illness so affecting to his friends. In these notes we see the veil of reserve some- ^T. 70] PROGRESS OF THE DISEASE. 367 what lifted, which hitherto had made the ' inner life ' a mystery, hid even from l^hose nearest to him. Through life he had stood forward as a resolute and powerful de- fender of the Christian faith, and now it was to be shown to all how the same simple trust in Christ as the only Saviour, which has smoothed so many an humble death- bed, was to be the stay and staff of the mighty thinker and writer while crossing the ' valley of the shadow of death.' Mr. Dickinson writes : — ' Sejpt. 12. — This morning I read for the Archbishop the sixty-ninth Psalm. His appetite grows worse. When his dinner was brought he said, " Oh ! how I loathe the thought of eating." Yet in these little things he shows very strongly the influence of his life-long habit of forcing all his in- clinations and actions under the rule of reason. And he is so considerate for others — so fearful of giving trouble. When he could scarcely bring himself to eat he said to his attached servant, who seemed distressed, " But pray do not think I am finding fault ; I know the fault is in myself." It has become extremely difficult to move him fram the sofa to the bed : and it is touching to see how he tries to control the outward expression of suffering lest he should cause distress to those about him. While the per- spiration streams down his face from agony, he restrains every murmur of impatience, and says to us repeatedly, " Yes, yes, I know you do all you can. The pain cannot be helped." During the night I heard him often murmur, " Lord, have mercy on me ! " " Oh, my Grod ! grant me patience ! " ' Sunday, Sept, 13. — This morning he looked as if his last hour was drawing near. About one o'clock a friend standing near said, " This is death," supposing that all was over. One of the daughters stooped down and kissed his forehead. He awoke, and in the confusion of sudden waking said, with a little nervous irritation, " Oh ! you should never wake an invalid ! " Some time afterwards 368 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. [1863 he sent for his daughter, and said, " I am afraid I spoke petulantly just now, and I am very sorry for it — I beg your pardon." If ever the fruits of the Spirit — " gentle- ness, patience " — were manifested in anyone, they are in him. In the afternoon he was rather better. Archdeacon West, his domestic chaplain, came out and read prayers with him. He said, "Eead me the eighth chapter of Komans." When Dr. West had finished the chapter, he said, " Shall I read any more ? " " No ; that is enough at a time. There is a great deal for tlie mind to dwell on in that." He dwelt especially on the thirty-second verse : " He that spared not His own Son," &c. In the very last sermon which he had preached, he had enlarged on this as the conclusive and satisfactory proof that afflictions were sent not in anger but in love ; and he now recalled for his own comfort the train of thought by which he had so lately tried to comfort others. He has had this chapter read to him frequently during his illness.' On the 1 4th of September he received the Lord's Supper with the Bishop of Killaloe, Archdeacon West, and several other friends. At his desire all the servants who wished were admitted to join, and all the members of his family united with him in the solemn service. It was a scene never to be forgotten by any who had witnessed it. A calm, earnest attention and solemn peace rested on his face ; he spoke little, but evidently the soul was commu- ning with Grod. A little before this, one of the friends in attendance on him had remarked that his great mind was supporting him ; his answer, most emphatically and ear- nestly given, was, ' No ; it is not that which supports me. It is faith in Christ ; the life I live is by Christ alone.' I think these were his exact words. Meantime the disease made rapid progress. The state of the limb was terrible. The wheeled chair could no longer be borne ; and soon even the transport from his bed to a sofa became too painful. A distinguished homoeo- pathic physician had been summoned from Edinburgh to a consultation, and had agreed with the two on the spot that JEt. 76] PARTING INTERVIEW WITH HIS GRANDCHILD. 369 nothing could avail to arrest the progress of the disease, and that a few weeks must end it. And none who witnessed the constant and intense suffering and weary helplessness could dare to wish it prolonged. His eldest grandchild, the same whose illness had so distressed him years before, was on a visit under his roof. He had greatly delighted in seeing her again. But the time of her departure was now come, and the last day all watched anxiously for a momentary revival, that she might receive his last farewell. He had been in a doze or stupor most of the day, but just before she left he roused sufficiently to have her brought to the side of his couch. He was too much overcome with emotion, in his weak state, to speak ; but as his feeble hand was guided and placed on her head, his eye turned for the last time to the young face before him with an expression of intense love and deep solemnity which none who looked on could ever forget. His countenance had acquired an expression most re- markable ; the appearance of extreme age was gone ; a beauty of youth, or rather full manhood, seemed to rest on it, but the brow had a smoothness and calm which had never even in his brightest days been observed there. That calm never left it — even through hours of intense pain and weakness ; it seemed to speak of the peace that passeth understanding. None who saw it can forget the majestic repose of that form, as he lay motionless on the low couch on which the water-bed was placed, a fur cloak thrown over him. Friends came in continually from Dublin or from a distance, and many comparative stran- gers to whom he had shown kindness, or who had long venerated his character, would entreat for an interview. The room door was open into the adjoining apartment, and many would only pass in and give a last look of affectionate reverence to one so long loved and honoiued, without speaking. Often he was sunk in slumbers of exhaustion, and could not notice them ; if able to take notice, he would show his kindly sense of this feeling towards him by a word or look ; and often would express B B 370 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. [1863 warmly the comfort he felt it to be surrounded by so many kind friends. We again quote from IVIr. Dickinson's journal : — ' Sept 15 — This morning his son read to him the fourth chapter of 2nd Corinthians. He followed the chapter with tears and silent prayer, and at the end pronounced an em- phatic Amen. Towards evening he said, " This has been a terrible day. Oh ! this tenacity of life is a great trial. Do pray for my release, if it be Grod's will." ' Sept. 16. — After breakfast I read to him Hebrews ii. He was much moved, and, when I ended, said with em- phasis, " Every chapter in the Bible you read seems as if it were written on purpose for me." ' Sept 22. — Amongst other friends, Mrs. Henry Senior came out to see him to-day. When she was leaving he said, " Grive my love to Nassau, and give him, from me, my ' Lectures on Prayer.' Ask him, from me, to read the second Lectm-e." ' Sunday, Sept 27. — The Archbishop's brother-in-law, the Eev. Wm. Pope, read prayers to him to-day. In the evening, at eleven o'clock, there was an haemorrhage from ' the leg. A messenger was immediately despatched into town for the physician. He lay quite calm and stiU ; asking after ten minutes, Is the bleeding still going on ? I hope so." He evidently felt thankful, as believing that his release was near. The bleeding had greatly abated before the doctor arrived. When he came in he said, " I think we can stop it, my lord." The Archbishop answered, in his old, natural manner, " I am afraid so." When the doctor left, having succeeded in stopping the ha3morrhage, the Archbishop said to me, " Is not this a very unusual hour for the doctor to come?" I answered, "Yes; but we sent for him expressly when the bleeding began." And he replied, " Oh ! you had not told me of that. Did you suppose I was afraid to die ? " ^Thursday, Oct 1. — This morning he listened atten- ^T. 76] HIS DESIRE FOR DEATH. 371 lively while several of the Psalms were read to him. He was moaning very restlessly in the night, and once, when I went to his bedside and asked, " Is there anything you wish for, my lord ?" he answered, " I wish for nothing but death." ' Oct. 2. — When I was trying to soothe him to sleep by reading aloud an Article on " Uninspired Prophecy," he unexpectedly stopped me when I came to the mention of Lord Chesterfield's well-known prediction of the French Revolution, and he observed, " Oh ! that is not a case in point ; that was quite wide of the mark ;" and he went on minutely to state the particulars of the so-called prophecy. ' Oct. 4. — To-day he listened while some of the Psalms were read to him. Afterwards, though hardly able to articulate — obliged, indeed, to spell the words he tried to utter — he expressed his wish that some little articles belonging to him should be given to two or three of his friends.' It was the night following this, I think, that another of his chaplains was watching beside him, and in making- some remark expressive of sympathy for his distressing suffering and helplessness, quoted tlae words from Phil, iii. 21, 'Who shall change our vile body.' The Arch- bishop interrupted him with the request, ' Read the words.' His attendant read them from the English Bible ; but he reiterated, ' Read Jiis own words.' The chaplain, not being able to find the Greek Testament at the moment, repeated from memory the literal translation, ' This body of our humiliation.' ' That's right,' interrupted the Archbishop, ' not vile — nothing that He made is vile.' The pain now began to diminish, and he lay in a calm and scarcely conscious state for the last two or three days of his life. On the 8th of October, at eleven in the forenoon, Mr^ Dickinson, who was sitting by him, perceived a change come over him. He whispered, ' The struggle is nearly B B 2 372 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TVHATELT. [1863 over now, my lord ; the rest is very near.' He then went to call the members of his family, who were aU on the watch in the next room. They all came in ; and his eldest daughter knelt at his side and repeated one or two verses of Scriptm'e prayers from the Psalms, which we thought he heard and understood. He opened his eyes and looked around, but was unable to speak. The pulse became each moment weaker and his breathing more faint. Again the verses, speaking of the Christian's hope, were repeated in the failing ear. Mr. Dickinson wiites : ' He passed away in perfect calm. The physician amved at his usual hour (twelve o'clock), ten minutes after Dr. Whately had breathed his last. We found then that the immediate cause of death had been the bursting of an artery in the leg.' ' Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed upon Thee, because he trusteth in Thee.* He was buried in the vault of St. Patrick's Cathedral. The feeling displayed at his funeral was very deep and universal ; the Earl of Carlisle, who was so soon to foUow him, was among those who accompanied his coffin to its last resting place. But the whole scene and the feelings which it awakened in those present are best described in the following verses by the Very Eev. "NVilUam Alexander, Dean of Emly. THE DEATH OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. Fast falls the October rain. Skies low and leaden Stretch where no lustrous spot of blue is isled. Some sorrow is abroad, the wind to deaden, Sad but not loud, monotonous not wild. Faster than rain fall tear-drops — bells are tolling ; The dark sky suits the melancholy heart ; From the church -organs awfidly is rolling Down the draped fanes the Requiem of Mozart. .Et. 7G] LINES OX HIS DEATH. 373 0 tears beyond control of half a nation, O sorrowful music, what have ye to say ? Why take men up so deep a lamentation ? What prince and great man hath there fall'n to-day ? Only an old Archbishop, growing whiter Year after year, his stature proud and tall Palsied and bowed as by his heavy mitre j Only an old Archbishop — that is all ! Only the hands that held -with feeble shiver The marvellous pen — by others outstretch'd o'er The children's heads — are folded now for ever In an eternal quiet — nothing more ! No martyr he o'er fire and sword victorious, No saint in silent rapture kneeling on, No mighty orator with voice so glorious, That thousands sigh when that sweet sound is gone. Yet in Heaven's great Cathedral, perad venture, There are crowns rich above the rest with green, Places of joy peculiar where they enter Whose fires and swords no eye hath ever seen j They who have known the truth, the truth have spoken, With few to understand and few to praise, Casting their bread on waters, half heart-broken, For men to find it after many days. And better far than eloquence — that golden And spangled juggler, dear to thoughtless youth — The luminous style through which there is beholden The honest beauty of the face of Truth ; And better than his loftiness of station, His power of logic, or his pen of gold, The half-unwilling homage of a nation Of fierce extremes to one who seem'd so cold. LIFE OF AECIIBISHOP WHATELT. The purity by private ends unblotted, The love that slowly came with time and tears, The honourable age, the life unspotted, That is not measured merely by its years. And better far than flowers that blow and perish Some sunny week, the roots deep-laid in mould Of quickening thoughts, which long blue summers cherish. Long after he who planted them is cold. Yea, there be saints, who are not like the painted And haloed figures fixed upon the pane, Not outwardly and visibly ensainted. But hiding deep the light which they contain. The rugged gentleness, the wit whose glory Flash'd like a sword because its edge was keen, The fine antithesis, the flowing stoiy, Beneath such things the sainthood is not seen, Till in the hours when the wan hand is lifted To take the bread and wine, through all the mist Of mortal weariness our eyes are gifted To see a quiet radiance caught from Christ ; Till from the pillow of the thinker, lying In weakness, comes the teaching then best taught. That the true crown for any soul in dying Is Christ, not genius, and is faith, not thought. O Death, for all thy darkness, grand unveiler Of lights on lights above Life's shadowy place. Just as the night that makes our small world paler. Shows us the star-sown amplitudes of space ! O strange discovery, land that knows no bounding, Isles far ofi'haird, bright seas without a breath. What time the white sail of the soul is rounding The misty cape — the promontory Death ! LINES ON HIS DEATH. Rest then, 0 martyr, pass'd througli anguish mortal, Rest then, O saint, sublimely free from doubt, Rest then, 0 patient thinker, o'er the portal, Where there is peace for brave hearts wearied out. 0 long unrecognised, thy love too loving. Too wise thy wisdom, and thy truth too free ! As on the teachers after truth are moving They may look backward with deep thanks to thee. By his dear Master's holiness made holy, All lights of hope upon that forehead broad, Ye mourning thousands quit the minster slowly, And leave the good Archbishop with his God. TABLE TALK. MISCELLANEOUS EEMIXISCEXCES BY THE EDITOE. On different Notions of true Bravei^ in Civilised and Uncivilised Nations. He was remarking once on the difference between the standard of military honour in the battles described by Homer and Virgil, and that of modem warfare. Homer has described Hector, and Virgil Tm-nus, as retreating before an enemy of superior force without the smallest idea of disgrace in so doing. A modern soldier would consider such conduct as a blot never to be wiped out. This \iew of the subject has been refeiTed to the Scandi- navian notions of honour. ' This,' the Archbishop ob- served, ' is a mistake ; it is not peculiar to northern nations ; the idea of disgrace attached to flight in battle was quite as firmly maintained by the Spartans. The difference is not between the notions and modes of think- ing, respectively, of Greeks and of northern nations, but between those engaged in disciplined and undisciplined warfare. In a regular army, no individual man acts for himself; all must follow the directions of the general. No one blames a general for retreating before a superior force, if he sees good cause for so doing. In undisciplined war- fare, like that described in the Iliad and yEneid, every man was, in fact, his own general, and had, therefore, a full right to exercise his discretion in advancing or retreat- ing as he thought most expedient.' TABLE TALK. 877 Mythology, ' The Greek mythology is far less poetical than the ScandiDavian. There is a misty gloom ahout the northern traditions far more exciting to the imagination than any- thing we find in southern legends. ' The Hindu mythology is the most unpoetical of all. It does not treat of the great but of the big.'' Translation, ' The best way of learning to write a foreig-n language without the aid of a master, is as follows : Take some book by an author of approved style in the language you wish to acquire, and translate it very freely into English ; put it by for some days, and then put the English back into the language from which you translated it, without the help of the original ; then correct your foreign version by the original.' This plan my father followed with Latin, as he con- sidered, with great advantage to himself. Modifications of Words in various Languages, ' The character of a nation will often colour the mean- ing of a word, and the changes the same word passes through in several kindred tongues are often curiously illustrative of this : for instance, " virtue," meaning " courage" in Latin, and " excellence in the arts," or love of them, in Italian ; " honestus," meaning " honourable" in Latin, " civil" or "well-bred" in French, and with us, " morally upright." ' The Picturesque, ' The taste for what we specially denominate picturesque beauty is a very modern one. The ancients seem to have had no notion of it. It appears as if the art of landscape painting had in a measure taught it to us. It is rare even in our days to find an uneducated person who appre- ciates what is called romantic scenery. The pleasure, on the other hand, of cultivated beauty, arises from associa- tions into which all can enter.' 378 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELT. Obstin^icy. ' ^lany persons after they have really been defeated in an argument, will go back to their first assertions with quiet, dull, unreasoning but determined stubbornness ; they remind one of a green baize door which you try in vain to keep open, but which shuts again and again with a soft, resolute slara.^ Gentleness. ' The foundation of a woman's character should always be gentleness. That should always be the basis ; upon that you may superadd other qualifications, as talents, liveliness, &c., but if gentleness is not the foundation, the whole character is deficient. It is like ice-cream; you may flavour it with raspberry, pineaj^le, vanilla, or what you will, but the basis must be cream.' Genius. Of one man whom he was describing he said, ' He is an eccentric genius all but the genius.' This was a favour- ite form of expression with him : he designated another as ' a rough diamond all but the diamond.' Wit and Humour. ' The real test of humour and wit is to be able to make a jest that is neither profane, ill-natured, nor unseemly. In avoiding all these rocks, which so many split upon, you perform a kind of feat of skill. But nothing is easier, or requires less talent, than to make a profane joke.' T?ie Unities. ' It has been a common mistake to suppose that the unities of time, place, and action were derived from the practice of the ancient Greeks. The supposition is quite gratuitous. In many of the Greek tragedies unity of time and place is entirely disregarded. The mistake seems to have arisen from a misapprehension of a passage in Aristotle.' 1 TABLE TALK. 379 Sincerity. ^ Sincerity is often the last stage of corruption. The lowest state to which a man can sink morally is when his conscience is become so utterly depraved that he takes evil for good.' Conscientiousness as a Quickener of Intellectual Poivers. ' A very high degree of moral rectitude and upright- ness of character will make a very moderate amount of intellect go very far, in all questions in which right and wrong are concerned. ' (an old college friend of his) ' was really a stupid man in most matters — weak in judg- ment and slow in perception ; but his thorough-going, straightforward honesty and conscientious single-minded- ness enabled him to see his way through questions which have puzzled many men of far superior capacity. A single- minded desire to serve Grod has great power in clearing the mental perceptions. " If any man will do My will, he shall know of the doctrine." ' A good portion of strong sense, however, will make a moderate share of conscientiousness go further than it would alone. I have met with men who had sense enough to see the right way, had it been regulated by strong con- scientiousness, and conscience enough to have kept them right if aided by sound sense ; but having only a moderate share of each, their actions showed a want of moral recti- tude.' The Golden Rule. ' How many discourses we meet with on the sufficiency of the rule, " Do to others as ye would they should do to you," to guide us without any other help. Such persons forget that the rule presupposes judgment and moral dis- cernment to show us what it is that we should desire others to do ; for " as ye would " must plainly mean " as ye ought to wish," otherwise it would be a rule impossible to follow out in all cases. If you were called on, for ex- ample, to judge between two contending parties, each 380 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TTHATELY. would of course wish you to decide in liis favour, while you could not please both. The rule shows you in what direction to look ; it teaches you to use your judgment and sense of right, /zrs^ to find out what is really fair, just, and kind, and then to bring the practical maxim to bear on it.' Persecution. ' There never was a more untrue maxim than the oft- quoted one of Sterne — " She had suffered persecution and learned mercy." There is no tendency in such sufferings to teach mercy and kindness ; quite the contrary. The natiu-al effect of harsh and cruel treatment is to make its objects harsh and cruel in their turn. No master is so severe as one who has formerly been a slave. If you hunt down a man like a wild beast, you will make him like one in character. The early Christians, and in later times, the Waldenses, under persecutions, gave the most convincing proof of their being really led by divine grace, by the fact that their sufferings did not harden or embitter them. The history of the Gibeonites is a striking pictiu-e of the natural effects of long-continued oppression. When they are given their choice of what compensation they desire, their answer is, " Let seven men of Saul's sons be given to us and we will hang them." ^ ' The tale of " The Fisherman and the G-enie," in the " Arabian Nights," is quite a picture of the usual conduct of long-oppressed nations. The first hundred years of his captivity the genie offers large rewards to his liberator ; but at last he only grants him a choice as to his mode of death. An enslaved nation will often, when at last set free, take revenge on its liberators.' Gratitude and Ingratitude. ' There is nothing for which a man finds it so hard to forgive another, as for having rendered him a service so great as to humiliate him.' In illustration, my father used to tell a story of an ' 2 Sam. xxi. 6. TABLE TALK. 381 officer, who on the occasion of a grand review, where a man of high rank and station was in command, saved him by his presence of mind and prompt ingenuity from the consequences of a blunder he had made in the arrangement of the troops. The general thanked him publicly in the warmest manner. The officer on returning home imme- diately made arrangements for retrenching his expenses, &c., saying to his friends, ' I am a ruined man ; will never forgive me for having saved him from disgrace.' The result proved the truth of his predictions. ' It re- quires much greatness of mind,' my father would add, ' to forgive such a service.' Sympathy. ' We sympathise in general with small pleasm-es and with great misfortunes.' The Origin of Evil. Conversing with some persons who were dwelling on the sudden change wrought by the first tasting of the for- bidden fruit in Eden, and the perfect holiness as well as innocence of our first parents, up to the moment of their eating it — ' They speak,' said the Archbisliop, ' as if the fruit had dropped into the mouth of Eve as she lay asleep, without any co-operation on her part : or as if one should account for the introduction of small-pox into a country previously quite free from it by saying, " At first all men were perfectly exempt from any taint of this disease ; but at last one person suddenly caught it and communicated it to the others." The fact was,' he con- tinued, ' the case of our first parents was analogous to that of a man in perfectly good health, but with the seeds of mortality^ in him, and therefore capable of being attacked spontaneously by a fever or other disease.' Learning luith difficulty. ' In acquiring any art for which you have a natural incapacity, or in conquering any bad habit to which you are prone, you must often be content, after long and per- 382 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. severing endeavours, with being able at last to do tolerably, and with great effort, what many others could do well without the least trouble.' Sorry to Think, ' I used often to warn a friend,' he said, ' against the fallacy of " sorry to think." He would try and persuade himself into some opinion, because he would be " sorry to think" otherwise. This tendency hinders an honest search after truth.' Half Jest and Half Earnest ' I had two college friends,' he said, ' who were con- stantly in the habit of speaking on all subjects in a kind of half joke, half earnest. I warned them solemnly of the danger of the habit. "Let your jest be jest, and your earnest earnest," I said to them ; " by this kind of doubt- ful way of speaking, you will gradually weaken your per- ceptions of the difference between truth and falsehood." They disregarded my advice, and the result in their after life proved the truth of my observation.' A fortunate Guess, ' I am not generally quick in guessing,' said my father, ' but I once made a hit which astonished an old college friend. He received in my presence a letter from a friend who had a clerical charge in a distant foreig-n station (I forget now whether it was in India or Africa). He opened the letter, and immediately a small piece of writing dropped out. I said, " Ah ! I see he has sent you a specimen of writing by a black girl !" — " What can you mean, Whately?" cried he ; but as he read on he presently exclaimed, " You are right ! Here he says, ' I send you a specimen of a copy written by one of our native school girls.' But how could you have guessed it ? " It did seem strange, but it was in reality only a very rapid process of reasoning. I saw, as the paper fell near me, that it was a large, round, child's hand. I thought it must be a specimen of a school copy, and that it was not likely he would care to send such TABLE TALK. 383 a thing unless it were by a native child, and therefore a sort of curiosity. The only guess I made was at the sex, and this I made because I have generally observed that girls when young learn more quickly than boys.' He be- lieved, as has been observed, that what is called guessing is generally a process of reasoning so rapid that the person himself is unconscious of it, and if asked for his reason would often give not only a bad one, but one which had not really actuated him. He often referred to Lord Mans- field's advice to a non-legal friend appointed as governor to some foreign station : ' Act according to the best of your own judgment when a case is brought before you ; but beware of giving your reasons. Your judgment will generally be right ; your reasons almost certainly wrong.' Courage and Heroism. ' Young people are apt to think a man very heroic who delights in danger for its own sake, and courts hardship and suffering eagerly. But my idea of a truly heroic character is one who carefully avoids danger, hardship, and suffering, where they are unnecessary ; but is ready to face all and endure all if needed, St. Paul was a character of this stamp.' On Examining Witnesses in a Court of Justice, ' The common practice of browbeating and bullying witnesses, in which so many advocates indulge, is one which has the double effect of frightening an honest wit- ness and hardening a dishonest one. A witness who has been primed with a false story is generally prepared to meet any amount of browbeating ; it has only the effect of making him more resolute in persisting in his false statements. The honest witness, on the other hand, is often quite unprepared, and, frightened and disconcerted by the torrent of sharp questions poured upon him, he can easily be tripped up and made to contradict himself, un- consciously. If the object is really to elicit the truth, the mode which should be pursued is to maintain a calm and gentle demeanour in asking questions of the witnesses. 384 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. This sets the honest at ease and puts the false ones off their guard. ' I had an opportunity,' continued my father, ' of try- ing this experiment myself. A case had to be tried before me in which accusations of a very grave nature had been brought against an individual who came under my juris- diction. The two principal witnesses were two women, an old and a young one. The lawyer present questioned them in the usual browbeating style. Both persisted in their story, which was a very plausible and apparently consistent one, and they maintained an imperturbable demeanour. The others seemed satisfied with the result of the examination : I was not. I said, in a low voice, to my secretary, " I think this corn will bear a little more threshing," and, just as the young woman was quitting the room in triumph, I called her back, and in a gentle quiet tone asked her some unimportant enquiry. I pro- ceeded in the same calm manner to question her further, but so quietly that she was quite put off her guard. Pre- sently she made an admission which contradicted something she had said before ; I asked another and another question, taking care not to show her that my suspicions were roused, and gradually she was led on, step by step, to unsay every word of her previous story, and to confess that she and her companion had been regularly primed with the details they had brought forward. It was an illustration of the old fable of the Wind and the Sun : the blustering wind had only made her wrap her cloak closely round her, but the gentle warmth of the sun made her throw it off.' Unequal Combats, ' If you fight with a chimney-sweeper, whether you or he are the victor, you are equally certain to get smutted.' Handwriting. ' Many people laugh at what is called " graptomancy," or the art of judging characters by handwriting ; and yet all acknowledge that handwriting does indicate something. TABLE TALK. 385 Everyone allows a difference between a man's and a woman's hand ; we constantly hear people speak of a vulgar hand, a gentlemanly hand, a clerkly hand, &c. ' I had once,' continued the Archbishop, ' a remarkable proof that handwriting is sometimes, at least, an index to character. I had a pupil at Oxford whom I liked in most respects greatly ; there was but one thing about him which seriously dissatisfied me, and that, as 1 often told him, was his handwriting : it was not bad as ivrit 'mg, but it had a mean shuffling character in it, which always inspired me with a feeling of suspicion. While he remained at Oxford I saw nothing to justify this suspicion ; but a transaction in which he was afterwards engaged, and in which I saw more of his character than I had done before, convinced me that the writing had spoken truly. But I knew of a much more curious case, in which a celebrated " grapto- mancer" was able to judge of character more correctly by handwriting than he had been able to do by personal ob- servation. He was on a visit at a friend's house, where, among other guests, he met a lady whose conversation and manners greatly struck him, and for whom he conceived a strong friendship, based on the esteem he felt for her as a singularly truthful, pure-minded, and single-hearted woman. The lady of the house, who knew her real cha- racter to be the very reverse of what she seemed, was curious to know whether Mr. would be able to dis- cover this by her handwriting. Accordingly, she procured a slip of this lady's writing (having ascertained he had never seen it) and gave it him one evening as the handwriting of a friend of hers whose character she wished him to de- cipher. His usual habit, when he undertook to exercise this power, was to take a slip of a letter, cut down length- wise so as not to show any sentences, to his room at night, and to bring it down with his judgment in writing next morning. On this occasion, when the party were seated at the breakfast-table, the lady whose writing he had un- consciously been examining made some observation which particularly struck Mr. as seeming to betoken a very noble and truthful character. He expressed his admira- c c 386 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. tion of her sentiments very warmly, adding at the same time to the lady of the house, " Not so, by the way, your friend ; " and he put into her hand the slip of writing of her guest which she had given him the evening before, over which he had witten the words " Fascinating, false, and hollow-hearted." The lady of the house kept the secret, and Mr. never knew that the writing on which he had pronounced so severe a judgment was that of the friend he so greatly admired.' Phrenology. ' I have always regarded it as an argument in favour of there being some truth in that system, that the writings of its propounders are for the most part so weak that they could not possibly have invented it.' . Destriictiveness. ' The propensity called by phrenologists " destructive- ness " I believe to be the love of poiuer, or, primarily, the love of producing an effect. It manifests itself in children by the love of mischief ; and often, if active occupations are found to give it a right direction, the desire to destroy passes away.' ' But how comes it,' some one remarked in reply, ' that this destructiveness or love of power chiefly finds vent in injuring or giving pain ? ' — ' Because,' replied my father, ' power is more plainly shown in doing harm to others than in doing good. In trying to do good or give pleasure, the object of your kindness is, as it were, co-operating with you ; he comes lialf way to meet you, and, as far as he can, he lends himself to your efforts. If you do him harm he resists you, and you have to work against him ; as, for in- stance, if you try to pull another out of a ditch, he is working with you ; if you throw him in, he is against you, and therefore it is a greater exertion of power. Of course we are speaking of destructiveness unchecked by benevo- lence or principle. One who has a large endowment of both destructiveness and benevolence is apt to do good in TABLE TALK. 387 a somewhat despotic fashion, and, as we say, try " to make people happy against their will." ' Personal Defects, ' It is often remarked that the blind are more cheerful than the deaf ; but we are apt to forget that as the blind man is naturally more cheerful in society, and the deaf in solitude, so it follows that we see the first in his happiest moods, and the last in his most depressed times. ' A blind man has peculiar temptations to be self- absorbed and conceited ; his friends and family are ne- cessarily much occupied about him, and they are con- tinually led to express surprise and admiration at seeing him accomplish feats which they are unable to do. A blind man, if not uncommonly helpless, can always do things which a seeing one would find impossible ; and thus he may easily be led to think himself something really uncommon.' Self. He was very fond of quoting the speech of Daddie Ratton, the ex-thief and turnkey in the ' Heart of Mid- Lothian' — 'Ilka man has a conscience of his own.' He often added, ' and every man has a self of his own.' ' Many,' he would say, ' think themselves free from selfishness because they are selfish in a different way from other people. The manifestations of selfishness are as varied as the characters to which they belong. ' Self-love is a steady pursuit of what will conduce to our welfare and happiness. It is therefore consistent in its workings. Selfishness, on the contrary, is often incon- sistent with self-love. ' Its object is the immediate gratification of the passion or desire which happens to be uppermost, and which may or may not be conducive to our real welfare.' Language. ' A talent for languages and language is not the same. Many can pick up foreign languages with ease, and speak c c 2 358 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. them fluently, who ha^ e little or no interest in, or compre- hension of, their structure and peculiarities ; while there may be great cajjacity for philological research, and power of entering into the niceties of the grammatical structure of a language, without any peculiar readiness in speaking or writing it.' Words and Ideas, ' Dr * (an old college acquaintance) ' was a first- rate Grreek scholar as far as mere words went. His know- ledge of the language in point of verbal accuracy was remarkable, but he cared nothing for the ideas conveyed by the writers he studied. " What can they find to interest them so in Aristotle ? he would say : " to be sure it is very good G-reek." It was related of him that once, when travelling, he visited an eminent professor, to whom he had letters of introduction, at a university. This professor had heard much of Dr. 's learning, and was eager to have his opinion on certain points of scholarship. He was at first quite disappointed at the want of response in his new acquaintance, and was beginning to wonder why lie had been introduced to him as a great scholar, when, in the course of conversation, he happened to use a word of which the sense was disputed, or which his companion thought incorrect (the conversation was in Latin). Erras, vir doctissime," the Oxford scholar began, and in support of his view as to the right sense of the word, he poured forth such a torrent of illustrations and quotations, that the professor was bewildered and astonished at the exten- sive information of the man he had been inclined to rate so low. " How wonderful,*' he afterwards remarked, " that a man should be possessed of such abundance of words and so few ideas I " ' Printing, ' Much is said on the importance of the invention of printing ; people forget that the idea of making an im- pression like a printed letter was no new one ; the ancients had the art of making seals, which was substantiaUy the TABLE TALK. 389 same thing. The real discovery which led to the applica- tion of the art to book-making was the invention of cheap paper, and yet no one knows who was the author of that invention.' Liking^ feigned and reed. ' It is curious how much easier it is to deceive grown people than children on the subject of their being really liked. A designing flatterer can often impose on those whom he wishes to please, by a show of regard and friend- ship ; but if anyone tries to court the notice of a little child, to gain tlie favour of its parents, he will generally be repulsed. Children instinctively find out who like them ; and so do dogs.' Dreams, ' It occurred to me, while still a child, that the condi- tion of a brute was like that of a man in a dream ; and I believe my conjecture was correct. In dreams we lose the power of abstraction at pleasure. There is a con- tinual process of abstract reasoning going on in our minds when awake, so rapidly and habitually, that we are not conscious of it. For instance : " As I am now in Dublin, I cannot also be in London ; such and such a person cannot come and converse with me now, because he is absent, or dead," &c. It is for want of this unconscious process of abstraction that we often dream that some friend is at once alive and dead, that we are in two different places, or are two different persons, at once, &c. And this seems to be the habitual state of a brute.' Secrets. ' Never let anyone force a secret on you. If a com- munication is made to you, and the person afterwards adds, "Now, you won't tell this to anyone," the right answer should be — " I shall act as I think best." ' 390 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. Remarks on 1 Tim. iii. 15, to a Friend ivho ivas ivHtinfj a Commentary on the Neiv Testament. ' It would be as well, perhaps, when speaking of " the pillar and gi'ound of the truth," to sr^y tliat a difference of punctuation gives two quite different senses ; and that there are, in all, three different senses of the passage (for some think, and good scholars too, that it is Timothy himself who is tlie "pillar"), all of which are supported by some reasons ; and that therefore it would be rash to found any doctrine entirely on so doubtful a passage. All this is what no one could deny.' The Archbishop himself thought the most probable meaning of the three was, that the ' mystery of godliness ' was what was meant by the 'pillar and ground of the truth.' Expression of Feelings that do not Exist. ' We generally find that when people express vehe- mently and repeatedly their pity, regard, or contempt for a person, it is not because they feel these sentiments strongly, but because they do not. They wish to feel them, and think they ought to feel them, and so make exceedingly vehement professions, in order to work them- selves into the state of mind they think they ought to have. ' " I ^ity such and such a person," is often said in a tone which implies more of enmity than pity ; and there is a good story of an orator in the House who was stamping, roaring, and gesticulating in the most violent excitement, and on some one who came in at the moment asking a friend what it all meant — " Oh," said the other, " he is only treating his adversary silent contempt I " ' Real contempt is shown in a very different way. It was expressed very characteristically by Dr. Elmsley, when, describing a visit he had paid to two celebrated literary ladies, he added, after a lively picture of their peculiari- cies, " and they have some very strong political opinions too, which they expect you to agree with, and are in- TABLE TALK. 391 dignant if you dissent from them. / forget what they are!''' A Reminiscence of College Life. ' Dr. ' (a former Provost of Oriel) ' used to bring his Hebrew Psalter to chapel in the morning, and appear to read the responses in the Psalms from the Hebrew text. I suspected that he was not Hebraist enough to read so rapidly and fluently as this would imply, and that he was in fact repeating them after me — as I was next him; I was curious to try the experiment ; and I began to read, as I was able to do, very rapidly, without the appearance of hurry, so that he could not follow me if he depended upon my voice. I found he was completely floored, and could not get on. I then stopped, and resumed my usual mode of reading, for I did not want to expose the poor old man for his little piece of vanity.' Punishments. ' The certainty of a small punishment acts as a far more efficacious preventive than the chance of a greater. A Dutch burgomaster, whose house was attacked by an in- furiated mob, saved his life and dispersed the assailants by throwing out some beehives amongst the crowd. If he had fired among the mob, the best directed shot could only hit one or two, whereas a swarm of enraged bees would spare none, and the certainty of a severe sting tried the courage of the bravest.' Romish Controversy. The anecdote of his taking the role of a Romish priest, and speaking in character, so as to puzzle his clergy, has been related in his ' Life.' But the conversation was origi- nated in the following way. They were speaking of a controversy which had been maintained between a Pro- testant clergyman and a Romish priest, in which, as the reporters observed, the victory was doubtful. The Protes- tant had had the advantage on some minor points, such as the invocation of saints, &c., but the priest had been con- 092 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. sidered to be triiimpliant on the point of the necessity for an infallible guide. ' Ah ! ' said my father, ' I see how it was. Dr. (the Protestant champion) took several pawns and was checkmated. The fact is,' he added, ' that the Roman Catholics know much more about our religion tlian we do about theirs. I was relating subsequently this anecdote to a party of English clergymen, who sneered at the failure I had recorded in Ireland. I tried the same experiment with them, and soon pushed them into a corner.' Sensation and Perception. ' With our bodily senses, sensation is usually in tlie in- verse ratio to perception : that is, the senses in which sen- sation is strongest have perception the weakest, and vice versa. ' In man, sight is the sense in which powers of percep- tion are strongest and sensation weakest ; in the case of smelling, sensation is strongest and perception weakest ; with dogs it is the converse. Their scent is their chief perceiotive power, and if they had our strong sensation of various scents it would be intolerable.' Evidences. After writing the ' Easy Lessons on the Evidences,' he said to my mother, ' I have left out what is perhaps the strongest evidence of all, i.e. the character of our Lord. If that was not divine, I do not know what could be.' A right Conclusion. ' When a person comes to a right conclusion, that does not prove that he was right in coming to it. You may conclude that the moon is inhabited, and I may take the contrary view : one of us must be right, but neither of us can be said to be right in holding an opinion at which we could not arrive by reasoning. • TABLE TALX. 393 Of highest Virtues. He was fond of quoting Bacon's axiom : ' Infimarum virtiitum apud vulgus laus est, mediamm admiratio, supremarum sensus nidlus.' ' It is curious,' he observed, how the " lower " or " middle " virtues interfere with the " supreme." Feelings of good nature or affection lead a man to prefer his relations or friends for public posts, even though unfit for them, and thus interfere with that im- partiality which may be reckoned as among the ** highest virtues." Not only have the mass of mankind no percep- tion of these, but they rather blame a man for them, for the reason already given: viz. that they interfere with those with which they can sympathisa.' Bad Writing, ' People view the same thing according to their peculiar cast of mind. Bishop Copleston always observed that to write an illegible hand was " arrogant," because it de- manded time and laboiu: to decipher it. I, for the same reason, remarked that it was " selfish." ' Jests. ' There are some people whose wisdom is a jest, and whose jests are wisdom.' Bei}ig in Advance of the Age. ' To be more enlightened than your age is to endure a misery akin to that so comically described in "The Miseries of Human Life ; " i. e. getting up too early, and coming downstairs to find everything in disorder — fire unlighted, rooms unswept, &c.' DescHption of Character. ' ivould have been a knave,' the Archbishop re- marked, ' if Nature had not made him a fool.' 394 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. A Blackguard, ' For a man to be such, he must by education and birth be capable of better manners and pursuits than those he follows. You do not call a clown a blackguard for having coarse manners.' Party Scandal. ' I would have my friends guard against the very natural mistake of supposing this or that transaction, real or fabricated, to be the real cause of any clamour of which it may be the occasion. It would be no greater mistake for a man afflicted with the gout, for instance, in one foot, to imagine that if that foot had been amputated, he should be free from the disease, which in that case would have seized another part. Party scribblers will say something, for the entertainment of those who are ready to listen to anything. If one story is contradicted, they will invent another, like the wolf with tlie lamb in the fable.' Rashness. ' There are two kinds of temerity that prevail, that of the moth, which rushes into the flame, and that of the horse, which, when the stable is on fire, resolutely stands still to be burnt.' Apophthegms. ' In all the accounts one reads of myrrh, frankincense, and other " medicinal gums," one always finds different degrees of excellence mentioned : the best being which exudes spontaneously, and not by tapping or boiling down, &c. And so with apophthegms. If a man taps himself to draw them out, he will be more likely to sacrifice truth to antithesis. What is said of luiman approbation as com- pared with intrinsic rectitude — that it is a good thing when it comes incidentally, but must never be made an object — may be said of forcible or elegant expressions, &c., as compared with truth. The desire of truth must reign supreme; and everything else will be welcomed only if coming in her train.' TABLE TALK. 395 M atkematicians. ' Though one might naturally expect that the fault of mathematicians would bean over rigid demand for demon- stration in all subjects, I have found tlie fact to be the re- verse. They generally, when they come to any other subject, throw off all regard to order and accuracy, like the feasting of the Eoman Catholics before and after Lent. With them, mathematics is " Attention ! " and everything else " Stand at ease ! " ' The defect of mathematics as an exclusive or too pre- dominant study is, that it has no connexion with human affairs, and affords no exercise of judgment, having no de- grees of probability.' Oratory. ' There is a great difference between a brilliant speech which makes you think much of the orator, and a quiet but impressive one which makes you think much of the things he is speaking of. ' When the moon shines brightly, we are taught to say, " How beautiful is this moonlight ! " but in the day- time, " How beautiful are the trees, the fields, the moun- tains ! " and, in short, all the objects that are illuminated : we never speak of the sun that makes them so. The really greatest orator shines like the sun, and you never think of his eloquence: the second best shines like the moon, and is more admired as an orator.' Ideas. ' A lady who had but little education, but was anxious to improve her mind, borrowed instruction books of a learned man, who, despising female intellect, lent her Locke's Essay, as a joke. When she returned it, and he asked her what she thought of it, she replied, " that there seemed to her many very good things in it, but there was one word she did not clearly understand, the word idea (as she pronounced it, which, by the way, is just as we do pronounce it — not "idea" — in the original Greek); he 396 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. fcold her, idea was the feminine of " idiot." My remark on the story was that I quite agreed with the lady ; and, moreover, that I verily think neither the learned gentle- man nor Locke himself understood in what sense he used the word, any more than she, only that she had the saga- city to perceive that she did not.' REMINISCENCES BY HIS SON, THE REV. EDWARD WHATELY, RECTOR OF ST. WERBUROH'S, DUBLIN. I. PUNS, WITTICISMS, AND ANECDOTES. My father was not much addicted to the practice of making puns, but those he made were generally good and appropriate. On one occasion he was speaking of a celebrated au- thoress who had been recommended by Mr. Hume to give up writing ; he observed, that in the event of her declining (as she eventually did) to follow his advice, the line of Horace might be applied to her — Spernit Humnm fugiente penna. Though extremely fond of a joke, his principle was never to state, even in jest, anything really untrue, except on the privileged 1 st of April ; and even then he main- tained that the only fair ' April fool ' jests were when their object was taken off his guard and made to believe some- thing really absurd. I remember his practising this with great effect on one occasion when the monthly Association dinner happened to occur on the day in question. He had been mentioning in the course of conversation a scheme which had really been laid before him by a certain fanciful projector, for constructing a machine for enabling men to fly. In the midst of the remarks which this called forth, he suddenly glanced at the window (it was daylight, as the hour for these dinners was never later than five), TABLE TALK. 397 and exclaimed, ' And there he is, flying across the green I' The whole party was so completely taken by surprise, that all rushed simultaneously to the window to look at the phenomenon. The editor remembers a similar trial of his hearers' credulity, on another 1st of April morning, when the family were preparing for a journey to England, and were startled by his gravely informing them he had just heard that a large lump of oxygen in the boiler would prevent the packet from sailing ! But these were not the jokes in which he most com- monly indulged. As has been observed earlier, his witti- cisms were almost always the medium of inculcating some truth or illustrating some general principle. In the words of Dean Alexander, his wit flashed like a sword because its edge, keen and brilliant, cut through the subject which it illustrated. Although possessed of a lively and ready appreciation of humour, and very fond of retailing humour- ous anecdotes and sayings, wit was nevertheless far more characteristic of his mind than humour. His wit consisted, in great measure, in apt, and at the same time quaint and fantastic illustrations, used to enforce or elucidate some leading principle. For instance, I was once citing the example of a man of generally high character, in defence of some question- able action or habit ; he replied, ' If you make a collection of the worst traits of the best men for imitation, you will have a nosegay of nettles.' Again, a celebrated medical man (now deceased) was speaking of the phenomena of phreno-mesmerism, and observing that its advocates, in trying to prove the truth of mesmerism by phrenology, and phrenology in its turn by mesmerism, were in fact arguing in a circle. The Archbishop answered, that he did not think the argument was open to such a charge. ' If,' he continued, ' I were to shoot you through the head with a pistol, that would prove at once that the pistol is a destructive instrument, and that your head is vulnerable. And yet,' he proceeded to observe, ' the vulnerability of the head, and the de- 398 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. structiveness of the pistol, would be reciprocally proved, each by the other.' He afterwards remarked, when alluding' to the conver- sation, ' If I had defended the argument attacked in logical language, and showed its conformity with the rules of logic, a hearer unacquainted with the science would not have understood me. A familiar illustration can be com- prehended by all, and makes the subject equally clear.' The Archbishop often reverted to the common but fallacious remark, ' Such a thing is very well in theory, but will not do in practice.' If it really fails in practice, it shows the theory must have been wrong in some point. He used to illustrate the real absurdity of such an expres- sion by a ludicrous anecdote which he had brought forward in the Oriel common room, on the occasion of some one present stigmatising an opinion which had been broached as ' very well in theory but not fit for practice.' It was in answer to this objection that he related an incident which occm'red during a mathematical lecture of one of the Oriel tutors. The teacher was explaining to a pupil the demon- stration of that problem in Euclid which has been popu- larly nicknamed ' the windmill,' and as he patiently went through the process step by step, the pupil dutifully acquiesced as he went on — 'Yes, sir ; yes, I see ; very clear.' But just as the problem was completed, the tutor was dismayed by his adding, ' but it is not really so, is it, sir?' When the laugh which followed this story had subsided, my father added, ' You see this was a man who thought a thing might be very well in theory but would not do in practice.' Another illustration was a favom'ite one with him, apropos of the common though foolish practice of appoint- ing a person to an office in some department because he has attained eminence in a totally different line, as, for example, when the celebrated novel writer, Fanny Burney, was appointed personal attendant on Queen Charlotte. When quoting Macaulay's remark (in his review of lier memoir) to the effect that though no other woman living might be able to write as Miss Burney did, plenty could TABLE TALK. 399 have been found better qualified to attend to the Queen's toilette, he used to observe, ' it was just analogous to the ancient custom of serving up a pie of nightingales' tongues as a special delicacy, as if the melody of the bird's voice must constitute them a greater dainty.' II. EEMAEKS ON VARIETIES OF CHARACTER, ETC. Speaking of a man of first-rate abilities being compelled to perform some drudgery for which an inferior person was better qualified, he said, ' Sucli a waste of power is like fishing with a golden hook when a common steel one would do the work better.' Alluding to a friend of his who systematically en- deavoured to depress the hopeful expectations and lower the self-esteem of all whom he addressed, he said, ' He is like the famous Dr. Sangrado in " Gil Bias," he thinks bleeding and depletory measures necessary fo-r every patient ! ' ' Is he, then,' I asked, ' himself very sanguine ? ' He then made me consider whether this mode of pro- cedure did not rather proceed from an opposite tendency of mind — a deficiency of hopefulness. His friend was ready to administer a cordial when himself convinced there was real need of it. ' Some people,' he would say, ' think that because they have discovered that a man is not all ho professed or appeared to be, he is therefore totally without merit ; whereas the truth may lie between the two extremes — Sih^er gilt will often pass Either for gold or else for brass.' Of Selfishness. ' Selfish people generally get all they want, except happiness. Of this last point it may be said, " seek and ye shall not find." If ' (mentioning a lady of his acquaintance) ' could get any good out of ' (her sister- in-law) ' by broiling and eating her, she would do it ; but 400 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TTHATELY. she cannot make herself as happy as , because one is selfish and the other unselfish.' Via Media. ' Many people think that the real " just mean " consists in halting between the premises and the conclusion.' Characters, Of one friend he remarked to me, ' He sometimes speaks lightly of actions he really views with abhorrence, from his intense dread and dislike of humbug. I have sometimes told him that he might bring an action against himself for defamation of character.' Of a very promising young man, who has since joined the Church of Rome, he observed, ' His mind is too luxuriant. If you could lop off some of his superabundant crop of ideas, and give them to a plain, dull, commonplace man, both would be benefited. The common popular rule for a young writer — " If a very bright idea occurs to you in your composition, strike it out'' — would really be useful in his case. Reading for a Fellowship, or some kind of mental plodding work, would do him great good. Of those ivho seem Better than they Are. ' It is a common mistake to suppose that one who is not a whited sepulchre is not a sepulchre at all — that if a man has faults at top, therefore he has none at bottom. This is quite a fallacy. , for instance, is as full of " dead men's bones " as if he were a whited sepulchre.' Of another acquaintance he remarked, ' He is like a child who hides its head and says, " You can't see me ! " but when he does open his mind, it is in a peculiar way : " Apparent clausse fores et longa patescunt atria." ' I was observing to him once, that those who have studied mankind theoretically and philosophically seldom deal personally with others with as much tact and discern- ment as is often displayed by mere men of the world who make no attempts at philosophising. TABLE TALK. 401 ' Yes,' he replied ; ' and probably if these last were asked why they adopted some particular line of conduct, they would not be able to give their reasons, though their actions might be right and judicious.' Of Curiosity and Inquisitiveness. ' I have generally found,' he observed, ' that inquisi- tiveness— curiosity about trifles — exists in the inverse ratio to a real thirst for the acquisition of knowledge. Foi example, what is the difference between the turn of mind which leads a great historian to inquire into some impor- tant question of antiquarian research, and that which leads a woman to pry into her neighbours' concerns ? The one arises from the desire of knowledge for the sake of its own intrinsic importance, the other is simply the wish to discover what is hidden. ' There are questions in biography and history, how- ever,' he observed, ' which, being of no practical interest or importance, rather excite the spirit of inquisitiveness, or desire to find out what is hidden, than any rational curiosity : such, for example, as the real authorship of Junius' Letters.' 0/ Rights. ' Some people will submit patiently to having their rights trampled on ; but if once you acknowledge that they have any rights of their own, they will uphold them resolutely.' Remarks on Men and Manners. Of an eminent public character he remarked, ' He uses his talents as a child would use Fortunatus' purse, or any other of the gifts of beneficent fairies we read of in chil- dren's tales. He uses them to make a great display and create a sensation.' Of the same person he said, ' He is undoubtedly the most amusing speaker in the House; but he carries no weight, because everyone sees that his only object is to make a brilliant speech. Never was there such a wreck D D 402 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. on the shoals of ^-anity as that man is. He has lost all his influence through it,' Of another public speaker he said, ' There is no man in the House I would not rather encoimter than . He seems to be merely uttering plain common-sense matters in a clear and simple and even homely maimer, but he carries conviction ; and the more so because he often advocates fallacies, which, however, he seems honestly to believe.' To the same man he used to apply the remark which Tacitus applied to the Graiils — ' Eadem in deposcendis periculis audacia, eadem in detractandis formido.' In reference to Bishop 's conduct with regard to his clergy, who had taken a strong part in the Tractarian movement, he used to quote Falstaff" s words, 'I have sent my tatterdemalions where they have been weU peppered.' However, he always gave full credit to the pem)n in question for activity and energy. ' He lives while he does live,' he remarked. Of some men he used to say, that their conduct could only be explained by supposing them to have two sides to their heads — intellectually and morally — and that they sometimes acted from one side and sometimes from the other. Thus, he would say of one, ' He is half a knave and half a fool, and you do not know which side of his cha- racter will manifest itself on any given occasion.' He was sometimes, I think, mistaken as to the individual, though probably not as to the principle. In allusion to a remark some one made in his presence to this eftect, ' I see many clever boys, but where are the clever men ? ' he replied, ' The fact is, there are clever men as well as clever boys, but they are a different class. A boy who is reckoned clever at school is generally one who possesses merely a certain kind of quickness, which he retains through life, but which does not teU so much in the world as it did at school. The boy who afterwards turns out a remarkable man, is often one regarded at school as an odd fellow, whom an ordinary observer would think nothing of.' TABLE TALK. 403 He was always very quick in discerning early promise of real powers of mind, and in distinguishing in young people between mere precocity of intellect and those early marks from which future excellence may be predicted. ' It requires some discrimination,' he remarked, ' to distingTiish between a young tree and a shrub.' He often related an instance in point which took place during his college life. A youth of about eighteen called upon him one day with a letter of introduction. My father was so pleased mth him, that he asked him to stay and spend the evening, and afterwards remarked that he was the most remarkable youth he had ever met, with all the self-possession and matiurity of a middle-aged man. When asked, in reply, if he did not think he would turn out something extraordinary, he answered, ' Xo ; he is too much formed in character to warrant any great expecta- tions of future growth. A more undeveloped mind might offer greater promise for the future. I met the same man,' my father adds, ' some twenty years later. He was the same sensiblcj intelligent man he had been at eighteen, but nothing more.' Of another early acquaintance he observed, ' that he remained all his life a very clever boy, but never reached maturity. In the first case, there was a perpetual autumn ; in the last, a perpetual spring.' On Tolerance and Intolerance. Though inclined to do somewhat less than justice to authors whose minds were uncongenial, or whose books were distasteful to him, this kind of unconscious intoler- ance did not, with a few exceptions, extend to those studies in which he was, or thought himself, deficient. He always rated such studies at their full value, without imagining himself to excel in them. For instance, he considered himself to have no head for history (possibly he underrated himself in this respect), but this did not lead him to underrate the value of such studies. When Dr. Arnold remarked to him, ' Everyone must have his tastes : mine is for investigation of facts, yours for abstract 404 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TTHATELY. reasoning,' ' Yes,' he repHed, ^ but facts will not supply the place of reasoning; nor should I, on my side, ever dream of supposing that reasoning would take the place of facts, and stand without them.' He used to speak of Dr. Ai-nold as a remarkable instance of one possessed of the power of generalising, and always ready to do so, in order to establish a fact ; but disliking the operation, and turning with pleasure from the abstract to the concrete. Pride. The Archbishop admitted that a certain degree of pride might restrain the possessor of it from committing mean actions ; but he had remarked, he added, that the proudest people would often do the meanest things, because they esteemed others as mere worms in comparison with them- selves, and also because the mere fact of their being the doers of an action was sufficient to exalt it in their eyes. Vanity. A friend of my fathers was apprehensive respecting his eldest son, lest he should grow up too fond of praise ; and accordingly adopted a somewhat depressing and severe mode of treatment. My father objected to this on the following grounds : ' If,' he said, ' you could make him less eager for praise or admiration, it would be well to do so ; but, as it is, by denying it to him at home, you only lead Mm to seek it abroad, and that in quarters where he will get it of an inferior kind, and without the safeguards you can provide for him. It is best to give it him yourself in moderation, and thus you win his confidence.' The father acknowledged the justice of the remark, -and acted on the advice given. Education. ' If you want to know how to train children, ask a gamekeeper how he trains his dogs, and you wiU gain many good suggestions. Do not ask the same man how he trains his childi'en, for ten to one he will act with them on a totaUy opposite plan.' TABLE TALK. 405 My father thought it very important for parents to allow their children to ' talk nonsense ' to them ; viz., to speak freely what was in their minds. He quoted, as an instance of the contrary course, a rebuke which a schoolmaster (whom he nevertheless truly loved and venerated) made to him before the whole school. On his asking some question in the course of the lesson, his master had ex- claimed, ' Now, Whately, what could make you ask such a question ?' ' Of course,' continued my father, ' I resolved I would never again expose myself to the risk of a similar disgrace. And thus a spirit of intelligent enquiry was stopped.' College Teaching, Of his general views of education it would be superflu- ous to speak, as they will be found in his printed works. But it may not be wholly out of place to make some re- marks respecting his mode of teaching particular branches. Of his style of teaching at Oxford I cannot speak, of course, from personal ^experience, and the mode of preparing for examinations had greatly changed when I came to Oxford — the ' cramming ' system being greatly in vogue : a sys- tem of which he would have been the first to disapprove ; while Aristotle was taught through the medium of a mul- titude of notes handed down, like the Jewish traditions, from teacher to teacher. His teaching I believe to have been far above the ordinary standard of examinations ; but its excellence was not of a kind to be generally appreciated there, and an inferior tutor would probably have succeeded better in pushing a pupil into a first class. My father thought more of his pupils' mental development than of the class he was likely to obtain. The plan he adopted in teaching Aristotle was this : he wrote questions on the matter of each chapter before the pupil read it ; and, when he had puzzled out the answer as well as he could, he found the difficulty solved by read- ing the chapter : a method which enabled him much better to digest the substance of each chapter and to remember it accurately, than if merely ' got up' like a mere task, 406 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TVHATELY. and learned by rote. It was in accordance with his general plan in teaching, which was to puzzle his pupils in order to make them think for themselves. He often said that other tutors, who thought they were wiser than he was, used to expostulate with him, and repeat the complaints of the pupils that he 'puzzled' them, which, as he always replied, was exactly the result at which he aimed. I have observed that he was not, perhaps, the best man to push a pupil into a first class. But it must not be in- ferred from this that he undervalued the importance of going through the drudgery of elementary work with a beginner — quite the contraiy. I remember his relating the case of a friend who came to college very ignorant of the classics, and whose difficulties had been increased by the circumstance of having been made to study writers too advanced for a beginner. My father took him in hand ; went patiently with him through the simplest schoolboy drudgery ; and at last, through the tutors perseverance and the pupil's diligence, a second class was the result. Whereas, before he had placed himself under my father's tuition, he had been, in spite of all his labour,, on the high road to a ' pluck.' The conduct of my father on this occasion was quite of a piece with his general unselfish desire to ser\'e his fellow-creatures, without regard to any credit or reputa- tion he might himself gain : a disposition of mind which might well dispose the world to look with indulgence on his external roughness of manner and want of attention to the minor courtesies of life. In one point respecting the training of youth he was, I think, led into error ; he was inclined to overrate the general power of understanding possessed by young persons of average capacity, and would introduce them to studies which their minds could not yet grasp. His ' Easy Les- sons on Seasoning ' were an example of this ; as he had originally intended them for the perusal of readers who would, generally speaking, be too young to comprehend either the spirit or the manner in which it was treated. He was tolerant of ignorance where he thought it arose T.\BLE TALK. 407 from want of opportunities of learning ; of dulness he was tolerant in principle, though not always in practice. How- ever, his impatience of slowness or stupidity was manifested more in conversation than in teaching. With a slow pupil, if attentive, he could be exceedingly patient and persever- ing, but anything of inattention or apparent carelessness tried his patience greatly. And with young people he did not always distinguish between the failures in memory or in comprehension which arise from nervousness or timidity, and those which are the result of real indifference to in- struction or liabitual neglect. He was not, like some tutors, disposed to urge a pupil to over-read himself. I recollect his mentioning that on the occasion of a young friend being obliged to suspend his college course in order to pass a winter, on account of his health, with his family in the West Indies, my father gave him some advice with regard to his studies, so re- markable for moderation, that his friend shoidd have felt himself the more bound to follow it. The yoimg student was really prepared for his examination, and would pro- bably have taken a second class, could he have passed it at once. My father's advice to him was, not to attempt hard reading during his West Indian visit. ' You will find this impossible,' he said, ' in the midst of the distractions consequent on a visit home, and the social engagements which will multiply on you. Be contented, therefore, w4th resolving to keep up your present knowledge by reading at least ten lines of some classic writer every day ; and do not let any of yom* new occupations make you swerve fi'om that determination. Keep steadily to a little — if you can do more, well and good ; but let ten lines a day be your minimum. If you begin by attempting too much, you may fail of all.' His friend thought such an attempt too contemptible and small, he despised such little eftbrts, and was sure he should read six or eight hours a day. My father, to the last, recommended him to hind himself to a small daily task, and anything he could accomplish beyond it woidd be so much clear gain. But his advice was disregarded: the young traveller set out with the 408 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. vague intention of reading very hard ; on his arrival, his good resolutions were overcome by the variety of attrac- tive invitations that poured upon him ; the reading was deferred from day to day, and at last wholly forgotten. He returned to Oxford without having read a line of the classics, found on resuming his studies he had lost all he had acquired, and only succeeded in getting through his degree without taking any honours* My father used to call himself a first-rate mathema- tical teacher, though only a second-rate mathematician ; and he considered that he was the better able to teach it, from his slowness in learning it. Those who learn quickly are generally unable to appreciate the difficulties of ordi- nary learners, and therefore are less able to explain and remove them. In my time, and in his time also, it was customary for a student at Oxford to take up either logic or Euclid for his first public examination or ' little go,' as it was called. He said he never knew a man who took up logic for this examination whose college career turned out successful, intellectually speaking; because at that early period of his course he could not really master the science of logic, but he could get up the mere technical terms by rote and consequently could never learn to apply his mind to abstract reasoning. AVith Euclid it is next to impos- sible to acquire the propositions by heart without under- standing them, and the young student is thus forced to exert his powers. There may be exceptions to this rule, but he observed that, generally speaking, the neglect of early mathematical study left a gap in the mind never really filled up. On Style. ' Do not,' he said to a student whom he was instructing in the best method of acquiring a good style, ' spend too much time on any one composition, or you will make it stiff and over-laboured. Translate every day a page or two of some Latin writer, Cicero for example, as care- fully as possible ; this will give you exactness. But write also something of your own, putting down the thoughts TABLE TALK. 409 as they occur to you, without bestowing much care on the wording. This will give you ea^^e and freedom of style.' ' The art of packing up ideas into a small compass is like the art of packing a trunk. An inexperienced packer will cram and push things in, and not succeed in getting half the articles he wants into the trunk, or in making them lie evenly and fit close, whereas a skilful hand will effect his pui-pose without any squeezing or thrusting, and get in twice the quantity. So with composition. The style which is really most concise does not always appear so. But let anyone, when studying a very condensed writer,. try the experiment of expressing the same ideas in as few words, and he will perceive the style to be con- densed, from his inability to imitate it.' Sandford and Merton. ' The principles of this book misled me when I was a boy : they made a democrat of me. But they had this good effect — that they instilled into me a hatred of being de- pendent on others, and desirous of gaining my own liveli- hood by my own exertions. Whether a man's exertions be intellectual or manual, he is independent if he maintains himself. This hatred of dependence followed me to man- hood and stimulated me to exertion. I have sometimes,' he would add, ' set all the chairs with their backs to the wall, for fear I should drop asleep on them while I was reading. Examinations at College. He thought that the same plan should be adopted with regard to examinations for a degree, which he himself al- ways carried out in examinations for orders : namely a pri- vate examination of the candidates previously, held by those who were competent to decide whether the examinee was fit for a public trial or should be remanded to his studies ; so that none should be brought to the public examination unless really fit, the public examiners at the same time retaining the power of rejecting, which in that case would be but rarely used. I remarked, that it might be objected 410 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. that a ' pluck,' or ' caution,' as it is called in Trinity Col- lege, Dublin, would give a man a useful stimulus. ' It is much more likely,' he said, ' to break a man's heart.' ' With regard to the degree of M.A.,' he remarked, ' the examination for it which used to be held has become ob- solete, because the examiners do not like to subject men of a certain standing to risk tbe disgrace of a rejection. The best course would be to choose out the most decidedly superior from the rest ; for after all, the degree of M.A. is a luxury, not a necessity.' Of Ancestiy. ' You will often find that people are proud of their de- scent from a notorious malefactor, whom they would have been ashamed to have for their father. I knew,' he would add, ' a family of sisters who traced their descent from Bradshaw the regicide. They were thorough-going Con- servatives, and often expressed horror of the crime of their ancestor ; but I suspected all along that, could it have been proved that they were mistaken in their genealogy, and in reality descended from some obscure individual, they would have been greatly disappointed. Of Outward Show. Of a certain prelate, he remarked, that his love of out- ward show and keeping up the dignity of his profession arose from want of confidence in himself. He entrenched himself behind these outward forms as in a fortress. Of Faint Praise. The best way of cutting up a work is to give faint and measured praise at first. Of some person who attacked him in this way in the House of Lords, he said he re- minded him of the boa-constrictor, who licks his victim over before he swallows him. He said, in speaking of an attack on his writings in print, ' I could have done it much better ; I would have begun with patronising and a contemptuous kind of praise ; remarking, " So and so is not very original certainly, but it is well expressed," &c. &c.' TABLE TALK. 411 Style in Conversation. The use of hyperbolic expressions he used to call a sort of dram-drinking ; it was a habit that grew on people by use. ' Young ladies,' he would say, ' are apt from care- lessness and dislike of analysing their o™ impressions, to use the most exaggerated epithets on the most trivial occasions, and thus their language was rendered feeble by everything being emphasised, and all lights and shades of description omitted.' Language. ' It is remarkable how an acute man may be blinded by national prejudice. Cicero speaks of the copiousness of the Latin language, and yet, as a great master of that language, he should have known that in many cases where he has used exactly the right expression, he has in reality taken the only words in the language which could have properly expressed the particular idea he wished to con- vey. But his diction is so happy, that in reading his works you would not perceive the want of copiousness of the language.' On Sermons. He had no disapprobation of extempore preaching in itself, provided a man was able to do it really well, and he was ready to acknowledge the advantages which such a mode of preaching, if good of its kind, might possess over written sermons. But he did not like to encourage it, because he thought that, as a general rule, less sound sense was to be found in extempore than in written ser- mons. ' Therefore,' he said, ' though I myself could preach extempore, I abstain from it because my example woidd probably lead others to attempt it who did not possess the necessary qualifications, and wlio would therefore only make their attempts ridiculous. When called on to give a lecture at the meetings of any society, as the Zoological, &c., I purposely bring nothing but notes with me, to show that it is not from incapability, but on principle, that I refrain from extempore preaching. 412 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. ' At all events,' he used to add, ' if a man does preach extempore, he should have a store of written sermons in his possession laid up against the time when his powers may fail. I once heard an old clergyman preach ex- tempore, who, I was told, had been, in his day, a man of considerable talent and eloquence. The sermon I heard from him was absolute twaddle.' In describing some extempore preachers, he said, ' You might quote Bottom's answer to Snug the joiner, in " Midsummer Night's Dream," when Snug asks him if the lions part in the play was written ? '•• You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring I " ' He greatly disapproved of such addresses in a sermon as ' To such persons I would give a few words of advice.* He thought it was likely to prevent the exhortation having any real effect. His criticism on the sermon a friend had given him to read, containing a good deal of matter, but uu connectedly stated, was — ' What that sermon requires, is to have been boiled in a bag,' alluding to the story (given in the ' Com- monplace Book') of the French cook, who followed a receipt very correctly in the composition of an English plum-pudding, but not having been told of the manner in which it should be boiled, served it up in a soup tureen I The editor remembers a criticism of a similar kind on a sermon full of interesting and valuable thoughts, but delivered in a dry and unattractive manner. ' It is very good soup,' he said, ' but served up cold.' He was very partictdar in urging divinity students to write skeletons of sermons. Of one of the most distin- guished of his old pupils, whom he had early trained in the habit, he remarked, ' whether you agree with him or not, he always says something when he preaches.' He spoke often of the importance of leaving one side of every page blank in writing a sermon or essay. He said : ' It is well worth the expenditure of paper. I have known the adoption of this plan lead to an alteration of a writer's style, much for the better. Before writing your sermon, look at your text with a microscope.' TABLE TALK. 413 Titles. ' The book, among my published works, which sold the worst, was a volume of sermons. People do not usually buy sermons unless they are of a kind adapted for reading in an evening at family worship. ' An old college friend,' he added, ' once published a volume of sermons. I told him I thought they would sell, for they were just the kind of thing clergymen would buy in order to preach. " Oh ! " said my friend, " I would not wish them to be put to such a use ! " " You will find, however," I replied, " that they will be." The result veri- fied the prediction, for a few months afterwards my friend had a letter to the effect that the writer had preached through the contents of the first volume, and wished to know when he would publish another ; the fact being that the sermons had the kind of dull, safe mediocrity of character which exactly fitted them for a mar too indolent to write for himself.' Advice to newly-ordained Clergymen. He used often to give a few words of counsel to all the candidates when holding an ordination. He always urged strongly on them the importance of frequently visiting their parishioners. 'When I had a country parish,' he said, ' I was composing my sermon, or gathering materials for it, while conversing with those I visited. When you visit the poor, show them that you take a kindly interest in their worldly concerns. Do not, when you see them anxious and troubled about some such matters, immedi- ately press upon them such texts as " Labour not for the meat that perisheth ;" our Saviour did not say this to His disciples till after He had provided for their bodily wants. ' Sometimes,' he would add, ' when you cannot persuade a man of a truth, or disabuse him of an error by direct argument, you may effect your purpose by meeting him on another point, like cleaving a block in a different direction. For instance, I have sometimes found persons 414 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. who seemed to me to feel perfectly secure of going to heaven, without any real or sufficient grounds, and whose false confidence could only be shaken by being made to look at the question from a different point of view, and consider whether they were fitting themselves for the enjoyment of the abode to which they felt so certain of going.' Of Praise from a Parwkioner, ' Never take any praise from a member of your congre- gation with regard to a sermon, for it is in fact a liberty for anyone to praise you who is not in the position of a companion and equal. When I praise a sermon I consider myself as taking the privilege of one holding a superior position. And remember, also, that "those who have a right to clap have a right to hiss." ' Of Repetition in an Author. My father often introduced into later publications the same matter he had already given in earlier ones, altering the form, or at least the wording a little, of the remarks. In so doing he compared himself to a renowned French cook, who, on finding his master had not liked some dish on which he had prided himself, exclaimed, ' Milord does not know what is good I By gar, he shall eat it ! I will make him.' And accordingly he reproduced the dish again and again, disguised with various sauces and season- ings, till the whole had been eaten by his master. ' And so,' he said, 'I serve up a truth in different forms, and make the public swallow it one way or another." VaHeties of Character, d:c. ' No man is proud of a fault as a fault. He is apt to be proud of it as contrasted with the opposite fault, which of course he dislikes from not being himself prone to it— as, for instance, a spendthrift is proud of being not miserly,' &c. I remarked in objection to this, ' Was not Byron proud of having violent passions ? ' — ' That,' he replied, TABLE TALK. 415 ■' was in contrast with those who were cold and in- sensible.' Of one man he said, ' He is a great scholar and a great goose.' He was careful in pointing out that scholarship did not necessarily imply other kinds of ability. ' The best scholar,' he said, ' whom I ever had as a candidate for orders, was a man whom I was very near rejecting for incompetency.' He used, in connection with this, to allude to the history of the famous Welsh idiot, whose talent for acquiring languages was so remarkable that he had taught himself five or six with little or no help. He would read as long as he was allowed a light, but had no interest in the subject-matter of what he read, and was in other respects very low in the scale of idiocy, incapable of gratitude, and unable to take the most ordinary care of himself. ' He was made up,' my father said, ' of a French idiot, a Latin idiot, a Welsh idiot,' &c. Of another man, a fellow-collegian of his own, he used to say, he spoke Greek like an Athenian blacksmith ; fluently, but without intelligence or elegance. Of Morbid Ideas and Fancies, ' When a person has a morbid fancy like that of poor Cowper, the worst course is to attempt to argue or reason him out of it ; this only makes him the champion to defend it against all opponents. The only way is to lead the mind to other topics, and so insensibly cause it to be forgotten.' ' That which did not come in at the door of reason will not come out at it.' Memory. ' I never,' he said, ' could have been a good whist player, for I never could remember what cards were out. For the same reason I could not be a good liar. The proverb says, liars should have good memories. They have to keep in mind what lies are out, and take care not to contradict them.' 416 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. Fair Play. ' The Dotion of fair play among the lower classes in England is one which is seldom appealed to in \'ain. It is not so with countries which have been long ill-governed, as Ireland. There it is considered rather a triumph to overpower by numbers. What a shame,** said a spectator in a fight, " that so many should set on a man when he is down I " — " Ah, your honour, if you knew how hard it was to get him down, you wouldn't wonder at our trying to keep him tliere ! '* was the reply. * A dog,' he used to observe, ' is in this respect more generous than many men. He will never attack another dog who lies down.* Sloumess. He always spoke of himself as slow, though sure, in most operations of the mind : but there was one depart- ment in which he had the faculty of thinking of the right thing, as far as he knew it, at the right moment, viz.. medical knowledge. Ignorance, ' There is no kind of ignorance for which people are more laughed at, than ignorance of something which they could not possibly know unless they were told.' Satire, For a person who possessed the power of satire he in- dulsred in it verv little. I think I have heard he was more inclined to it when younger, but since I have known him he was remarkably forbearing in this way. And it is worthy of remark that, though he was rough and some- times rude in manner, and occasionally showed people up in a way not altogether agreeable to their feelings, his conversation had none of that sting which often lurks in the expressions of those far more outwardly polished and courteous ; no one ever heard from him those insinuations which men of the world know how dexteroxisly to infuse TABLE TALK. 417 into their remarks without openly transgressing the rules of politeness. He used to say that a man might fairly allow himself the indulgence of keeping a register of the sharp things which occur to him, but whicli he refrains from utter- ing. I have therefore very few speeches of this kind to record. I recollect, however, one instance. When walk- ing with his brother-in-law, he met a man who, generally speaking, neglected public worship, and rather took a pleasiure in brazening it out before the clergymen. On this occasion it happened he had attended divine service on the Sunday, and coming up to the two friends, he re- marked in a very self-complacent tone, ' I've been to chm-ch.' My ; father turned to his brother-in-law and said, ' He speaks as if he had done Grod Almighty a great favour in condescending to attend a place of worship.' The man stared and looked ratlier foolish at this unexpected remark. Descriptions of Character. His descriptions of some peculiar characters were vivid and striking. He had once a man at his hall of whom he observed, that his was a kind of cliaracter which many would mistake for a noble one. ' He had,' he said, ' great energy and resolution, and feelings both susceptible and enduring; but, having little conscientiousness, little or no benevolence, and intense self-esteem and vanity, his energy was employed only in his own behalf, and his sensitive feelings were for himself and not for others. He was utterly careless of inflicting pain, but never forgot an injury received.' Frivolity. ' In calling a person frivolous, you imply that he is capable of higher things than those with which he usually occupies himself. Xo one would call a child frivolous for playing with a doll.' £ £ 418 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. Esprit de Corps in Women, ' Women's party spirit embraces their sex. Men have as much party spirit, but except in very young boys just out of the nursery, it does not take the line of defending their sex, as such. They feel they are, in fact, the lords of creation, and do not care to defend their rights.' Differences between Fear and Fright. ' Fear, when unaccompanied by fright, sharpens the faculties ; fright confuses them. A hare is afraid but not frightened, when she is hunted by dogs ; she has her wits about her, and uses every artifice to elude their pursuit. She is, in fact, a courageous animal, because self-possessed ; and her thriving and being in good condition during a life of perpetual dangers and escapes, shows that it is not a life really painful or distressing to her. The only time when a hare really loses self-possession, is when she is pursued by a weasel : then she becomes really frightened, and the faculties being paralyzed by terror, she lies down and makes no attempt whatever to escape.' Of Courage, ' Acquired courage is in this respect better than natural — tliere is no point from which a man will shrink when called on, if he has thoroughly trained himself to meet danger and opposition.' He said this in reference to himself Duelling, In speaking of an eminent public character, I remarked one day to my father, that the countenance of that man expressed great firmness. A lady present observed, that his conduct on the occasion of a duel he was once called on to fight did not look like firmness. ' He is not physi- cally courageous by nature,' said my father, ' but he can screw himself up to anything. I have declined an intro- duction to that person,' he said, on another occasion, ' on one ground, and on one only, viz., that he uses language which leads to duelling.' TABLE TALK. 419 My father thought that if the plan were generally adopted of withdrawing from the society of persons who were in the habit of doing this, duelling, and the supposed necessity for it, would be effectually put down. Praise after Death. ' It is not from jealousy that men are unwilling to praise anyone till after his death : they do not wish to commit themselves by the expression of opinions respecting him which his subsequent conduct may falsify.' Ridicule, ' If you are afraid of being laughed at,' he used to say, ^ you make yourself the most abject of slaves, for you are at the mercy of any fool who chooses to ridicule you.' He himself, as a young man, had a happy manner of tinning the laugh against the person who raised it. When idle students sneered at him for his anxiety to miss none of Copleston's lectures, in his early college days, he replied, ' If a shoemaker were paid by me to make me a pair of shoes, I should not consider myself peculiarly fortunate in being able to avoid wearing them. For my part,' he added, ' I would gladly limp up stairs on one leg to hear a lecture of Copleston's.' Truth. ' In England truth lies, as the proverb says, at the bottom of a well ; it is hard to reach, but when you do get at it, it is clear. In Ireland it lies at the bottom of a bog ; when you get it to the light, it is muddy and obscured.' Perfection. His comment on the words, ' Be ye therefore perfect,' was, ' Aim at perfection, do not be content with saying, as many do, " I do not pretend to much temperance, that is not my virtue, but I am liberal," or, " I know I am not particularly charitable, but I am prudent," as if a virtue LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. would make up for a fault, and counterbalance it. Every- thing is to be complete.' Co-operatioTu ' I am glad sometimes when those I am co-operating with in endeavouring to pass certain measures, are men who so widely differ from me, that no one can suspect us of general agreement, because all can then see that it is only for a particular object that I join them.' Conduct as a Dean of a College. ' I was always,' he said, ' anxious to show a man that I trusted him (at least if he seemed deserving of trost). My predecessor warned me never to believe a word the young men said, for a lie, he said, was considered as no lie to the dean. I saw that this was the result of their never being believed, and therefore, to inculcate habits of truthfulness, I adopted the opposite couree, and took pains to show I considered their word was to be relied on. In this way they were put upon honour not to deceive me.* His principle was to be severe rather than strict, not to make much of trifles, but to be uncompromising in getting rid of a man who was not fit to stay at college. In his diocese he acted on the same principle. A man had been guilty of a punishable offence, and his domestic chaplain pleaded for his being let off for this once. * No,' said the Archbishop, ' I will take him while I can, now that he has made himself amenable to the law. If I let him off, he will only have learned caution, and will be a thorn in my side ever after.' Language. ' Sometimes a man is said to have a great command of language, merely because he has a great flow of words which he cannot controL He has really no more com- mand of it than he would have over a horse which runs away with him. It would be more correct to say, that language has a conmiand o€ him.' TABLE TALK. 421 Depression, ' When we are uncomfortable and out of sorts — ^just sufficiently unwell not to be able to enjoy anything, but not incapacitated for exertion — it is a good rule at such a time to set ourselves resolutely to do something of which we shall be glad afterwards.' Suitability of Character m the Choice of a Profession, ' It is of great importance,' he often observed, ' to put a man into the right hole. An old school-fellow of mine had a father who, being a literary man, was anxious to bring up his son to a learned profession. But he hated the sight of a book, failed in all his studies, was put to several professions, in all of which he was unsuccessful, and though not ill-disposed originally, began to fall into dissipation from restless discouragement. This is a very common case when a man is going on badly with his work ; the wish to be able to do something as well as other men, leads him often to throw his energies into vicious pursuits. ' All this while the friends of this youth never noticed that his memory for the construction of a cart or carriage, or the qualifications of a horse, was as acute as his memory for books was bad ; his taste and powers all led him to outward objects rather than to literary pursuits. At last, in despair, his friends sent him out as a colonist, and this turned out to be the right step. His energies had found their proper scope ; he applied himself to draining, plant- ing, &c., became a leading and flourishing colonist, and even learned to relish books, when he received a parcel from home, as a variety. Another man I knew had so remarkable a talent for mechanics, that he actually dis- covered the secret of " the invisible girl." He was equally unfitted for a learned profession ; but he was urged by his friends to take orders, and the only way in which he dis- tinguished himself when a clergyman, was in the admirable fitting up of his parsonage. There again talents were wasted, and therefore misapplied.' 422 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. The Bar. When lie heard that some young man of parts, in whose success he was interested, was preparing for the bar, he said he was sorry for one reason, namely, that in the case of an advocate the superiority of one man over another in point of eloquence and abilities must go, as far as it can, against the cause of justice, which would be best served by the two sides being evenly balanced. The Advocate and the Judge, ' There are some men in the world who are occupied so exclusively with the premises of a proposition, that they do not care much about the conclusion. This class in- cludes many of high intellectual powers. The common run of men care only for the conclusion, and think little of the premises. These answer respectively to the advo- cate and the jury, in a court of law. The wisest men are those who, like the judge, are occupied with the connexion between the premises and the conclusion.' Machinei^ in Fiction, ' What destroys the interest in a tale to any but children, is when supernatural machinery is introduced without any assigned or definite limit, as is the case with the " Arabian Nights." It is impossible to feel any interest in the fate of a hero when the powers enlisted in his behalf are boundless. In the " Tales of the Genii," on the other hand, the limits of the supernatural powers introduced are so distinctly laid down, that there is an opening for con- jecture as to how the story will proceed. ' Homer's machinery is of a very peculiar kind ; if it were all struck out, the events of the poem would remain the same. The causes which decide the fate of the battles are natural ones, but ascribed to the agency of the gods and goddesses.' Rerjenerators of the World. ' Some men have the idea that they are born to regene- rate the world, and make out their future life into a sort TABLE TALK. 423 of epic poem, with themselves for the heroes ; and mean- while they neglect all the humble duties which lie near home, such as regard for the feelings and rights and wel- fare of those who have a claim on them, &c. Such a person is like a house magnificently built and elabo- rately ornamented, but rendered uninhabitable by the want of the needful appliances for health, cleanliness, and convenience.' Arrogance, ' There is a great difference between always thinking you are right, and thinking you are always right. On each individual occasion I must of course think my opinion the right one, otherssdse it would not be my opinion ; but I know that among many opinions I may hold some must be incorrect, as I am a fallible being.' Anger, ' A passionate man will perhaps allow that he is some- times the cause of pain to his friends by his occasional outbreaks of temper. But he does not generally remem- ber or consider that the greatest evil which results from these frequent outbreaks is the continual feeling of dread and insecurity which they engender.' Tyranny, ' A rebellious subject, when he gets the upper hand, is always a tyrannical ruler. The Irish do not in general mind tyranny, provided it is illegal. The best way to destroy O'Connell's popularity,' he used to remark when it was at its height, ' would be to make him Lord Lieu- tenant.' Joy and Grief, ' It is remarkable how much oftener persons have died of joy than of grief. It used to be the habit, when a criminal was reprieved from the scaffold, for the gaoler to give him a quieting dose before the news was communi- cated to him. The reason of this seems to be that, when welcome news is received, the feelings come forward, as it 424 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. were, to meet the understanding. In the case of bad news, the feelings recoil instinctively ; the first effect is that of stupif action.' In illustration of the overpowering effect of sudden joy, my father used to tell a story of a gold -digger in Australia, who had been toiling many months in vain, and after repeated disappointments and discom-agements suddenly came upon an enormous nugget of gold. He was found stand- ing beside his new-found prize in a state of hopeless idiocy. In answer to these remarks of my father's I quoted Paley's observation : ' If it be urged that men readily believe what they greatly desire, I affirm that the contrary is the case : it is said that the disciples " believed not for joy." ' 'Very well objected,' observed my father — I was a lad at the time — ' but how are the two reconciled ? ' I could not solve the difficulty; and, after letting me try, he did so as follows : ' When the apostles " believed not for joy," it was for the joy they luould feel, not which they did actually feel. We are sometimes slow in believing what we ardently desire, because it seems " too good news," as the saying is, "to be true;" but when the joy is certain, and the mind fully grasps it, the feelings are ready instantly to meet the convictions of the understand- ing, and the intensity of the shock is sometimes too great for mind and body. ' With reference,' he said on another occasion, ' to the reluctance to believe what we wish, in some minds this is very strong, in others not. I was once looking at a book, in which the wi'iter tried to make out that those were not fair judges of the truth of Christianity who wished to believe it. This could only apply to certain classes of mind ; with many, the reverse would be the case. The theory, therefore, could not hold good.' - Thoughts on various Authors, At a competitive examination at Oxford, my father ob- served that Cicero furnished the best test of the relative profici ency of the candidates. Most tolerably good scholars TABLE TALK. 425 will construe Virgil and Horace equally well, and niuch alike ; but no two persons construe Cicero alike. He preferred Horace to Juvenal ; at least, considered Horace's humour as of a superior character. Xothing, he said, could be more different than the kind of humour of the two poets, Horace's being much the more subtle and delicate of the two ; and Dean Swift he considered as the best imitator of Horace. But he also relished Ju- venal's humour. I recollect his quoting his description of the Eoman parasites who waited, in anxious expecta- tion, at a side table for the morsels which their patron occasionally sent them. He used to say that, of all English writers, Addison was the one whose humour most resembled that of Horace, while Johnson's equally re- sembled Juvenal's. Poetinj of the Ancients, ' Many descriptions may be found in ancient poetry which suggest to us more poetical ideas than tliey did to the writers. They do not appear to have entered into the beauties of nature. They spoke of cool water, refresh- ing shade, fruitful gardens, verdant fields, &c., but did not regard these things, as we do, as objects of beauty.' Perhaps my father did not allow for the possibility of beauty being admired, or at least enjoyed, unconsciously and without being acknowledged. Thucydides was one of his favourite writers. Of the genius of Alcibiades, as described by him, he thought very highly. He always maintained that, but for the apparently trifling event of the mutilation of the statues of Mercury by the enemies of Alcibiades, Athens would certainly have been mistress of the world. Of English Poetry, My father had a certain amount of poetical taste and feeling, but it ran through his mind like a vein of some metal, not mixing with any other parts. He could write verses of undoubted merit, but his prose writings are de- 426 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WIIATELY. void of imagination. His similes were sometimes poetical- but it was by chance, for he chose them for their apt- ness, not for their beauty. He did not, I think, appre- ciate the highest kinds of poetry, or understand that one office of the poet is to bring in truth, as it were, at the hack door. Scott was his favourite poet ; and it must be confessed that his admiration of him was somewhat over- strained. Crabbe he greatly delighted in. He remarked that the title he had justly won, of ' Nature's sternest painter, and her best,' is not only from the circumstance of his painting the darker side of human nature, but also that his delineations of bad character have none of the kind of varnish, of outward decoration, which other wi'iters sometimes throw around a villain, so as to make the picture, even though a truthful one, less disgusting. As, for example, Falstaflfs wit and humour, though they do not conceal his vices, make them appear less revolting. ' Crabbe,' he remarked, ' gives us wickedness without any softening touch to make its deformity less glaring. He often displays pathos and feeling, but delights in doing so where it is least expected.' The lake poets my father did not generally rate high. He said he was effectually deterred from cultivating an ac- quaintance with Wordsworth's poetry by learning that it required deep study. The pleasure in poetry, he thought, should not be gained with labour' and toil. He thought Coleridge's poems indicated more genius than "Words- worth's or Southey's. He said they were like the opium dreams of a man of genius. His admiration for Moore's lyric poetry was intense. But in reference to the seditious spirit which often lurked under the soft musical diction and poetical images, he used to quote the lines on Harmodius — (popT](rw. Tennyson was not the kind of poet he could readily appreciate, and he condemned him, as he did other poets, on too slight grounds. He disliked his alteration of a beautiful little tale in Miss Mitford's ' Our Village,' TABLE TALK. 427 and thought it arose from want of real poetic feeling. The truth being that Tennyson's genius does not lie in narrative poetry, the kind in which my father most de- lighted. Blank Verse. He thought our language was unsuited to blank verse, at least in epic poetry. ' The Greeks,' he said, 'considered hexameters the most fitting metre for epic poetry ; for this our language is totally unfitted. The measure we use in epic poetry,' he said, ' wants rhythm and melody. Milton is the only poet who succeeded in really adapting blank verse to our language, and even in him we can perceive stiffness and evident effort.' Prose Writers. ' Scott,' he said, ' as a novel writer reminds me of a man in a state of clairvoyance. If you were to ask him his private opinion of some great political event, he would probably give you the most shallow vulgar fallacies. But when speaking in the character of some personages in his novels, he will often take the most candid, enlightened, and sensible view of the same subject, ^^'henever,' he would add, ' Scott does fall into the faults of inferior writers, i.e. of analysing the characters he introduces into a tale, his analysis is totally different from the character they display in the com'se of it : they will not do as they are told.' Macaiday. ' Many suppose,' he observed, ' that Macaulay must be shallow, because he is clear and brilliant ; whereas under that brilliancy there is close and accurate reasoning. Macaulay's Essays are like very fine champagne with a very slight flavour of gin. He is generally fair in his judgments, but there is always a whiff of party slang. 'Macaulay is wrong in calling Boswell "a dunce, a parasite, and a coxcomb;" the last he was, but he was neither a dunce nor a parasite. • A parasite is one who makes up to a great man for what he can get from 428 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. him ; Boswell's admiration for Johnson was quite dis- interested.' ' Macaulay,'he observed, 'sometimes steals similes from me ; but he steals like a rich man I ' Abraham Tucker. ' This writer contains a most incongrvious mixture of wisdom and folly. He wrote down whatever ideas occurred to him, and put them down as they came, without any arrangement. You have, side by side, the most ingenious speculations and the merest twaddle.' Bishop Berkeley. He was neither a disciple nor an opponent of his views. When one of us remarked, on reading some ac- count of the Bishop's life, that it was strange that a man who held such an apparently enervating theory as that of the non-existence of matter, should have been so active and energetic in practice, my father replied, ' Bishop Berkeley's theory of ideas is one of those theories which have no practical effect, provided you carry it out tho- roughly. It is like the pressure of the atmosphere, which is only felt if it becomes partial. I may be convinced that the wall is not a substance but an idea, and that the same may be said of my head. But I shall be restrained from knocking myself against the wall by tlie belief that if my idea of a head strikes the idea of a wall, the result will be the idea of a headache. The same may be said of fatalism. An old lady, who held sti-ong predestinarian views, checked lier daughter when complaining of the conduct of a profligate brother, by reminding her that he was ordained to act in this way. The daughter might have replied that she was ordained to complain of him. The Turks take fatalism partially when they refuse to use precautions against the plague, and this causes the prac- tical evil.' He added, in speaking of Berkeley's theory, ' It may be true — we cannot prove the contrary ; and it certainly is the legitimate deduction from Locke.' TABLE TALK. 429 Shakespeare. ' To judge of Shakespeare by what are called his " beauties," is like judging of the Nile by a cup of water. You may collect beautiful thoughts from detached pas- sages, but they lose a great part of their force by being detached from the context. ' A collection,' my father observed, ' of the beauties of Shakespeare, made by himself, would probably contain some of the worst passages (according to modern taste) that he ever wi-ote. He evidently prided himself on his forced conceits and indifferent puns far more than on all his masterly delineations of character. ' An ordinary wi'iter would have made Lear a model of perfection, in which case the conduct of his daughters would have revolted us so as to produce a disgust which destroys the tragic power. By representing him, as Shakespeare does, as a wilful old man — of violent pas- sions but weak character — we can still feel the deepest compassion for him, without the horror we should have felt at such a fate overtaking a man of blameless cha- racter. ' Shakespeare,' he remarked on another occasion, ' had no intention of inculcating a moral when he wrote ; but his characters do teach one a moral lesson, because they are true to nature. He never attempts, like others, to paint a generous sensualist. The real tendency of sensu- ality is to make a man cold-hearted and selfish. The dramatists of Charles II.'s time (and the same may be said of Sheridan) represent some of their profligate characters as kind-hearted, good-natured men at bottom. Shake- speare is more true to natm'e and more moral when he * represents Falstaff, with all his brilliant wit and amusing qualities, as thoroughly cold-hearted, selfish, and even revengeful and malicious.' ^ ' One of the passages of Shakespeare my father was fondest of reading was Pistol's announcement of Henry V.'s accession to Falstaff, and his triumphant exclamations of joy on his own account, and then the burst of spiteful feeling, where he adds, ' And woe to my Lord Chief Justice ! ' He 430 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELT. On the ' Taming of the Shrew.* he observed : ' The change in the conduct of Katherine is quite true to nature. A character of that energetic, decided mould would, when really conquered, give in thoroughly, and be as determined and positive in her obedience and submis- sion as she was formerly in her rebellion. I heard once,' added he, ' of a sequel being written to that play, called " The Tamer Tamed." It represented Petruchio as being married again, after the death of Katherine, to a wife of a totally different stamp, a soft, quiet, yielding creature, who ends by governing him completely. I suppose from its failure that it was ill executed, but the idea was a good one, and the occmrence would have been very likely to take place. The same thought is to be foimd in Crabbe's tale of The Wager," where the would-be des- potic husband finds himself obliged to give way to his apparently gentle and timid wife.' Sheridan, ' " The School for Scandal " has an immoral tendency. It represents strict morality as mere cant and hypocrisy. At least that would be the conclusion natm*ally deduced from the history. The generosity and frankness of a gay roue is agreeably contrasted with the base, mean trickery of his brother, who professes high moral sentiments.* used to say that ^ras a striking toucli of nature Trhich few -vrriters would have had the courage to introduce, because it showed FalstaflT s character in its darkest phase. — Ed. MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS. 431 RECOLLECTIONS BY THE REV, JAMES PEED, RECTOR OF WEXFORD. I see it remarked of the Archbishop that at times he appeared impatient of contradiction and peremptory in discussion. I can only answer, so far as my own experience goes, I never met a man of more candour and better temper, where he was temperately and honestly opposed. Let me cite an example. Soon after the rupture be- tween the Education Board and the Archbishop, I hap- pened to accompany him to the palace on one of his reception days. It so fell out that an address to his Grrace on the occasion was that day in course of circula- tion for signature amongst the clergy present. On my return with him to his country residence, during our usual stroll after dinner, the Archbishop asked me if I had seen the address, with which, by the way, he expressed himself much pleased. I told him I had seen, but had not signed it. He replied, ' Quite right ; with your principles you could not do so.' 'But, my lord,' I added, 'I also prevented several others from signing. The address begins, " We, the friends of the National Board." I saw several young men about to sign, and asked them if they were friends of the board, and on their answering they were not, directed their at- tention to the opening sentence, on which they passed the document unsigned.' The Archbishop at once replied, ' I should not have expected you to have acted otherwise ; you did what con- sistently you ought to have done,' and the conversation passed at once to another subject. . . . Now as to dogmatism in discussion let me give an example to the contrary. When his Grace was bringing out his admirable ' Cautions for the Times,' he was good 432 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. enougli to send me eacli paper as it appeared, and desire my opinion on the article. In one of these I differed from him on a material point. A correspondence on the subject ensued, ending without any alteration of opinion on either side. In con- clusion I apologised for my pertinacity, to which the Archbishop at once replied, ' I would not give anything for your opinion if I thought you felt bound to agree with me in every one of mine.' Some short time after I was invited to meet the Archbishop at the country house of a friend where he was to stay while he held his visitation in the neighbourhood. Soon after his arrival, as we were walking on the lawn after dinner, the Archbishop, putting his arm round my shoulders, inquired, with a rather quizzical expression of countenance, if I knew he was going to bring out another edition of the ' Cautions.' I had not heard it. ' I am,' he resumed, 'and, what is more, I have altered that number you know of. I thought there might be some little truth in your objection.' As we returned to town ... I mentioned that his charge at the visitation had been highly commended in a quarter from which he had reason to expect anything but approval. He expressed his gratification and surprise, adding play- fully, ' Won't you be sure to tell that to the women ; ' (the ladies of the family, as his Grrace irreverently termed them) ' when we get home ? ' MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS. 433 MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS BY DEAN H. DICKINSON,' M.A., OF THE CHAPEL ROYAL, DUBLIN. The suspicion and distrust with which the Archbishop was met on his arrival in Ireland, were such as he could not be wholly unprepared for. As an Englishman, and one who kept aloof from all parties, he could hardly have been generally popular ; but the bitterness of opposition lie encountered was such that he must have been more or less than man had he not felt it. It was natural, there- fore, that he should draw into his special confidence and friendship those few who did from the first understand the goodness and honesty which came in later years to be recognised by all ; nor is he fairly to be blamed if, with liis natural confidingness of disposition, he was sometimes deceived by the pretence of sympathy and a co-operation not perfectly disinterested. The very show of kindness was something refreshing in the midst of the hostility which, on all si-des, encountered him. It would give needless pain to many to refer more particularly to those years of opposition. But no one can do full justice to the character of the Arclibishop who has not the records of that period before him. I well remem- ber how the whole Irish press, day after day, month after month, year after year, continued to pour out invectives, accusations, and innuendoes, and how eagerly these were taken up and repeated from mouth to mouth. That the Archbishop was a ' Jesuit ' was whispered here and there ; acute physiognomists saw something suspicious in the look of his hall porter ; and when, at last, some one found out that in the words ' Kicardus Whately * might be spelt out the mystic number 666, the evidence against his Protest- antism was felt to be conclusive. Thino-s of this sort, of course, only amused him ; but there was a determined opposition, and an obstinate distrust, which constantly put ' Son of the late Bishop Dickinson. iU LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. real difficulties in bis way, and thwarted bis efforts for the 'good of tbe diocese and of tbe Church in Ireland gene- rally. A friend of bis was one day making a journey on the top of a coach, and had for fellow-passenger a Roman Catholic gentleman. The conversation turned on the Archbishop, about whom Eoman Catholic papers were then respectful or silent. ' But bow is it that the members of your Church never abuse him ? ' it was asked. ' Oh, we leave that to you. You Protestants do it so well that you save us the trouble ; not that we like him any better than you perhaps ; but then, you see, you do our work very effectively yourselves.' Through all this storm of obloquy, which blew with hardly diminished violence for a quarter of a century, the Archbishop held on his way unswervingly. And judging from his conduct, some might have thought he did not feel it. But that he did, and very keenly. He was not, in his manful perseverance in duty, buoyed up by either hope or stubbornness. Many persons are kept steady to their point and purpose by a sanguine temper or an obstinate disposition. But Ai'chbishop Whately was not at all sanguine ; on the contrary, he was so hopeless as almost always to anticipate failure in every- thing he undertook. And, if he had given way to the bias of his natural constitution, he would have been over- yielding, indulgent, and compliant. To anything like severity of discipline it was an effort of pain to bring himself ; but he held firmly to truth and duty, upon principle. He formed his convictions and purposes upon reasons which he had deliberately weighed and believed to be sound. When he had once made up his mind, he went straight on his way as steadfastly as though he had never heard the voice of obloquy, while those who knew him well knew that he often went with a bleeding heart, feeling intensely the opposition of many whom he respected and loved, yet never flinching for that or any other consideration from the path of duty. It needs not to be concealed that for some of this unpopularity the Archbishop's manner was to be blamed. MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS. 435 Nothing could have been more mild and tolerant and conciliatory than were his Charges, Pastoral Letters, and Addresses ; and to all those who could appreciate his thorough truthfulness, these gave the real measure of the man, and made them comparatively indifferent to the peculiarities of manner by which those who did not know him so well or judged him hastily were apt to be offended. He gave offence to many quite unintentionally. It often happened that when he was walking through the street and much preoccupied in conversation or in thought, he either did not observe at all, or only half noticed, in an absent way, the salutation which was offered in passing. And this was sometimes mistaken. In his manners there was at times a startling brusquerie by which shy people were made uncomfortable and proud people affronted. Absence of mind and shyness were yeiy erroneously, yet not unnaturally, interpreted as rudeness. He would often enter a room, and with scant salutation or none at all begin abruptly upon the subject of which his mind was full ; and then perhaps quit it as suddenly, forgetful of the usual courtesies of farewell. He had been perhaps just introduced to some one who was of consequence, or else supposed himself to be so. And such a person might have been easily charmed out of his previous prejudices if the Arclibishop had been an adept in those social arts by which other men are able — very harmlessly and allowably — to smooth over opposition. But he was no such adept, and had no arts of any sort. He was natm'al even to a fault ; and in the careless familiarity of the College com- mon room had acquired a habit of forge tfulness as to the smaller conventionalities of life, which was, no doubt, a not unfrequent hindrance to him. And yet he could, on occasion, comport himself with a dignity and even courtly politeness, which sat gracefully enough upon him, though it was not his most characteristic and ordinary bearing. At his own dinner table he was always com'teous and particularly attentive as a host. No matter how earnestly engaged in conversation, he stood ready to receive his clergy one by one as they came in on his monthly dinner F F 2 436 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. days, and at the table never failed to take especial and friendly notice of the greatest stranger among his guests. He would occasionally, in tlie keenness of discussion, seem peremptory and somewliat impatient of contradiction. Seeing very clearly himself, and having reasons which he believed to be sound and logical for his opinions, he was apt sometimes to betray by his manner that he believed the persevering dissent of his opponent to be the result of obstinacy, stupidity, or prejudice, and to assume the man to be, as he would sometimes say, ' proof -proof ' He was often merciless enough in his use of the logical weapon reductio ad absurdum ; and as the reasoner feels generally too much sympatliy with his argument to enjoy this mode of refutation, especially in public, the Arch- bishop's antagonists, whether convinced or not, often gave way. Yet no one, I think, ever suspected him of wishing to ride down an opponent by any official weight or force of his episcopal authority. Hie eagerness arose, on the contrary, from forgetfulness of these. His clergy could hardly be expected to forget that they were arguing with their Archbishop ; and it w^as not easy, even for a beneficed clergyman, under such circumstances, to hit out well, and press his points as tellingly as at an ordinary clerical meeting. But the Archbishop on such occasions forgot that he was anything more than Dr. Whately ; he felt and spoke as if he were back again in the common-room debating with his equals. If he spoke ex catJiedrd, it was not as from an episcopal throne, but rather as from the seat of the Professor. The youngest curate was just as free to enter the lists with him as any dignitary who might be present ; and, indeed, would have been likely to re- ceive a gentler handling than the said dignitary ; and the Archbishop was always better pleased upon the evenings when the discussion had been open and animated. He was so wholly free from any thought of throwing his episcopal dignity into the scale in such conversational debates, that he would have even felt surprised and in- credulous if anyone had hinted to him that his official MISCELLANEOUS EECOLLECTIOXS. 437 position laid a restraint on his antagonists in argument. He never wished people to seem or be afraid of him in any way, and always liked most such persons as were not. I shall ever think it a great pity that this part of his character was not generally understood ; because, not really knowing him, many men felt repelled and stood aloof or drew aside, whom therefore he naturally concluded to be either entirely opposed to him in principle or kept away by personal dislike ; and, of course, neither of these circumstances can come to any man in the light of a recommendation. It has been sometimes said of him that l|e liked only tliose who agreed with him or who seemed to do so. I can, however, testify that I have often heard him speak with sincere respect and regard of many who differed from him very much, and who spoke out their differences too. Tliere was one clergyman who, whenever present at the monthly clerical dinner, used with especial boldness to enter into argument with the Archbishop, and firmly, though always with Christian and gentlemanly mildness, would hold his ground against him. And towards that man the Archbishop had, I know, the most kindly feeling. He liked him all the better for his quiet courage. But, in point of fact, there really never was an archbishop or bishop in whose presence his clergy felt less restraint. And though men too shy or too proud to risk encounter with so acute a dialectician as the Archbishop, held back and were silent on these occasions, they will remember that those who chose to take it had always full liberty of speech. There was, assuredly, no official stiff- ness at those gatherings of his clergy. Clergymen from other dioceses, who occasionally dined at the Palace, expressed surprise at the 'free-and-easy' friendliness of these social meetings. The Archbishop was anxious to make all feel at home. He did not even like men to stand upon the order of their going ; but when the door into the other room was thrown open, and dinner an- nounced, he would sometimes call out, if he observed delay for such punctilios, ' Now then, bundle in, curates, 438 LIFE OF .\RCHBISHOP WHATELT. rectors, archdeacons, deans, bundle in, bundle in I ' He certainly ' held no man's person in admiration, because of advantage.' Nor was he influenced by personal considerations in his appointments. Whoever will take the trouble to look over the list of clergy whom he promoted may see the names of several who held opinions difl'erent from his on certain points of doctrine, or the national education question, and in politics. His thorough dislike of party spirit made him feel sympathy with anyone who made profession of the same dislike, and who disclaimed connection with any declare^ party in Chm'ch or State. It did not occur to him that in some cases this show of independence might be put on, from a spirit really the very opposite. Because when he himself took such and such steps or refused to join in such and such measures, he acted from an independent love of truth, and not from the desire of pleasing anyone : he forgot that some might join him in that appaj-ently independent course of action from the less worthy motive of pleasing liim. He g^ave them credit for an unworldly temper, forgetting that, in fact, the Palace was to them the world. He saw himself morally as well as intellectually re- flected in those who came near him ; and often fancied cono-enialitv of sentiment and feelino- where there was little or none. He was, besides, so wholly truthful, and free from secondary motives in what he did and said, that he was apt to take the sincerity of other people for gTanted. He was most unsusiDicious, and was accordingly sometimes deceived. ' He drew aroimd him a cordon of flatterers,' says an unfriendly Re\'iewer : and, if the truth is to be told as I desire to tell it, there is enough foundation for the sneer to claim some notice of it, particularly as the same thing has been elsewhere and frequently repeated. There was a sort of flattery administered to him by some, and much too trustfully and favoiurably accepted by MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS. 439 him, I will acknowledge. But it was flattery of a peculiar sort. It did not take the form of praise ; it did not appeal to the ' love of approbation,' to speak the language of the phrenologists. This principle, indeed, I have said, the Archbishop naturally liad, and strongly ; but, having it, he deserves all the more credit for life-long self-denial upon this point ; for conscientious perseverance, in the face of painful hostility and continued unpopularity, in saying what he thought true and doing what he thought right. He never spoke or acted in order to gain praise. There were, however, two other parts of his character quite as strong naturally, one of which a sense of duty as well as inclination helped to make constantly stronger ; the other, a feeling which does not seem to ask control so obviously as does the love of approbation. Among the active principles of Archbishop Whately's mind the strong- est was, doubtless, his love of teaching. He carried this to Oxford ; he fostered it there in the lecture-room, in the common-room, and in the parks, where he was always seen, at leisure hours, with some disciple. If in his personal bearing he was not always ' gentle unto all men,' yet was he eminently ' apt to teach.' His bitterest enemy could not deny to him this qualification for the episcopate. He was above all other things hihaKTLKos. Nothing was more characteristic of him than the persistent energy with which he set himself to indoctrinate everybody, on all sides, right and left, with the religious, social, and ecclesiastical views which he held to be true.- Again, among passive sentiments, none was more alive in the Archbishop than his craving for sympathy, for intellectual sympathy especially. Meeting, as he con- tinually did, with the opposition of the many, he was thrown for the satisfaction of this craving upon the few,, and therefore he hailed it with unconcealed and artless delight whenever he saw or thought he saw it. It was a keener hunger with him, because so often starved ; and it was not perhaps so discriminating in its appetite as it might have been but for the painful and compulsory fasts it had so often to keep. 440 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. Some who wished to gain his favour made a habit of enquiring his opinion or asking his counsel on this ques- tion or that ; he was of course delighted to get a pupil ; pleased not on his own account only, but because of the opportunity of teaching others standing by. He would call such a person ' a very good anvil.' It sometimes did happen, I know, that he saw through the motive of the enquiry — obvious enough indeed to fill bystanders with disgust — but he would take advantage of the opportunity of teaching nevertheless, thereby giving the impression that he was gratified by getting it, and holding out encou- ragement to those who sought in this manner to please him. Oftener than not, however, he imputed his ovm guileless honesty to the questioner, and gave him credit for a sin- cere desire to learn ; and then, when he found him an apparently intelligent disciple, bringing out something which he had really learnt from one of Whately's own books, the Archbishop would hail the opinion with plea- sure as a quite ' undesigned coincidence,' and think that he had found another like-minded with himself. In this way, his love of teaching and his desire for sympathy exposed him to the charge of allowing, if not accepting, what other people saw to be flattery. It is a curious circumstance, but perhaps not so un- common as might be at first supposed, that one who had so intense a craving for sympathy as the Archbishop had, should nevertheless have had small power of sympathy himself. And yet I think it was the want of this natural gift which deprived him of what may be properly called ' Influence.' In one of his Commonplace Books he speaks of this as a subtle sort of force, which it is difficult to account for ; and he often expressed his consciousness of wanting it. 'Whatever impression I make or ever have made upon the minds of others, has always been by force of arguments and never by influence in the correct sense of the word.' This I frequently heard him say. But it may be doubted whether anyone can exercise the subtle force called 'influence' who has not either the natural power, or the art, of throwing himself into the feelings MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIOXS. 441 and circumstances of those he meets — in other words, the power of sympathy. And perhaps a very extraordinary strength, consistency, and fixedness of character like the Archbishop's is incompatible with the possession of this in any great degree. A man who sees truths obscurely or superficially, or who has an undecided hold of his opinions, or who has an impressible imagination easily coloured by present circumstances, will not only be able to sympathise more readily with those with whom he converses, but will be able to prevent himself from sympathising oppositely and inconsistently, just as depends upon his company. I rather think that among great men, strong leaders of speculative thought, and men who have cut tlieir way through difficulties in action, the larger number would be classed among what may be called ' unsympatliising cha- racters,' They may be genuinely philanthropic, large- hearted » benevolent, unselfish. All this Archbishop Whately was. A man of larger or truer benevolence there never lived. And yet his habits of reflectiveness and self-concentration, his searching acuteness of judgment, his rigid consistency of principle and habit, made it difficult for him to throw himself into the thoughts and feelings of persons who widely differed from him ; and his straightforward simplicity made it equally hard to assume the show of sympathy when he did not feel it. Being unable (whether from general force of character, or from the weakness of a particular faculty, or from the natural connexion of these two circumstances, need not be determined) to put himself into sympathy with other men, he required all the more that other men should be, or else should place themselves in sympathy with him. Hence he could not easily make a close friend of anyone whose opinions set him at a distance. It was not, however, dogmatism or arrogance, or self-esteem, as some untruly supposed, that estranged the Archbishop from persons who diverged from him in sentiment, or led him to look coldly upon them from the first, but simply the absolute necessity for that sympathy which was, with him, an essential basis of friendship. l)r. Arnold is, I think, the only instance 442 LIFE OF ARCHBlSHOr WHATELY. among his close and chosen friends of one whose opinions differed considerably from his own. But there was a thorough moved sympathy between the men that was quite strong enough to bridge over all differences. Arnold's intense love of truth and manly simplicity of character were thoroughly appreciated and loved by Dr. Whately. One of the Archbishop's examining cliaplains was Dr. James Wilson, afterwards Bishop of Cork. He was a man of literary tastes and a fair share of learning, and though no writer himself, his critical acumen was valued highly by the Archbishop. He had a certain dry humour which was a constant amusement" to Dr. Whately, who enjoyed greatly the recollection and repetition of some of his sayings. Speaking one day 'of a newly risen sect of religionists who proscribed the use of animal food, the Archbishop said to Dr. Wilson, ' Do you know anything, Wilson, of this new sect ?' — ' Yes my Lord ; I have seen their con- fession of faith, which is a book of cookery.' On one occasion when Dr. W. was asked to subscribe his name to a testimonial in favour of some one whom he thought not very highly of, yet did not msh to refuse, and who had had his testimonial signed already by clergymen whose names carried small weight, he got out of his diffi- culty by writing, ' I know the value of the above signa- tures. Jas. Wilson.' But the Archbishop was too straight- forward himself to approve of this ritse^ and, though amused, blamed Dr. Wilson for it at the time. I remember hearing Dr. Wilson give, in his driest way, a very entertaining account of an interview which he had one day with a lady who called at his own house. She wanted him to bring an appeal on her behalf before the Archbishop ; and stated her case with much eagerness and irrepressible volubility. Unable to stem the torrent. Dr. Wilson sat, rustic-like, waiting for the stream to spend itself, which, unlike Horace's river, it did at last. When the good lady, mistaking the Doctor's patient silence for conviction and consent, wound up her long and discursive harangue with the final appeal, ' Well now, I may depend mSCELL-iXEOUS BECOLLECTIOXS. 443 upon you, Sir, to state all this to the Archbishop ? ' — the very unsatisfactory reply which she received was, ' Madam, T make it my business to intercept as many as possible of these commimications.* Archbishop Whately was, at that time, very active, and used in the afternoon to take long walks with my father (then his chaplain). The Pydgeon House * Wall and Sandymount Strand were their favourite places of exercise. On their way to the latter place they generally crossed over the river Dodder by a toll-bridge (since then re- moved). And it very frequently happened that neither the Archbishop nor his chaplain had enough money about them to pay the penny toll ; so they had to pass over the bridge on credit. I think two of the happiest periods of the Archbishop's life were when he was engaged in con- cert with my father in compiling the ' Lessons on Chris- tian Evidences,' and afterwards when in conjunction with Dr. Fitzgerald (now Bishop of Killaloe) he was writing the ' Cautions for the Times.' He always enjoyed his literary occupations most when shared by one or two fellow- labourers. Some of the chapters in the Evidences were worked out in the course of walks upon Killiney shore with Dr. Dickinson, and with Archdeacon Eussell, the biogTapher of the Rev. Charles Wolfe. When Arch- deacon R. suggested to the Archbishop the chapter ' On the Character of oiu Lord,' he said, ' Yes, a most important evidence indeed, but I know of only one man who could have treated that subject as it ought to be treated, and that is your friend Wolfe.' He greatly admired this writer, and showed appreciation of his poetic and imaginative eloquence by frequently reciting those passages from his sermons which he has quoted in his volume on * Rhe- toric' In preparing his charges or addresses, he made it his constant practice to read what he had written to several of his friends, and to ask their judgments before publication. He was remarkably candid, and. ready to listen to any - So properly spelt, leing nameil from people of the name of ' Pydgeon,* •who had a house of entertainment there in the last centnry. 444 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. suggestion that might be made. He never slighted any emendation, however trifling, and never resented any criticism, however boldly offered. He was pre-eminently a man of ' major premises '; and where his readers dissent from his conclusions, it is, in the majority of cases (I am inclined to think), in the minor premises that the difference will be found. In words that non-logicians will understand, his general principle is almost always true, while in his application of it to par- ticular cases there may be, now and then, something to question. In reducing such and such a case, thing, sub- ject, &c., to the class of which something has in the major premise been truly predicated, the soundness of the argu- ment will often depend upon a special knowledge of facts and details. An accurate acquaintance with these, or a close and critical investigation of them, would show per- haps that there is some particular circumstance essentially distinguishing the subject of the minor premise from the class (or description of things) under which it is proposed to reduce it. Almost always sound in his general prin- ciples, invariaHy logical in his conclusion, the flaw in the Archbishop's reasonings, where there is any, arises, I think, from his not knowing or overlooking some qualify- ing circumstance, the knowledge of which depended on faculties of minute and patient observation, which — ex- cept perhaps in the region of natural history — he did not very prominently possess ; or on familiarity with a certain kind of learning which he did not much care to cultivate. He was too wise to be far wrong in the general principle of his syllogism, too clearly and acutely logical to blunder in his conclusion ; but he was, on some subjects, not deeply enough read to be quite safe against objection in his minor premise — what some logicians have called the Argument. Of his examinations for Holy Orders, his daughter has spoken in this memoir. He never received any candidate till he had first passed the examination of one of his chaplains. The object of this plan was a benevolent one. It was in order that none might be exposed to the pain of feeling and of reporting to his friends that he was rejected by the Archbishop ; for MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS. 446 it was understood that the chaplain's preliminary exami- nation was quite a private one, and that in cases where he advised the candidate not to present himself without some further study, the recommendation was given in confi- dence, and the opportunity left to him accordingly of offering himself without prejudice, when better prepared, to the Archbishop. When the names of the candidates were given in, and they were reported as satisfactory, the Archbishop ap- pointed them to come three or four on each day. He gave them written questions to answer, and subjects on which to write short sermon outlines ; receiving them separately into another room, where he and his chaplains sat round a table ; and always examining them one by one. This plan he preferred, both as more agreeable to the candidates and as testing the knowledge of each better than he thought could be done at an examination where the right answer may be gathered by one, out of the misses of another. As for the candidates, I think the other plan would after all have been less formidable, if I may judge of others' feelings from my own. For, long and intimately as I had known the Archbishop before, I felt frightened enough at my own examination for Orders, in being the solitary object for his Grace and five or six more divines to look at and question, and I should have felt the pre- sence of my companions a very great relief. However, there was really nothing in the Archbishop's manner to alarm. He was an uncommonly patient and indulgent examiner, always giving the candidate full time to deli- berate, and with quick kindness catching the first approach to a correct reply. In the latter years of his life, his hearing was imperfect, and his articulation less distinct than formerly. It sometimes happened, therefore, that when he put a question, and found it not heard or not answered at once, he repeated it much louder than he was himself aware. This gave the impression of impatience, and if the candidate was not prepared for it beforehand, rather increased his nervousness. But it arose from the physical causes I have referred to. But, on the whole, I think his extraordinary love of 416 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. teaching made him, in the same ratio, a rather less good examiner. He often forgot the examiner altogether in the teacher, and spent so long a time in explaining and in- structing, that by the end of an hour he had got much more into the candidate than he had got out of him. And I have seen him also much pleased with a candidate whose merit lay rather in being a quick and intelligent pupil than in the manifestation of any profound knowledge of his business. But the Archbishop would form his estimate of a man's general ability and intellectual fitness to teach more by the first of these tests than the second. He never would be persuaded to prescribe any course of books for his examination. ' I shall examine,' he would say, ' in the Bible and Prayer-book. Eead anything and everything, I don't care what, that will assist you to under- stand these two.' He used to scoff at what he was accus- tomed to call the secundum quern style of examination which is adopted in our universities. Yet, having written on all the theological subjects which he himself thought most important, it was impossible for him to keep clear of these when examining, and consequently a knowledge of Whately's writings would always serve a candidate materially in the Archbishop's examination. He never, however, required any of his own books to be read ; nor did he, in the least, care whether the knowledge of what he asked had been derived from him or from anyone else. He always made it a rule to examine very carefully in the Epistles. When he came over to Ireland he was asked to adopt a course of examination to which other Bishops had agreed. They had consented not to examine candi- dates for deacons' orders in the Epistles. The Ai'chbishop asked, ' Are deacons then to be forbidden to preach from the Epistles during their diaconate?' — 'Oh no, certainly not ; that is not contemplated.' — ' Then,' answered his Grrace, ' if they are to be allowed to preach from them, it is as well to see whether they know them or not.' He had a sort of blunt common sense that would march straight on to a conclusion, brushing aside all theories and MISCELLAXEOUS RECOLLECTIONS. 447 plausible reasons that might be offered to the contrary. This was sometimes rather provoking to people who came to him prepared to argue out a question, and found them- selves suddenly either compelled to see the matter in a strong light which had not heretofore presented itself, or to perceive that the iVrchbishop was not easily to be taken by surprise by any of the arguments they had provided themselves with. No matter how one might try to mystify the subject or to put it another way, the Archbishop would persistently turn his lantern upon it, and would not let any sophistry divert him from the one point which he believed conclusive. He always, indeed, would give a patient hearing to arguments on the other side, but with a pitiless sort of pertinacity he would force back the arguer to the main question, till he had left him no escape. He was a very impartial chairman at committee meetings and boards, secm'ing to everyone a patient hearing. He was always very quick in seizing the salient point of a discus- sion, and showed the bent of his intellect in reducingr a disputed question promptly, whenever it was possible to do so, under some general principle on which his mind had been made up. Whenever he could do this, he seemed to find it a relief from the consideration of details and minor points of which he soon grew weary ; and there was sometimes a difficulty in making him see that the parti- cular case did not come under the general principle so certainly as he supposed. But when the distinction was brought under his notice, no one could be more candid in reconsidering his first decision and allowing full weight to further argiunents, clearly and fairly set before him. At public meetings he showed himself possessed of one rare and very enviable gift, which is, indeed, of much con- venience to a chairman. Whenever he was obliged to listen to a speech delivered in his presence, of which he did not feel approval, and did not wish to express cZisapproval, he had the faculty of looking as if he did not hear a word. He fixed his eyes on vacancy, and banished all expression of every kind from his face, so that people who peeped 448 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. forward, curious to see ' how the Archbishop was takin^^ it,' could gather as little from his countenance as if it had been carved out of stone. I remember observing this with much amusement at a certain public meeting, in the comse of which one speaker made an harangue which was pre- eminently injudicious. He appealed to the Archbishop, every now and then, as cognisant of circumstances which, with singular indiscretion, he was detailing to the meet- ing, saying, ' Your Grace is aware of so and so ; your Grrace will recollect what I refer to,' and so forth. But his Grrace evidently recollected nothing, and looked as if he were stone-deaf. I congratulated him, after the meeting, on his success, and asked him how he managed it. I think it was a half-unconscious art with him ; however, he seemed amused, and asked me, in reply, if I had ever heard a story of the late Lord Melbourne. Lord Melbourne (he told me) was in the House one evening, when stood up to speak on the Grovernment side. The speech was a very indiscreet one ; the speaker dashed into topics about which Ministers would rather have had nothing said, and in the course of his remarks, tm-ned towards the bench where Lord M. was sitting, saying, ' The noble Lord at the head of the Grovernment is fully aware of the accm-acy of what I state ; the noble Lord, having been present at the inter- view of which I speak, will bear his testimony.' The only answer from the Treasury bench was a loud snore. On oratory apart from logic the Archbishop set little value. A dull speech, if sensible and to the point, would meet a much more indulgent hearing and criticism from him than one that might, perhaps, bring to the platform thunders of applause. Of clap-trap he was intolerant. His presence, therefore, as chairman was felt an uncom- fortable sort of restraint by those who scarcely dared to hazard, in his unsympathetic hearing, their customary flights of Celtic fervour. In the presence of so acute a logician few could be brave enough to utter the unsub- stantial nothings or use ad captandum argimaents. MISCELLAXEOUS RECOLLECTIOXS. 449 NOTES FROM THE RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD OXFORD PUPIL OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY'S. In figure, Whately was tall, some six feet high, and stout — not so much in flesh as in muscle and breadth of bone — and in his Alban Hall days, though not remarkable for graceful or majestic bearing, he was at least a remarkably fine man. He was of fair complexion, pale, with light grey eyes. He had a long head, with flaxen hair, by no means in profusion. In Oxford he wore his trencher cap quite at the back of his head, with the foremost corner of the flat trencher pointing to the sky, in palpable variation from the usual style of academic attire. Of a frame peculiarly adapted for active exercise, stand- ing or walking about was Dr. Whately's most congenial condition, and the confinement of a chair for any long time seemed irksome to him. Temper. An Alban Hall man, one fine summer morning, called on him at his friend Mr. Senior's, in Kensington Grore, to solicit his good offices in some affair in which they were deemed advantageous, and was told by the man-servant that he had gone for his walk in Kensington Gardens. The applicant ventiu'ed to hunt the Archbishop in that wilderness, and after a long chase came across him, dressed for the day, in the broad avenue. He was not the least disturbed by the audience thus abruptly exacted from him in the open air, but cordially shook the intruder's hand, invited him to join in his walk, and continued in cheerful conversation with him till they reached the steps of his friend's hall door. One morning, while still at Alban Hall, at his before- breakfast Euclid lecture, the Principal began with — ' Well, we left off with the 13th proposition, 6th book,' G o 450 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. and looking towards the other end of the table, said, ' Mr. Wilson, take the next — the 1-ith.' Wilson ^ began with, ' I am soitt to say, sir, I am not prepared, having been at a little party last night/ ' Y^ell, then,' said the Principal, ' yon, 3Ir. Preston,' turning to a man on his right hand ; ' you go on.' ^ Upon my word, sir/ said Preston, ' it is very unfortu- nate ; I am not prepared either, for I was at the same party with Wilson.' ' Oh,' said the Principal, ' it will never do to lose time in this way ; take your pencil and go through the propo- sition with me.' And then, step by step, went the Principal through the proposition with Preston, from the ' Theor.' to the ' Q. E. D.,' and Preston, having been thus di-agged through this new lesson, breathed thanks to himself that his mathematical lecture was over for that morning ; but to his astonishment, the Principal went on — ' Well, now you have mastered the proposition with me, let me hear you do it yom-self ; ' and Preston, with mantled cheek, acliing head, and faltering tongue, proceeded to do as he was bid, and though he had the Principal with smiling encouragement by his side as prompter, the result was anything but successfiJ. Absence of Ceremony, In London, an Alban Hall man, happening to be in the City on a drizzling day, saw in the Court Circular the annoimcement of the arrival of the Archbishop of Dublin at the Brims-\vick Hotel, Hanover Square, and having a favour to ask of him, hastened, splashed and muddy as he was, to the porter of the hotel, and giving him his card, asked him to enquire at what hour he might hope for the honour of an interview. The porter went, and promptly retmned with the unexpected message, ' The Aichbishop will see you now.' The applicant had no choice, but was, in his unpolished state of dress and unprimed state of mind, ushered into the drawing-room, where were as- * The real names are suppressed. MISCELLANEOUS KECOLLECTIOXS. 451 sembled the Archbishop, Mrs. Whately, and one of their daughters. The Archbishop, taking him by the hand and pointing to a chair, said, ' Oh, I am at your service without any appointment,' and the confused and bespattered visitor was at once plunged into the object of his audience. Benevolence, A married member of the Hail, remarkable for docility and diligence, had oveiTated his pecuniary competency, and had resolved to take his name oflf the books. He waited on the Principal, and communicated to him his determination and its cause. 'Ah,' said the Principal, ' the great drawback of our hall is, tliat it is so poor an endowment. However, if some moderate help will keep you at your studies, I'll do this for you — I'll advance you lOOZ. to be repaid without interest, when, and when only, you, with perfect convenience to yourself, like to do so.' The generous offer was respectfully and gratefully declined by him, whom the Principal on a subsequent occasion called ' the coolest enthusiast he had ever met with.' But Whately's benevolence stands out to notice. NOTES BY W. BROOKE, ESQ. ' Children,' the Archbishop remarked, ' who have once seen a dog — say a terrier — will, if they meet a greyhound or spaniel, pronounce it at once to be a dog ; this occurs invariably, though there is less likeness between a grey- hound and a terrier, than between a horse and an ass. The characteristics of the dog are instantly recognised. ' The New Zealanders must have been greatly puzzled to find names for the quadrupeds as they were introduced from Europe. For a long time pigs only were known in the island. They called a cow, a pig that gives milk and a horse, a pig that carries a man.' 452 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOr WHATELT. • When larches were introduced into England during the last century, they were put into greenhouses. They of course withered, and the boxes which held them were thrown, with the plants, out on a dung-heap. There they grew into great trees. It was thought that, coming from the south of Em'ope, they would require warmth, forget- ting that they grew near the snow.' ' The London rocket is a curious plant ; it appeared soon after the great fire of London, when whole acres of the city were reduced to embers and cinders. It came up directly throuoh the ashes. The same thing: occurred after continual bm-ning and charring of trees in the Botanic Gardens. This has never been explained.' ' When timber is felled, wood of a different kind succeeds : e. g.. when an oak forest is levelled there comes up larch, after larch poplar.' FEOM A FRIEND. I have been asked to add a few reminiscences of my own to this Memoir, and I cannot refuse to comply, for it was my privilege to know much of that gentler side of the Archbishop's character, which was best seen by those who were admitted into the inner circle of his varied life. They can testify to his patience under hea^'y domestic sorrow, and to his self-control. Ever ready to lay open the stores of his richly-filled memory, nothing pleased him more than to be asked a question by anyone who really desired information ; and his peculiarly happy method of impressing all that he taught upon the minds of those whom lie instructed, made it a great pleasure to draw him out in this way, to ques- tion him, and even to be questioned by him — a process which invariably followed his giving any reply. He would spare no pains to illustrate his meaning, nor to convey MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS. 453 knowledge which was desired. One day he had to go some distance on very painful business ; but he did not forget that about a mile out of his way was to be found a rare shrub which his visitor from London liad never seen, and he drove round to procure a branch to show her. With all his lack of ' veneration,' the Archbishop had a deep reverence for the Scriptures, and the doubts by which he lived to see them assailed were very painful to him even to hear of. ' Have you ever read any of 's books ? ' he asked me one day, mentioning one of the leaders of the ' Doubting School.' I replied that I had not. ' Tlien do not read them,' he added ; ' if I were , I would deny the whole Bible at once ; that would be much less trouble than picking it to pieces as he is doing.' In 1861 I was visiting the Archbishop's son-in-law and daughter at Shelford, and we visited the Geological Museum at Cambridge with him one day. On the way thither he had expressed a strong opinion against the 'Origin of Species,' which he had just been reading. When we came to the huge fossil of the Dinornis, in this Museum, turning to Mr. Wale, he exclaimed : ' I wonder how long it took for this fellow to develop from a mush- room ! ' His interest in the pursuits of his daughters was great, The music of one of those at home soothed and cheered him, while he had the power of listening ; and the sketches of the other were the source of much amusement and de- light. The Archbishop's inexhaustible flow of humour made him a constant peg upon which to hang all sorts of bad or revived jokes. ^The Archbishop's last' was a stock title for the Irish penny-a-liners, and he was fre- quently amused to see himself heralded fortli as the author of some miserable pun or antiquated witticism. A w^ell- known old joke thus appeared one day, and the Archbishop sliowed it to me, saying in a pathetic tone, ' I ought to walk about with my back chalked " Rubbish shot here." ' Few, however, of his sparkling utterances could be pre- served, for they were usually connected with circumstances of locality, or of individuals, which should be reproduced 454 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELT. in order to see their full value. One I remember that amused us much at the time. A lady from China who was dining with the Archbishop told him that English flowers reared in that country lose their perfume in two or three years. ' Indeed ! ' was the immediate remark, ' I had no idea that the Chinese were such de-sent-ers.' ' What are you doing ?' the Archbishop asked a visitor one day. ' Writing for ' was the answer. ' Very well,' he rejoined, ' use as few words as you can, and mind your similes.' But I must hasten on, lest I should seem to forget the first of those two concise rules. The morning of the day on which I arrived at Roebuck, on my visit in 1863, was the last on which the Archbishop was wheeled into breakfast. I read to him during that meal, as I had so often done before, and in spite of his painful debility, he entered into the subject of the paper with great interest, interrupting me with questions or remarks, as formerly. On the morning on which the reading of his daughter's ^IS. of ' More about Ragged Life in Eg}-pt ' was finished, he took his gold pen from his pocket, and giving it to her, said : ' I shall never use this again, ; take it, and go on.' It was touching to see how clearly he recognised the approaching footsteps of death ; how calmly he resigned one object of interest after another, and patiently waited for the next indication of decay. His careful thought for others was shown in many ways, as long as he was able to make himself imderstood. ' Do not read to tire yourself,' he was constantly saving. ' Is the guard on the fire ?' he asked a few days before his death, when speaking had already become very difficult to him, ' for I was afraid you went too near to it.' It was about that time that a clergyman from a remote part of Ireland called at the house. His name was not known to the daughters, and Mr. Dickinson happening to be out, I was requested to see him. Apologizing for his intrusion, the gentleman said that he had come up in the hope of being permitted to see his Grace again. I hesitated, and then told him that the Archbishop could no MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS. 455 longer receive callers, and rarely now recognised any fresh face; but oar visitor urged his plea. ' The Archbishop educated my sons, and I would give anything to look at his face but once more.' I could not resist this, and I led him into the room. The Archbishop did not open his eyes, but to see him was all that the clergyman wanted ; and after standing for a few minutes at his bedside, with tears running down his cheeks, he left the house, and I found that the Archbishop's munificence had not been previously known to his family. The Sunday before his death he seemed imconscious, and I read Komans viii. (a chapter for which he had asked more than once during his illness) by his side, not being quite sure, however, that he could hear or notice it. In- stinctively I read vv. 33, 34, as he had taught me to do, on a previous visit : ' Who shall lay any thing to the charge of Grod's elect? Is it God, that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth ? Is it Christ, that died,' &c. The eyes of the dying man opened for a moment, ' That is quite right,' he whispered. A few days afterwards we stood round him, and saw him gently ' fall asleep,' leaving with us the lasting re- membrance of the upward look, and the bright and heavenly smile which, not many moments before, had illuminated his face. The newspapers of the day duly recorded the circum- stances of the funeral, and told of every shop being shut, one only excepted ; of the Cathedral being crowded as it had never been before ; and of such a concourse in the streets of Dublin as had not been known on any occasion of a similar kind. A little incident escaped them which he would have noticed with great interest, in the case of anyone else. The remains of the Archbishop were removed from Roebuck to the Palace (between three and four miles off) on the evening of the day on which he died. On the morning of the funeral, a week afterwards, his little black dog ' Jet ' was missing. He was found on the steps of the Palace when the porter opened the door, between six and 4o0 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WIIATELY. seven o'clock, and at once went to tlie room in which the body lay. He watched the preparations, and when the procession set forth. Jet took up his position under the hearse. In this way he accompanied the funeral to the door of the Cathedral, and when the coffin was carried in, he left the place, and returned to Eoebuck.^ E. A. W. TO THESE NOTES THE WEITER ADDS A FEW REmXISCEXCES OF HER OWN. All who have read any of my father's works will be aware of his careful attention to style. He would never allow a carelessly-framed sentence to escape him ; and even in ordinary familiar conversation the correctness and clearness of his manner of expressing himself was a cha- racteristic which could not fail to strike ordinary observers. His words in general might be taken down and written in a book as they fell from his lips, without any need of alteration or omission, so free was his discourse from the colloquial slip-slop expressions and the kind of short-hand elliptical manner of speaking so common in unconstrained familiar converse. Macaulay was his favourite modern historian, and in his Essays he took never-failing delight. He would repeat by heart whole passages from these essays, and from other favourite writers, which seemed to him to possess real eloquence, with a spirit and fervour which make these passages identified with his memoiy in the minds of all who knew him well. An apt and happy comparison always delighted him ; and his own peculiar excellence in this department seemed only to make his appreciation of others more lively. He has been described as nearly destitute of poetical * This dog is now in the possession of a friend noar Dublin. MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIOXS. 457 taste ; but this is not a fair representation of his mind. His taste in poetry was indeed somewhat limited, but what he did like he enjoyed intensely. For the modern school of poetry he had little taste, we might almost say little toleration. Of the poetry of his own day, he was impatient of Wordsworth, and Byron he admired without taking pleasure in him. But for the poetry of Walter Scott he had an intense admiration. He would repeat long passages of the ' Lady of the Lake ' and ' Eokeby ' with a spirit and enthusiasm hardly to be exceeded. He delighted in Scott's ballads, border minstrelsy, &c., in the shorter poems of Campbell and Moore, and in Burns uni- versally. His reading of some special favourites was a thing to be long remembered ; but the contemplative style of poetry had little charm for him, and of the didactic school he was positively impatient. Crabbe's ' Tales of the Hall ' and ' Borough ' were never-failing favourites. He did not like constantly reading aloud, but would often take a tale of Crabbe or a passage from Scott's poems, and read it with a life and expression which gave it quite a new character. ' The Parting Hour,' and the celebrated de- scription of the Felon's last sleep in the ' Borough,' were peculiar favourites ; the latter he could not read without deep emotion and a faltering voice. Shakespeare was a never-failing favourite, and his reading of particular plays and passages was long re- membered by his friends as a rich intellectual treat. Mr. Dickinson has noticed his intense desire for sym- pathy. Perhaps to this strongly marked characteristic may be referred also his dislike of others ditFering from him on matters of taste and feeling, as well as in opinions. This feeling may have led at times to the charge of in- tolerance, as it had sometimes practically the same effect ; yet no one was more largely tolerant in principle. I have mentioned this peculiarity as perhaps accounting for some apparent discrepancies in his character. His knowledge of history was more varied and exten- , sive than critically accurate. As was the case with all his pursuits, his memory for facts was retentive, whenever 458 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP TVHATELY. tkose facts could be brought to illustrate principles ; otherwise as niere facts he cared little for them. Of chronology and geography, he would say, ' As they are called the tico eyes of history, my history is stone blind.' This must be taken with some reservation. It is true he was not generally ready in remembering names and dates ; but anything which threw light on the history of mankind generally, or on any important principle, moral, political, or social, was eagerly seized and carefully retained in his memory. He took great interest in miU- tary affairs, and entered even into the minute details of such changes in the art of war as might react on national history : even the description of warlike weapons and arms had a charm for him ; and some of the female members of his family long remembered the disappoint- ment they felt, when at a breakfast at his friend Mr. Senior's, at which he and Lord Macaulay and Sir James Stephen were to meet, instead of the 'feast of reason and flow of soul ' they had looked forward to, in the meeting of four such remarkable persons, the conversation ran during the whole time on the history of improvements in the implements of war, which, to the ladies of the party, could have little interest. The curious inventions of savages had a peculiar in- terest for him, and the pleasure he took in trying experi- ments with the Australian boomerang, the throwing-stick, &c., is remembered by all his friends. All that concerned the history of civilisation interested and occupied him ; and especially all that could throw light on his favourite axiom, that man could never have civilised himself ; from which it followed necessarily that civilisation was first taught to man by his Creator. In the arrangements of his own private study there was a curious mixture of order and disorder. To outward eyes the contents of his library were thrown together in the most heterogeneous manner possible — books placed side by side without the least regard to size, binding, or subject. But he always could find his way through the chaos to any book he wanted, and disliked interference MISCELLANEOUS RECOLLECTIONS. 469 with his arrangements, and, above all, an attempt to put his books to rights. His own literary labours were usually solitary. He did not like anyone, whether in or out of his immediate circle, to invade his sanctum. But after writing a memorandum for his Commonplace Book, or a note for a new edition of one of his works, he liked to bring it to his family and read it aloud to them. 4G0 LIFE OF AKCnBISHOP WHATELY. TABLE TALK. I. Remarl's on Public Life as a Test of Character. The following remarks are found in his Private Xote- book, after some severe strictnres on individual miscon- duct : — On looking back at what I have written, and observing how large a proportion of those I have mentioned I have been obliged to speak of with reprobation or contempt, it occiurs to me to ask myself, How is this ? Is it that the world is really so much worse than most people think ? or that I look at it with a jaundiced eye ? On reflection I am satisfied that it is merely this, that I have been much concerned in important ^w6//c; transactions, and that it is in these that a man can render liimself so much more and more easily conspicuous by knavery or folly, or misconduct of some kind, than by good conduct. * The wheel that is weak is apt to creak.' As long as matters go on smoothly and rightly they attract little or no notice, and furnish, as is proverbial, so little matter for history that fifty years of peace and prosperity will not occupy so many pages as five of wars and troubles. As soon as anything goes wrong, our attention is called to it, and there is hardly anyone so contemptible in ability, or even in situation, that has it not in his power to cause something to go wrong. Ordinary men, if they do their duty well, attract no notice except among their personal intimates. It is only here and there a man, possessing very extraordinaiy powers, and that too combined with peculiar opportimities, that can gain any distinction among men by doing good. Inventas aut qui ritam excoluere per artes ; Qui sui memores alios fecere merendo. But, on the other hand, almost everybody has both TABLE TALK. 461 capacity and opportunities for doing mischief. 'Dead flies cause the precious ointment to stink.' A ploughman who lives a life of peaceful and honest industry is never heard of beyond his own hamlet ; but arson or murder may cause him to be talked about over great part of the king- dom. And there is many a quiet and highly useful clergy- man, labouring modestly in his own parish, whom one would never have occasion to mention in any record of public affairs ; but two or three mischievous fanatics or dema- gogues, without having superior ability, or even labouring harder, may fill many a page of history. It is not therefore to be inferred from what I have written either that knaves and fools are so much more abundant than men of worth and sense, nor yet, again, that I think worse of mankind than others do, but that I have been engaged in a multitude of public transactions, in which none but men of very superior powers, and not^ always they, could distinguish themselves for good^ while, for mischief, almost everyone has capacity and opportuni- ties. As for those who take what is considered as a more good-humoured view of the world, and seldom find fault with anyone, as far as my observation goes, I should say that most of these think far worse of mankind than I do. At first sight this is a paradox ; but if anyone examine closely, he will find that it is so. He will find that the majority of those who are pretty well satisfied with men as they find them, do in reality disbelieve the existence of such a thing as an honest man — I mean of what really deserves to be called so. They censure none but the most atrocious monsters, not from believing that the generality of men are upright, exempt from selfishness, baseness and mendacity, but from believing that all without exception are as base as themselves, unless perhaps it be a few half- crazy enthusiasts ; and they are in a sort of good-humour with most part of the world, not from finding men good, but from having made up their minds to expect them to be bad. 'Bad^ indeed, they do not call them, because they feel no disgust at any but most extraordinary wicked- 4G2 LIFE OF AECHBISHOP WHATELY. ness ; but they have made up their minds that all men are what I should call utterly worthless ; and ' having divided (as Miss Edgeworth expresses it) all mankind into knaves and fools, when they meet with an honest man, they don't know what to make of him.' Now he, who from his own consciousness is certain that there is at least one honest man in the world, will feel all but certain that there must be more. He will speak, indeed, in stronger terms of censm'e than the other of those who act in a way that he would be ashamed of and shocked at in himself, and which to the other seems quite natural and allowable ; but, on the other hand, if anyone does act uprightly, he will give him credit for it, and not attribute his conduct (as the other ^vill be sure to do) either to hypocrisy or to unac- coimtable whim, to a secret motive, or to none at all. So that, as I said, he who at the first glance appears to think the more favourably of mankind, thinks in reality the less favourably, since he abstains from complaining of or blaming them, not from thinking them good, but from having no strong disapprobation of what is bad, and no hope of anything better. Most important is it, especially for young people, to be fully aware of this distinction. Else they natm'ally di\dde men into those who are disposed to think well of men in general, and those disposed to think ill ; and besides other sources of confusion, will usually form a judgment the very reverse of the right, from not thinking at all of the different senses in which men are said to think well or to think ill of others. In short, one must make the distinction, which sounds very subtle, but is in truth great and important, between one who believes men generally to be what he thinks bad, and what is in reality bad ; between one who approves, or does not greatly disapprove, the generality, according to his own standard ; and one who thinks them such as we should approve. TABLE TALK. 463 II. Public Men. Generally speaking, I should say that most public men I have known have rather a preference for such persons as have no very high description of intellect, or high prin- ciple, but who have understanding enough to perceive readily what is wanted of them by men in power, and who can be depended on to do it faithfully and unscrupulously, and to defend it with some plausibility ; avoiding all such absurdities and blunders as might get their leaders into scrapes, but wearing winkers like a gig-liorse to prevent their seeing anything which they have no business with. ' None are for me, that look into me with enquiring eyes ; henceforth I'll deal with ironwitted fools and unrespective boys.' One of the errors they are apt to commit in point of policy (to say nothing of higher considerations) is to for- get how incomparably more important service may be rendered them by a man of high intellectual and moral character, if he supports, suppose, only two out of three of their measures, than by all the third-rate or fourth-rate time-servers they can gather around them. A really able man, of unsuspected integrity and public spirit, carries more weight when he supports a Minister, than a whole shipload of such rabble as they usually prefer to him ; and when he does not support some measure, that very circumstance has at least the advantage that it proves him not to be unduly biassed, and consequently gives double importance to the support he does give in other matters. Another mistake they are apt to make as to the same point, is to suppose too hastily that the man will be as faithful to them as a dog, while he has no more notion of fidelity to the public and to the principles of rectitude than a dog has ; — that one who has no troublesome notions of honour and virtue to interfere with his being a time- server, will not leave his patrons in the lurch when he can advance himself by it. But they are apt, when any such thing occurs, to make a great outcry against treachery and ingratitude and they are apt, too, to take for LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELl'. granted that a person of slender ability, not likely to rival them as an eminent statesman, or to criticise very power- fully their procedure, will not have cunning enough to outwit them and play them various tricks. If they were better read in Bacon's Essays, these might have shown them (and so might daily experience) how^ much cunning may be possessed by men otherwise of mean abilities. III. On Popular Admiration, The sort of admiration with which men such as are regarded in Ireland has always been a matter of per- plexing difficulty to me. Not that I have not often found a similar admiration gained in England by just such quali- ties as his — 'versus inopes rerum, nugseque canorse' — but then fluent bluster and fine-sounding superficial declama- tion are what the English generally are not gifted with. The liking of the vulgar, whose tastes and intellect are uncultivated, for all kinds of tinsel is quite natural. But whatever liking savages may have for gaudy beads, they will never set a high value on them when very common and cheap ; and the great estimation of the English vulgar for such trumpery as Prospero put in the way of Caliban and his drunken comrades might be understood to pro- ceed from the scarcity among the English of fluent orators. But what has always puzzled me is that in Ireland, not at all less than in England, we always have from time to time certain ranting declaimers followed about and applauded by great multitudes, and yet to me, as a stranger, it seems as if three out of every four Irishmen could do nearly the same. And how a man can gain admiration for a talent so nearly universal is the puzzle. I suppose there is so much greater difference than I perceive ; and that their appearing to me so nearly on a par with each other is just like the mistake of those who being unused to negroes fancy they are all alike. . . But some kind of talent there must always be in everyone who accomplishes an object which many others would accomplish if they could, but cannot. TABLE TALK. 465 IV. On the Education Committee in the House, It was an unwise thing in me to suffer my name to be on the Lords' Committee on the Irish Education Board. I made the mistake of supposing that the Lords really- regarded it — as they ought to have done — as a delibera- tive, not as a judicial question ; and that the great object of the Leo'islature of both Houses was to ascertain whether the system was working well for the country, and whether any better could be substituted. But tliey regarded it as a judicial question : the Opposition v. the Education Com- missioners ; with Ministry and their supporters engaged as advocates on the side of the latter, as feeling themselves bound to support the men and the measures they had brought forward. But the Ministers themselves seemed to think they were doing something of a favour to the Commissioners in giving them their support and grants of public money ; and all supporters as well as opponents of Ministers spoke in a tone as if they thought that Par- liament had been doing us the favour, in being so good as to allow us to biu-den ourselves with a toilsome office for the public good. , accordingly, when he spoke on one occasion of the unfairness of placing me on the Committee, as if to be a judge in my own cause— as if / had any personal interest in the matter — absurd as his remarks intrinsically were, did not depart much from the notion aiBoat in the House. Unaware at the time of this kind of feeling in the House, I allowed myself to be placed on the Committee, instead of offering — as I ought to have done — to be exa- mined as a witness. I remember not long after this, Lord Anglesey met me in the lobby, and was talking about the evidence that liad been given, and mentioned to me, that he (who had been Lord-Lieutenant at the time of my ap- pointment to the see of Dublin) had offered himself as a witness, but had been refused. ' I should have liked,' said he, ' to have had an opportunity of stating what I H H 40G LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. should have thought of the man who would have dared to propose conditions to your Grace.' That man knew me. V. On Lord Melbourne as a Statesman, After all, Lord Melbourne's plan was to let every thing- alone, good or bad, till forced to make a change. He was the highest Conservative I ever knew. For he was not like many so-called, who have really persuaded themselves that such and such alleged abuses are realty good ; he saw in many cases, and has often pointed out to me, the evils of such and such institutions ; adding, however, that he was very sorry they should ever have been meddled with : 'I say, Archbishop, all this reforming gives a deuced deal of trouble, eh ? eh ? I wish they'd let it all alone.' Any change, in whatever department, was to him so much greater an evil than the continuance of any abuse, that he would always avoid it if he could. But then he had, which most Conservatives have not, shrewdness enough to per- ceive when it was unavoidable, and then he always wel- comed it with so much gladness that many people were alarmed with a dread of his going too far ; and thus he offered the most effectual check to innovations. For John Bull becomes furious at a very obstinate opposition to some change, which he conceives called for ; but if it is readily granted, the innate conservatism of the nation is called forth very strongly. He is like a restive horse, which, if you turn his head away from the ditch he is backing towards, and whip and spur him from it, will back the more violently ; but if you turn him towards it, and seem rather to urge him that way, will shrink from it. Lord Melbourne took the latter mode. Yet though he thought with the Tories, and acted with the Whigs, I always vin- dicated him from the charge of inconsistency. A man is not a traitor for surrendering a town to the enemy when untenable, instead of waiting to have it stormed and sacked ; though in so doing he is acting with those wlio wish the enemy to have possession of it, while his feelings and wishes are with those who are for holding out and TABLE TALK. 4G7 dying in the breach. He differed from the Whigs in de- precating all changes, good or bad ; he differed from the (other) Tories in conceding readily what he saw to be in- evitable. Yet this man will probably go down to posterity as a zealous reformer I A monument to Sir Kobert Peel and the Duke as the authors of Catholic emancipation and free trade and the Maynooth grant, and another to Lord Melbourne as the friend to parliamentary reform, tithe reform, the Irish Temporalities Act, and the abolition of slavery, these should certainly stand side by side, and a most laughable pair they would be. ' I say, Archbishop, what do you think I'd have done about this slavery business, if I'd had my own way? I'd have done nothing at all ! I'd have left it all alone. It's all a pack of nonsense ! Always have been slaves in all the most civilised countries ; tlie Greeks and Komans had slaves ; however, they tvould have their fancy, and so we've abolished slavery ; but it's great folly, &c.' And this was the general tone of his conver- sation, and a specimen of his political views. VI. On the Duke of Wellington's Administration. Speaking of the Duke's being made Chancellor of Ox- ford : ' When Fortune,' says Cicero, ' thrusts us into situations for which nature has not adapted us, we must do our best to perform the part as little indecorously as we can.' But when a man thrusts himself into them, a failure, even when it would otherwise have been very pardonable, ex- poses him to just contempt. The Duke of Wellington exposed himself to derision for not having been able to repeat the Latin phrases put be- fore him, without making false quantities, on being ap- pointed Chancellor of the University of Oxford, though there is many an able military and naval commander who could make no better hand of it, and who deserves no con- tempt at all, because he does not court or accept any such office. And if I were to accept the command of a troop of cavalry (which, in jest, I asked Lord Wellesley to confer on H H 2 468 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. me at that time), I should richly deserve scorn for being un- horsed, as I dare say I should be, in the first charge. But there was something more inconsistent in the zeal with which he entered into the persecution, and refused to witness in behalf of Hampden, when appealed to against the utterly illegal proceedings that were going on. He was just equally inflexible to the applications (during the negotiations for the general peace) of the Vaudois, for some interference to mitigate the persecution they were exposed to ; and again, to all the claims of the Roman Catholics for civil rights ; and again, of the Jews ; till he found it con- venient to yield to popular opinion and bring forward those measures himself. It is all perfectly consistent. He is most impartial to all religions. Those who are the strongest in each country are, in his view, justified in putting down and keeping down all other religionists as long as they can ; and the inferior party have nothing to do but submit, and eitlier profess whatever religion is established, or contentedly to let themselves be trampled on till they are strong enough ; and then let them turn the tables if they can. ' Vse victis ' is his motto. And I never knew anyone avow the principle more frankly. In the debate on the Jews' Relief Bill (when it was thrown out), in replying to me, and among other things to my introduction of the parallel case of the Roman Catholic Relief Bill, he denied the parallel, 'because,' said he, ' there was " a necessity " in that case and not in this.' And, indeed, in most of his speeches he used to take every opportunity of rather boasting than not, of his readiness to grant anything to intimidation, and nothing without ; although it is curious to observe the contrast between his military and his political career, and also the high admi- ration bestowed by a large number, at least, on both, "VVliat degree of ability he showed in each is a matter of opinion ; but his extraordinary success in the one, and his uniform failure in the other, is a matter of fact. To me it seems that the analogous course to that which he pursued in politics would, in his campaigns, have in- sured him the like defeats ; in this I may be, perhaps, TABLE TALK. mistaken ; but at any rate he did succeed in war, and in the field of civil government he most signally failed. I remember that of two different persons, both men of sense, (Senior was one), to whom I made the remark, each re- joined that there was an exception to the list of his failure? ; his carrying through the difficult measure of the Emanci- pation. On each occasion I expressed my astonishment at this being reckoned an instance of success, which I had been reckoning among his most remarkable defeats. Heaven send all my enemies such success I He had utterly disapproved of the measure all along ; he did not at all cease to disapprove it ; he granted it with a thoroughly bad grace ; and gave way because he found, to use his own expression, ' there was a necessity.' But still it is to be reckoned among his great actions, because, forsooth, he did it himself, and, moreover, showed great skill in managing the details of the measure ! I replied, that if instead of maintaining himself in the lines of Torres Vedras, he had found himself obliged to abandon them, and had accordingly destroyed his magazines to prevent their falling into the enemy's hands, spiked his cannon, shot his horses, and embarked his army in safety, though he might have received credit for doing the work well, it would hardly have been reckoned among his tHumphs, Now just such was the exploit of cariylng, as it was called, the great measure of Emancipation. If he had carried matters in the same way in war, the French would soon have cleared the Peninsula of us. And, after all, it was done in such a way as to create no gratitude in the parties benefited ; for which, by the bye, they are often reproached ; but who could suppose them such fools as to be grateful to those who granted what they lacked power to refuse, and who never even attempted to make a virtue of necessity, but always pro- claimed that it was ' by force and against their will ' ? One might as well be grateful to an ox for a beef-steak. But • to O'Connell, whom they regarded as the butcher that felled the ox, the Irish have always been even over-grateful. The tone that the Duke always assumed was that of 470 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. apologising to his own original party for a step whicli was as disagreeable to him as to them. And yet after all he was so far from pacifying them, that they panished them- selves, to be revenged on him, by tm-ning him out for revenge sake. It was not his o^vn fiiult that he did not obtain another such triumph by passing the Eeform Bill ; wliich he offered to do, but could not find support. This, which, next to Emancipation, he had always most strenu- ously opposed, was carried in spite of him ; and free trade, his other great aversion, is opening its buds, and will come into flower probably in his own time ; and this measure also he has carried.' He has, indeed, always proved a considerable impedi- ment to every measure he disliked ; but he has been always defeated on eveiy point, though always making a light ; and moreover, while he always in war foresaw and made timely provision for a retreat, when necessary, in politics he has always maintained his position to the last moment, and then surrendered at discretion. VII. Oil yielding to Popular Clamour. To yield readily whatever is just (whenever it can be done with safety to the public and without detriment to the very persons sought to be benefited), and firmly to resist unjust claims, this, simple as it seems, is the course which, in a country like Ireland, is the most difficult to be steadily adhered to. The difficulty arises in the case of a people who have been so very ill-governed as to have become brutalised and degraded in character. A little injustice, a short continuance of a gi'ievance, may serve to quicken a per- son's perception and abhorrence of what is wrong, but a long continuance of it debases the character, and produces selfishness, ferocity, craft, and cruelty, combined. If a man loses, as Homer says, ' half his virtue the day he be- comes a slave,' he is likely, if belong continue one, to lose most of the other half. Never was there a popular and admired remark more remote from truth than Sterne's on TABLE TALK. 471 tlie negro slave : ' She had suffered persecution, and had learnt mercy.' There cannot be a worse school, at least to remain long in, for the learning of mercy. It is found that slaves make the severest slave masters ; and those who have been the worst treated, as slaves, the worst masters ; among others, the boys who have been the most cruelly fagged at school are observed to be generally the cruellest fag masters. Now the result of all this is, that ninety-nine out of a hundred are completely under the dominion of one of two errors ; either from perceiving the debased, crafty, fero- cious spirit, and the folly and ignorance of those who have been very long oppressed, they thereupon lose all sym- pathy for them, and consider them as deserving a continu- ance of brutal treatment, because they have been brutalised by it ; or else, sympathising with them on account of the injustice they have suffered, they are thence led to think well of them, and trust them. A man of more goodness of heart than strength of head is apt, in such a case, to put himself in the place of the sufferers, and consider what an abhorrence of injustice and cruelty he would feel, retaining those just and humane sentiments which he actually has, but which they have lost. And thence he will be for setting them quite free, and leaving them to right themselves and help themselves to what they will, and govern themselves as they please. I have always said, on the contraiy, that if a persecuted or enslaved people did retain a proper sense of justice, did remain tit for complete self-government, then I should not think perse- cution and oppression near so great evils as I do think them. The moral and intellectual degradation they pro- duce are among the chief of their attendant evils. But from both the one and the other of the above two errors few are found exempt. Generally speaking, the Tories fall into the former, and the Whigs into the latter, e.g. at the outbreak of the P'rench Eevolution one finds the Tory writers advocates of the old regime^ and deprecating all the innovations and pointing out how unfit for liberty and self-government the French people showed themselves, and 472 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. the Whigs, till fairly frightened out of their wits, exulting in the brilliant prospects opening on France from the un- restricted licence of a people so long oppressed. These latter were often converted, by the horrors of the Revolu- tion, into the former. Sir James Mackintosh seems in a great degree to have gone through these two stages. The long-oppressed and now liberated people began by destroy- ing their oppressors, and then the whole class they belonged to, and then all advocates of moderate measures, and lastly, one another. So it was with the negroes in Hayti. So it is, and ever will be, says Thucydides, ' as long as human nature remains the same.' And those who cannot learn from him cannot learn from experience. For with all the examples of history before us, the genuine Tories are for bringing back the penal laws or other restrictions in Ireland, and the Whigs are for either repealing the Union or letting the Irish Roman Catholics have quite their own way. The most difficult of tasks is tlie cautious and gentle removal of an oppressive yoke, and the imparting of freedom and power to men, as they are able to bear it. It is more like the feeding of the famished than anything else. It is easy to say, ' This man's stomach is not in a good state for digestion, therefore give him nothing,' or ' The man is hungry, set him down to a full table.' In the one case he dies of famine, in the other of a surfeit. In like manner, it is a very easy and coarse and clumsy procedure to go on treating as children or as brutes those who have been long oppressed, and to repress by main force all attempts on their part to free or elevate them- selves, and the result is that, at the best, you keep a certain number of your fellow- creatures degraded into brutes ; at the worst, that a sudden explosion takes place, and you have a sort of servile war, or jacquerie. It is equally simple and easy to throw the reins on the neck of an unbroken horse. France, even in the memory of people now living, has furnished examples of both these plans, and their results. But a large portion of mankind are incapable of learning from experience. TABLE TALK. 473 VII r. On the Protestant Church in Ireland. The establishment of a Protestant Church in Ireland, which by many thoughtless Liberals and designinof dema- gogues is spoken of as a burden to the Irish nation, and which the ultra-Protestants speak of as nothing to be at all complained of by the mass of the people, should be viewed, though no burden, yet as a grievance, as being an insult. The real burden to the Roman Catholic population is one which they are not accustomed to complain of as such : the maintenance of their own priests. And, in like manner, the Orangemen have been accustomed (as Senior has justly remarked in his Eeview on Ireland, in 'The Edinburgli ') to defend the insult on the ground that it is no injury, and the injury on the ground that it is no insult. Tliey say, and truly, that the support of the Established clergy is no burden, and again, that it is no degradation to the people to maintain, as the Dissenters in England do, their own clergy. And they have an advantage in maintaining this fallacy, inasmuch as their opponents complain of that as a burden which is not the real burden. Misled by this, the Whig Ministers thought to give satisfaction by lightening the burden — when in fact there was no burden at all — by diminishing the revenues of the Church. Whereas, if you were to cut off three-fourths of the revenues, and then three-fourths of the remainder, you would not have ad- vanced one step towards conciliation, as long as the Protestant Church is called the National Church. The members of our communion here should be a branch of the English Church, just as there is one in India, or in any other of our foreign possessions. No one talks of the Church of India, or of the ' United Church of England, Ireland, and India.' And there is no jealousy or dis- pleasure excited, as there probably would be if the Hindoos and Mussulmans, and Parsees and Roman Catholic Christians, &c., were told that ours is the ' National Church' in their country. In advocating Catholic Eman- cipation and the payment of the priests (not, as puzzle- 474 LIFE OF AKCHBISHOP WHATELY. headed bigots are accustomed to say, by a Protestant Government, but out of the revenues of a nation, partly Protestant and partly Eomish — revenues to which both contribute, and in wliich both have a right to an equitable share), and in supporting the system of schools, at which all should be bona fide admissible without doing violence to the conscience of parents, who have already, by the law of the land, had conceded to them the right of educating their children in their own faith, — in all this I and those who thought with me were considered as half Papists or Latitudinarians by one party, while by the other, the so-called Liberals, we were considered as most whimsi- cally inconsistent for our steady opposition to Roman Catholic principles. IX. On the Employment of Time. had been speaking of the very great difference in the kind and amount of the talents with which different men are intrusted ; and added that there was one which all had an equal measure of, their time. I took the liberty of remarking to him that though this at first sounds even self-evident, it is not true when one comes to reflect ; for the twenty-four hours pass every day to all men alike, whether they are asleep or awake, sick or well. In this sense time is no talent at all ; it is so only in respect of the quantity of vital energy, of power to act, that each person enjoys ; and in this there is hardly any kind of talent more unequally distributed, the quantity of daily exertion that men are capable of being very different. I also ventured to criticise a passage where he was saying, in speaking of the recreations of clergymen, that there must be something very bad, morally, in any man who was not made quite cheerful and happy by looking at the fields and the sunshine, &c. Knowing, as I did, that good men are not exempt from morbid depression of spirits any more than from other diseases and trials of various kinds, I deprecated the cruelty of loading them SKETCH OF IIIS CHARACTER. 475 with the additional burden of harsh j udgments. He took my criticism very fairly, and did not deny that there was something in what I said. SKETCH OF THE CHARACTER OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY, BY ONE WHO HAD KNOWN HIM INTIMATELY AND OBSERVED HIM CLOSELY. In the following sketch om- aim has been to paint this remarkable man as he was, with his faults as well as his excellences. It is, in fact, by such an impartial por- traiture that the true greatness of a man's character stands out in the fullest relief, if he be truly great. We cannot truly appreciate him without taking a view of the natural defects and hindrances against which he had to struggle ; and thus a picture taken with all lights and no shades, cannot really do justice to its subject. It is no small confirmation of the truth of the general principles of phrenology, that when a plaster cast of Archbishop Whately was put into the hands of a phrenolo- gist, who knew nothing of the person from whom it was taken, he not only gave a generally correct character of the Archbishop, but dwelt specially on one quality which certainly was the leading feature in his mind. This was what in phrenological language is called the organ of concentrativeness, an organ which, though it lies at the base of the head, is said to exercise a peculiar influence over all the other organs, both moral and intellectual. It is described by phrenologists as the power of bringing all the energies to bear on a given object, and to act on all the mental faculties as a burning-glass to the sun's rays, gathering them all into a focus. This quality formed the keystone of Archbishop Whately's character ; it coloured his whole mind, and to it he owed most of his excellences, and also of his defects, moral and intellectual. His mind 476 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY, was always engrossed with some one principal object, to the exclusion of others, so that he could see but little of the by-play of life. It was this which was in some measure the cause of that abruptness of manner and occasional im- patience and want of attention to the minor courtesies of life, which has been so often remarked in him. There were, however, other causes also to account for these peculiarities ; by nature he was not only reserved, but shy and timid, and this, as has been observed in the memoir, was increased in his youth by the injudicious endeavours of his friends to counteract it. Intimately connected with the turn of mind we have described, was his utter indifference to rank, position, titles, and worldly honours in general. The writer of an article in a contemporary journal showed an utter want of com- prehension of Archbishop Whately's character, when he suggested that the dignity and honours of his office had been an inducement to enter on its responsibilities. He had, in fact, a dislike to all restraints and barriers, physi- cal and moral, and it was carried out even into the minutest details. He disliked an arm-chair, because it impeded the free movement of his arms ; he disliked a country broken up with walls, fences, and hedgerows, and preferred the most desolate and uninviting moorland, if it were but open. Even in his dress this impatience of restraint was manifested ; he abjured stiff collars, starch, and tight gar- ments of all kinds. And the same disposition was carried into social life ; but it is fair to state that these breaches of ' bienseance ' were only in minor details ; in higher matters, both principle and instinctive feeling kept him from everything that could in any way derogate from his character as a gentleman ; and that he was capable of the truest and most delicate courtesy, all who knew him could testify. And the simple dignity with which he took part in any important ceremonial, religious or secular, has often ])een remarked. Little as many would have suspected it, ' love of appro- bation,' to use the phrenological term, was a characteristic of his mind, though he never allowed it to influence his SKETCH OF HIS CHARACTER. 477 conduct in public life, and in tlie course of years grew less sensitive to the opinion of tlie world than he had been in early life ; but he never became as indifferent to it as people imagined. He clung with a tenacious firmness to those who could sympathise with him and coincide with his views (or who professed to do so), and this was perhaps one of his few earthly consolations in stemming the stream of popular opinion. And if this tendency did not influence his conduct in small matters, this was rather because his mind was one which habitually overlooked minor details. It was a curious apparent inconsistency, that with all this carelessness of conventionalities, there were certain points of etiquette on which he was rigidly scrupulous. Having once made up his mind that these points must not be neglected, he brought his whole vast energy of mind to bear on these small matters, just as he would have done in carrying out some great principle. It was an effort seldom made, from the expenditure of force it necessitated. It was like bringing a powerful steam engine to do a work which could be done with the hand. So again in the matter of dress, in which he had been very negligent in his early years ; having made up his mind, when entering on his episcopal office, that his position required some attention to this point, he rigidly adhered to the received standard, and no one of his family can remember ever seeing him carelessly or shabbily dressed. Still, his petty neglects in social matters did certainly tend to diminish his influence. By nature, as he always himself owned, he was prone rather to yield than to resist ; but his concentrative powers enabled him to bring all his force of character to counter- act this defect on all important occasions ; in small things, and when he was off his guard, the tendency might occa- sionally be observed. He always acknowledged himself to be by nature morally, if not physically, timid, and when taken by surprise and in little things, this disposition could be perceived. But whenever he had time to collect himself, he could face physical danger with perfect calm- ness, and stand unmoved by the most violent opposition ; 478 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. but in the latter case do one knew the effort it cost him. Nothing on this side the grave, he himself often said, could compensate for the struggle he underwent in stem- ming the tide of public opinion. Again, he was by nature irritable, and this was often shown in trifles, though much was sometimes attributed to this, which in fact was caused by his concentrativeness leading to carelessness about his tone and manner, and also causing a kind of impatience of everything which could impede the execution of his orders, or hinder the object he had in view. But in public affairs, and indeed whenever he had time to brace himself for an effort, his control over his temper was perfect. It may, perhaps, have been from the knowledge that this self-restraint was not natural or easy to him, that on certain points he entrenched himself behind an array of distinctly defined rules or general principles, which were to him as a fortress, within which he was impreg- nable. He did not multiply these rules, but, once laid down, he adhered to them steadily. His intellect, like his moral character, derived its colour mainly from the concentrative faculty alluded to ; and here, again, both his excellences and defects arose mainly from this source. The capability of continuous thought it gave him made his reasoning powers more effective, and often enabled him, as it were, to hunt down his game like a ' slow-hound,' where more rapid thinkers than himself would be baffled. He learnt slowly, as he always declared, both in logic and mathematics ; but his superiority in the first is un- contested ; while in the latter, though not a first-rate scholar, he was a first-rate teacher, as he was also in his own special department of logic. To a certain extent he was also a patient teacher ; that is, he was patient of slowness, in which he could sympathise ; but with in- attention he had neither sympathy nor patience, and did not fully allow for the unequal powers of attention possessed by different learners. As might be expected from his peculiar cast of mind, he was not hasty in form- ing his judgments ; and his arguments, though they might fail in establishing the conclusions he drew, could scarcely SKETCH OF Ills CHARACTER. 479 be called, strictly speaking, i?iconclusive. The point in which he did fail, and through which he was sometimes led into error, was the want either of power or incb'nation to carry out the process of induction with sufficient dili- gence, copiousness, and exactness. Had he been a judge, he would, but for the extreme cautiousness and great benevolence of his natm-e, have been led to condemn a criminal on an insufficient amount of circumstantial evi- dence; and certainly in his judgments of individuals he did occasionally condemn them on too slight grounds, or more severely than the case warranted. He needed to be reminded, both in his moral and intellectual estimates of men, that we cannot define a character after the fashion of Cuvier, who could by a single bone determine the class of animals to which it belonged. Men's minds and cha- racters cannot be mapped out in these sharply defined outlines ; and this Archbishop Whately sometimes over- looked in his estimate of literary merit. To quote one instance, among many, he undervalued Carlyle, and too hastily concluded that all his success was owing to the novelty and peculiarity of his style. Still his inductions were always just as far as they went ; the only fault was, that the body of evidence brought forward was sometimes not sufficient as a basis for the con- clusions they were intended to establish. And this was the more to be regretted, because, when his opinions were thoroughly matured and decided on any point, he seldom changed them ; scarcely ever on moral and religious mat- ters, or on questions of pure taste. In scientific matters he was more ready to alter his mind, and quite late in life he changed his views on several points of the kind, when fresh evidence had been brought before him. But if his opinions were rarely changed, they were slowly formed, and no one could be more candid in giving full weight to his opponent's objections, or more impartial in viewing both sides of the question. But when once his mind was made up, he ceased to look on the other side, and if fresh arguments or objections were brought forward, he seemed unable steadily to contemplate them. 480 LIFE OF ARCHBISHOP WHATELY. With regard to the poetical element, his mind was singularly constituted ; he had a vein of poetry running through his nature, but it was neither deep nor wide ; the stream was pm-e and the current strong, but its confines were narrow, and its bed shallow, and it never overflowed its banks. All the poetry he did like, he enjoyed intensely ; but his range, as has been elsewhere observed, was very limited, and for the contemplative and spiritual kind of poetry he had no taste. His vein of poetry was kept, as it were, completely separate from the other parts of his mind, and it rarely gave a colom* to his prose wi'itings. His comparisons and similes were indeed abundantly poured forth ; but if they were poetical, it was unconsciously so. Both his judgment and taste led him to keep the line of demarcation between his poetry and prose very strongly defined. This explains, in some measure, that peculiarity of his mental structure which gave rise to the remarks of his reviewers, ' that he did not seem to imderstand the mysteries of om- nature ; ' which, translated into ordinary language, means that he did not recognise any mode of arriving at truth except through the medium of the reason. He did not see the spiritual side of things (I am not using the word in a religious sense) — A primrose on the river's brim A yellow primrose vas to him, And it was nothing more. But I am not sure that the reviewers were right in speaking of this as a defect. It is no defect in a quadru- ped that he cannot fly. His whole structure is adapted for a different sphere ; and so it was with the mind of Dr. Whately ; and more than this, it is probable that the immense power of his reasoning faculties might have been impaired, and the keen edge of his logic blunted, had he possessed more of those other powers, which, though not incompatible with, seldom coexist with a large develop- ment of the reasoning powers. It cannot be denied that his writings and discourse-s would have been more popular had he possessed more of SKETCH OF HIS CHARACTER. 481 that faculty which I have called ' spiritual perception ' for want of a better name. It is not indeed highly developed in most men, but I think there are few so devoid of it as to be entirely satisfied with mere reasoning — whatever they want, they generally do want something to relieve the constant labour of passing from premise to conclusion. It must have been this want which was felt in Archbishop Whately's writings, for apart from it they had many elements of popularity ; his meaning was clear as crystal, and the combined energy, vivacity, and perspicuity of his style, caused it to be rightly compared to champagne, so that after reading his writings the works of most other writers appear flat and dead. Though equalled by few in the variety and extent of information he possessed, there were few subjects which he had so completely mastered as to be able to found a system on them. For both chemistry and mechanics he had, indeed, a great natural aptitude, and if he had had leisure or occa- sion to devote himself exclusively to either of these de- partments, he might have risen to eminence in them. As it was, the vast store of facts he had collected, both on these and on other subjects — scientific, literary, geogra- phical, &c., supplied him with an endless fund of illustra- tions, analogies, and instances in confirmation of general principles laid down. In conclusion, it may be said of him, more than per- haps of most of the master spirits of the age, that his work will long survive him, and the more so because his mission was not so much to found a new school or system, as to teach men the method by which to arrive at truth. And thus he may be instrumental, indirectly, in leading others to the discovery of truths which he himself would not have admitted. 482 LIST OF THE WRITINGS OF DR. WHATELY. The task of compiling a complete list of these writings is rendered extremely difficult by the fragmentary manner in which many of them appeared, and his habit of joint composition with others. The following is by no means complete ; but it is believed to contain the bulk of his avowed works, and to include some to which he only contributed his name and literary assistance, and others ascribed to him on good authority : with the dates of their first publication, so far as these have been ascertained. Historic Doubts relative to Napoleon Bonaparte . . . .1819 Bampton Lectures : Use and Abuse of Party Feeling in Matters of Religion 1822 Sermons 1823 Essays on some of the Peculiarities of the Cliristian Religion . 1825 Elements of Logic 1826 Elements of Rhetoric 1828 Essays on the Writings of St. Paul 1828 View of the Scripture Revelations concerning the Future State . 1829 Essays on the Errors of Romanism 1830 Reverses : or, the Fairfax Family. By Mrs. Whately . . 1831 Thoughts on the Sabbath 1832 Evidence on Tithes 1832 Thoughts on Secondary Punishments 1832 Reply to Government Plan of National Education , . . 1832 Introductory Lectures on Political Economy 1832 Speech on Jewish Disabilities 1833 Letter to Earl Grey on Transportation 1834 Charges and Tracts 1836 Introductory Lectures on Christian Evidences . .1838 LIST OF THE WRITI^^GS OF DE. WHATELY. 483 Eemarks on Shakespeare. By Joseph Whately. With new Preface 1839 Essays on some of the Dangers to Christian Faith . . . . 1839 Speech on Transportation . . . . ' . . . . 1840 The Kingdom of Christ Delineated . , . . . . 1841 Easy Lessons on Eeasoning ........ 1843 Essay on Self-Dcnial ' . 1845 Selected Tales of the Genii. By Mrs. Whately . . . .1845 Thoughts on the Evangelical Alliance 1846 Speech on Irish Poor Laws ........ 1847 Address on National Schools . Address on Beneficence , . . Preparation for Death : a Lecture ...... English Life, Social and Domestic, in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century. By Mrs. Whately 1847 Eeligious Worship 1847 Search after Infallibility • 1847 Instinct: a Lecture 1847 Four Additional Sermons . 1849 Proverbs and Precepts, for copy lines ...... 1850 The Light and the Life, or the History of Him whose Name we bear. By Mrs. Whately 1850 Chance and Choice, or the Education of Circumstances. By two of the Archbishop's daughters 1850 Letter on Eeligious Meetings 1850 Latter Day Saints 1851 Lectures on Scripture Eevclations respecting Good and Evil Angels 1851 Lectures on the Characters of Our Lord's Apostles . . . .1851 English Synonyms. By Miss Whately . . . . . 1851 Cautions for the Times. (Edited) . . . . . . .1851 Address to Board of Education 1853 Infant Baptism : with Additions ....... 1854 Introductory Lessons on Morals 1855 Bacon's Essays : wiih Annotations 1856 Scripture Doctrine concerning the Sacraments .... 1857 On the Bible arid Prayer Book. (Edited) 1858 I Introductory Lessons on Mind 1858 1 Introductory Lessons on the British Constitution .... 1859 ! First Preaching of the Gospel. By Mrs. Whately :1 Life of Christ. By Mrs. Whately I Paley: a Lecture 1859 ' Lectures on Scripture Parables 1859 Paley's Evidences : with Annotations 1859 jl Paley's Moral Philosophy : with Annotations S.'i') 484 LIST OF THE WRITINGS OF DR. WHATELY. The Parish Pastor 1860 Lectures on Prayer. By a Country Pastor ..... 1860 The Jews : a Lecture 1861 Historic Certainties. By Bishop Fitzgerald. Edited by the Arch- bishop 1861 MisceUaueous Lectures and Reviews . . . . . . 1861 Two Sermons 1862 Habits: a Lecture 1862 Election : an Essay 1862 Judgment of Conscience 1864 Dialogue on Repeal Miscellaneous Remains. Edited by Miss Whately . . . 1864 I INDEX. ALB A LEAN Hall, Dr. Whately np- | pointed Principal of, 37 ; list of the Principals of, for a few years from this time, 47, note ; improvements effected by him, 38 Alexander, Kev. Dr., his lines on the Death of Archbishop Whately, 372 American calculating boy, referred to, 5 Anecdote, Dr. "VVhately's powers of, 47 Anglesey. Marquis of, his friendship with Dr. AVhately, 72 Animal magnetism, letters from Dr. AVhately respecting, 233 Apophthegms, 394 Arnold, Dr., his intimacy with Whntely, 43, 45; his death, 218; Mr. Stanley's life of, 224 ; letters of Dr. "Whately as to Epitaphs, Biographies, etc., 221 Arnold, Mr., his reminiscences of a visit to Switzerland with Arch- bishop Whately, 328 Australia, views of Archbishop Whatel3'on transportation to, 150 BACON'S essays, with annotations, Dr. Wbately's edition of, 331 Badeley, Rev. J., Curate of Hales- worth. Dr. Whately's letters to, 51, 102 Bampton Lecturer, Dr. Whately ap- pointed, 30 Barry, Lady, 3 CON Bible, unbelief in the, 142 Birmingliam, mob at, in 1831, 68 Bishop, Rev. Henry, his death, 336 Bishops, appointment of, by the Ministry, 290 Blake, Mr., Roman Catholic Com- missioner for National Education, 130 Blakosware Park, Charles Lamb's notice of, 2 Borland, proposal for reclaiming it, 355 Bon mots, Whately's, 33 Botany, Dr. Whately's letter on, 309 Boultbee, Rev. R. N., his remi- niscences of WTiately, 2Q5 Burgess, Dr., Bishop of Salisbury, proposes that Dr. Whately should edit Chillingworth's ' Religion of Protestants,' 54 CATALLACTICS,' a name pro- posed by Dr. Whately for the Science of Political Economy, 53 Catholic clergy, Roman, remarks on a legal provision for the, 65 Catholic Emancipation, agitation respecting, in 1829, 53 Catholics, Roman, remarks on their religion, 341 ; conduct of the clergy in Ireland, during the famine of 1847-8, 249 ; their methods of proselytizing, 357 Conversation respecting Mavnooth, 299 48G IXDEX. CAU ' Cautions forthe Times,' publication of the, 286 Char;tcter. remarks on public life as a test of. 4:60 Cheap-bread system, remarks on the, 55 Children, Dr. "Whately's views re- spectiug the education of, 50 Cliristian history-, a knowledge of, ! essential in a course of liberal education. 161 Christianity, easy lessons on, hy Archbishop Whately. 158, notes ' Christianity, Evidences of the Truth of.' publication of the, ; re- marks on the, 145 ; translated into French bv Madame Fabre, 177 ' Church, Letters on the, by an Epis- copalian.' attributed to him, 45 ; letters to Dr. Hawkins on Church Reform. 97 ; and to Lord Grey, 98 ; letters on Church and State. 107 ; his views on Church matters, 105 : letters to and from Dr. Newman on these sulijects, 113, i 115: his letters to Dr. Hinds on | Church History, 190; distinct in- dependent Churches, 337 Clerical Societies, suggestions of Archlfishop Whately as to the formation of, 102 Coinage, suggestions for a universal, 266^ ' Common-place Book.' "Whatelv's, 13 Confirmation, Dr. "\Miately revives the rite of, in his diocese, 82 Copleston, Eev. Dr.. afterwards Bishop of Llandaff. his entrance at Oriel College in 1805, 10; his influence there, 11 ; his friendship with "VNliately, 12; appointed Bishop of Llandaff, 48; Dr. ^^Tiately's letter to him, 49 ; his ' Remains ' published by Arch- bishop "V\Tiately, 322 Cork Exhibition. Archbishop "\Miate- ly's in^uffural lecture at the, 283 Crabtree. Miss, 89 GLA DAUBEXY, Dr., Archbishop Whately's letters to. 309, 316 Death puuishmeut, views of Arch- bishop AVliately respecting. 103 Denman. Sir J., letter of Archbishop Whately to, on secondary punish- ments, 93 Dickinson, Dr. (afterwards Bishop of Meath), appointed domestic chaplain to Archbishop "Whately, 108 ; the Archbishop's estimate of his character. 109 ; becomes Bishop of 3Ieath. 200; his death. 218 Dickinson, Rev. Hercules, his notes of Archbishop Whately "s last days, quoted. 364,370; his recollections of Archbishop Whately, 430 Divinity College, scheme of Arch- bishop WTiately for the establish- ment of a, 112; failure of his scheme. 175 Drummoud, Mr., charges brought against him by Mr. Cahill, 271 EDUCATION, a moral. Archbishop Whatelv's views of the import- ance of, 133 Education, popular. Dr. "Whately's lecture on, 284 Education Committee in the House. on the. 465 '.Encyclopsedia Metropolitana.' TNTiatelj-'s contributions to, 34 ' Errors of Romanism,' essays on the. by Dr. '\Miately, 55 FABRE, Madame, her translation of the 'Evidences' into French. 178 Fitzgerald, Professor, his nomina- tion to the See of Cork, 324 GARDENING, Essay on Modern. Thomas Whately's, 2 ' Genii. Tales of the,' edited bv Mrs. Whately, 205 Gladstone, Mr., remarks on his style and conclusioDs, 203 INDEX. 487 GRE Greg, Mr., his ' Creed of Christen- dom,' 277 Grey, Earl, his letters to Archbishop Whately, offering him the See of Dublin, 57 Guizot, M., his account of the im- pression made upon him by Arch- bishop Whately, 187 Gurney, Miss Anna, Archbishop Wliately's acquaintance with, 260 HABITS, conversation on, 357 Halesworth, living of, presented to Dr. Whately, 36 ; state of the people there at his time, 37 Halsey, Mr., 3 Hampden controversy, views of Archbishop Whately on the, 150, 151 Hampden, Rev. Dr., Bishop of Nor- wich, Archbishop Whately's letter to, on his pamphlets, 199 Hawkins, Rev. Dr. (Provost of Oriel), his friendship with Whately, 43 ; his ' Christian's Manual,' 49 ; letter of Archbishop Whately to, on Dissenters and Oxford Uni- versity, 110 Hills, Mrs., of Cork, Archbishop Whately's acquaintance with, 260 Hinds. Rev. Dr. (Bishop of Norwich), his early friendship with Whately, 15 ; his reminiscences of the Arch- bishop's early life, 18 ; his ' Three Temples of the one true God,' 63 ; his sermons, 66 ; accompanies Dr. Whately to Dublin, 67 ; his re- miniscences of Archbishop Whate- ly, 85 ; resigns his domestic chaplaincy, and returns to Eng- land, 108 ; appointed to the living of Castleknock, 220 ; his domestic bereavement, 305 ' HistoricDoubts respecting Napoleon Buonaparte,' notice of, 34, note ; translated into French and Ger- man, 179 Homoeopathy, remarks on, 316 Howard Society, letter of the Arch- IRE bishop of Dublin to the, on death punishment, 103 IGNATIUS, Father, his interview with Archbishop Whately, 268 Ireland, state of, in 1831, 65; and of the Protestant Church there, 69; state of, in 1832, 69, 76 ; ravages of the cholera in 1832, 76 ; estab- lishment of the National Educa- tion System in, 78 ; antagonism of the Irish clergy to tlio Arch- bishop of Dublin's measures, 80 ; the Archbisliop's speech on the Irish Education question, 104; commission of inquiry into the condition of the poor in Ireland, 111 ; treating of the commission by the Government, 112 ; Irish affairs in 1836, 135 ; Archbishop Whate- ly's proposals for benefiting the country, 144 ; his epistolary string of proverbs on the state of, 147 ; his views respecting the Government Poor-Law for Ireland, 153 ; Eng- lish ideas of Irish wants, 154; prospects of Irish landowners, 230; the famine of 1847-8, 244, et seq. ; opposition of Archbishop Whately to out-of-door relief in Ireland, 250 ; passing of the Poor Relief Extension Act, 250 ; state of the country in 1851, 263, 276 ; Archbishop Whately's interest in Protestant missions to Ireland, 287 ; Puseyism in Ireland, 289 ; remarks on the abolition of the Lord Lieutenancy, 29 1 ; and of the Irish officers, 291; conversions to Protestantism in Ireland, 293 ; the Education Board, 297 ; with- drawal of Archbishop Whately from the National Education Board, 302 ; effects of conversion and emigration, 343 ; Archbishop Whately's hope of the residence of the Sovereign in Dublin, 344 ; Dr, de Ricci's opinion of Ireland, 362 ; remarks on the Protestant Church in, 363 INDEX. 488 IRI Irish language, Archbishop Whate- ly's conyersations with his clergy on the importance of studying the, 231 Italy, Archbishop Whately's impres- sions of, 172 ; the temples of, 173 JARDINE, Dr., Whately's criti- cisms on the ' Outlines of Philo- sophical Education ' of, 40 Jewish Emancipation Bill of 1853, Whately's remarks on the, 308 Jewel, Bishop, his view of the right and duty of putting down heresy b}' civil penalties, ol Justice, the highest virtue, 251 KEBLE, Mr., his intimacy with Whately, 43, 44 King, Archbishop, his ' Treatises on Predestination,' edited by Whate- ly, 34 LAHN, Valley of the, Archbishop Whately's description of the, 216 Lamb, Charles, his notice of Blakes- ware Park, 2 Leopold I., King of the Belgians, remark of Archbishop Whately to, 171 Lettersto— , 133, 180,219, 222, 233, 239; Arnold, Kev. Dr., 157; Arnold. Mrs., 224, 280, 261. 276, 278, 307, 315, 322, 353 ; Badeley, Eev. J., 51, 102 ; Clergyman, a. 137, 186, 252; Copleston, Her. Dr. (Bisliop of LlandafF), 49, 64, 65, 68, 136, 208. 211, 236; Crab- tree, Miss, 89, 177, 283, 347, 350; Daubeny, Dr., 309. 316 ; Denman, Sir J., 93; Dickinson, Eev, Dr., 170, 171, 185, 194 ; Duncan, Mr., 334 ; Duncan, IVIr. Philip, 39 ; Gurney, Miss, 307; Hampden, Rev. Dr., 199, 203, 219 ; Hawkins, Rev. Dr. (Provost of Oriel), 40, 66, 71, 87, 88, 97, 98, 101, 105, 106, 110, 118, 119, 130, 132, 134, 140, 162, 163, 169, 180, 193, 196, MUR 210, 213, 221, 225, 226, 235, 239; Hill, Mrs., 284. 311, 312, 323, 330, 332, 336 ; Hinds. Rev. Dr., 162, 183, 184, 190, 257, 282, 305, 351 ; Lady, a, 147 ; Newman, Rev. J. H., 112, 115; Osborne, Lady, 195, 230, 281 ; Powell, Baden, 165, 168 ; Russell, Lord John, 147 ; Senior, N. W., 39, 90, 131, 134, 152, 162, 173, 176, 185, 195, 201, 206, 213, 214, 218,237, 249, 301, 314, 318, 321, 324,326, 335, 337 ; Shepherd, Lady Mary, 63 ; Stanley, Rev. Dr. (Bishop of Norwich) ; Stanley, Rev. A. P. (now Dean of Westminster), 220; Tyler, Rev. J. E., Rector of St. Giles, 141, 142 ; Wilberforce, Rev. Dr. (Bishop of Oxford), 263 ; White, Rev. J. Blanco, 122, 125, 127, 145 Logic, Dr. AVhately's criticisms on Dr. Jardine's lectures on, 39 ; publication of his own work on, 42 ; condition of the study of, at Oxford at this time, 49 ; anecdote of his ' Logic,' 49 London University, letter from the Archbishop of Dublin to Dr. Arnold on the, 1 57 "ANKIND, question of, whether . all are of one species, 261 Mary, the Virgin, evidence in the New Testament against worship of, 21 Maurice, Professor, remarks on his writings, 315 Maynooth, conversation respecting, 299 Mayo, Dr., his recollections of Whately's early life, 46 Melbourne, Lord, his character as a statesman, 466 ' Morals, Lessons on,' published, 330 Moravians, their missions among the heathen, 339 Murray, Rev. Dr. (Roman Catholic Archbishop of Dublin), his sanc- tion of Whately's works, 302 IXDEX. 489 NEW NEWMAN, Dr., his iutimacy with Whately, 43 ; cause of their rupture, o3 Newtownbarry riots, 69 Nunneries, Archbishop "Whately's part in the reguktions and inspec- tion of, 319 OATHS, Archbishop Whately's petition to the Queen on the, administered by the Chancellor of the Order of St. Patrick, loo O'Connell, Mr., in 1838, 163 ; his 'Cursers,' 163; his letter to the English people exhorting them to turn Roman Catholics, 176 Oriel College in 1805, 10; and in 181o, 23, note Oxford, agitation in, in 1829, re- specting the Catholic question, 52; Puseyites at, in 1838, 163 PADDY'S Meditations in the Poor-house,' new edition of, 276 Palmer, Mr. W., remarks of Whately on his narrative, 229 Papal aggression, public excitement arising out of the, 263 ; corre- spondence with the Archbishop of Canterbury respecting the, 263 Parliament, remarks of Archbishop AVhately on his attendance in, 185 Parliamentary Peform, agitation respecting the Bill of, 1832, 69 Parsons, Mr. J., origin of his inti- macy with Mr. Whately, 6 Party, diseases of, 186 ; remarks on, 281 Peel, Mr. (afterwards Sir Eobert), his support of Catholic emancipa- tion, 51 ; agitation in Oxford in consequence, 51, 52 ; loses his re- election in 1829, 53 Persecution, Whately's remarks on the spirit of, in and out of our Church, 51 Philips, Mr., Whately at his school at Bristol, 6 Phrenology, remarks on, 331, 386 RED Plumer, W., Esq., 2 Pluraer, Miss Jane, married to Dr. Joseph Whately, 2 Political Economy, views of Dr. Whately on, 39 ; Dr. Whately ap- pointed Professor of, at Oxford, 53 ; his proposal to call it the science of ' Catallactics,' 53 ; his views as to the science, 53 ; the Professorship of Political Economy in Dublin University founded by him, 81 ; the first three professors, 82 Poor-laws in Ireland, views of Arch- bishop Whately as to, 153 Pope, Miss Elizabeth, her marriage to Mr. Whately, 35 ; her charac- ter, 36 Popular admiration, remarks on, 46-1: Popular clamour, on yielding to, 470 Popular education, Whately's lec- ture on, 284 Powell, Professor Baden, his mar- riage with the sisterof Archbishop Whately, 162 ; his 'Tradition Un- veiled,' 165 Priests, converted, ignorance of, 136, 137 Protestantism, conversions to, in Ireland, 285, 293 Proverbs, a string of, in the shape of a letter to a lady, 147 Public life as a test of character, 460 ; public men, 463 Publication of Archbishop Whately's ' Lessons on Money Matters,' 144 ; his 'Political Economy' translated into French at Li^ge, 179 Punishment, secondary, remarks of Dr. Whately on, 90, 91, 92, 93- 97 ; his paper on, in 1862, 355 Pusey, Dr., his interview with Arch- bishop Wliately at Brighton, 215 Puseyism in Ireland, 289 ; the gene- ral theory of Puseyism, 290 ; and at Oxford in 1838, 163 p EDESD ALE, Archbishop Whate- Xt ly's house at, 72 ; his employ- ments there, 73 490 INDEX. KEL Eeligion, letters to a clergyman on, 137 Keligious difficulties, his remarks on, 257 Eeligious endo\nnents, 362 Repartee, Whately's powers of. 47 Revival movement, "Whately's re- marks on the, 347 Ricci. Dr. de. his opinion of Ireland. 362 ' Romanism, Errors of,' publication of the, 54 QABBATAEIAN Question, Dr. O Whately's views respecting the, 62, 63 ; his letter to Mr. Senior on, 335 Saints, invocation of, remarks of Archbishop Whately on the, 141 Saints, communion of, 340 Sand, Cieorge. remarks on the works of, 252 • Scripture Extracts,' success of the. 158 • Search after Infallibilitv,' its pub- lication. 286 Self -reformation, hints on, 137 Sellon. ]\Iiss, her establishment, 281 Senior, Nassau William, commence- ment of his intimacy with Arch- bishop "Wliately, 15 ; his ' Lectures on Political Economy,' 38 ; his visit to the Archbishop in 1852, 289 ; extracts from his journal, 289 ; his ' Sorrento Journal,' 324 ; his visit to the Archbishop in 1858. 340; extracts from his journal, 340 ' Shakespeare, Remarks on some Characters in,' Thomas Whately's, 2 Sieveking, the Syndic of Hamburg, forms an acc[uaintance with the Archbishop, 171 Sismondi, M., forms a friendship with Archbishop Whately, 173; in Wales, 194 Sisterhoods at Plymouth and Devon- port, remarks on the, 281 TOC Slavery, Mrs, Hill's plan of an arti- cle on American slaA'ery, 284 ; Archbishop Whately's remarks on slavery, 306 ; extracts from a letter from Archbishop Whately on, 329 Social Inquiry Societ}- of Dublin, 253 Society for the Protection of the Rights of Conscience, 287 Spencer, Hon. and Rev. G., his in- terview with Ai'chbishop Whately, 268 Spiritualism, opinioris of Archbishop Whately respecting, 232 Stasre-coacli travelling, incidents of, 20, 21 Stanley, Hon. Mr. (now Earl of Derby), his part in the Irish National Education System, 78, note Stanley, Rev. A. P. (now Dean of Westminster), his 'Life of Arnold,' 219, 223, 224 Statistical Society of Dublin, founda- tion of. Dr. Whately's support of, 254 Sunday, remarks on the question of opening places of public recreation on, 335 Surgeons of Dublin, their ordinance, 361 Switzerland, Archbishop Whately's impressions of. 171, 172 TABLE anecdote. 32 ' Table Talk. ' Archbishop ^AT^iately':<. quoted, 460 Taylor, Mr. and Mrs. Henry, 216 Tests. Archbishop WTiately's speech in Parliament on the subject of, 308. 309 Thackeray, W. M., remarks on the ^vri^ings of, 301, 321 ; his remarks on 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' 318 Time, on the employment of, 474 Tithes, question of, in Ireland, in 1831, 69 Tocqueville, M. de, his remarks on the respective merits of the Roman Catholic and Protestant Churches. 324 INDEX. 491 TUA Tractarianism, remarks of Arch- bishop Whately on, 151 ; his ' Hints to Ti'anscendoutalists,' for working infidel designs through Tractarianism, 188 ; remarks on ' Tract, No. 90,' 213 ; Archbishop Whately's letter to Lady Osborne about the Tractites, 144 Trades Unions, their destruction of trade in Dublin, 360 Tradition, remarks of Archbishop Whately on, 16,), 183 Tragedy, JBurke on, 436 Transportation, views of Archbishop Whately on, 91, 93; Sir W. Molesworth'e Committee of In- quiry in 1837, loO Travelling, remarks of Archbishop Whately on, 173 'Treadmill,' tlie beggar's poem of the, 86 Tuition, Dr. Whately's powers of and tastes for, 27 Tunbridge Wells, partiality of Arch- bishop Whately for, 129 Tutors, first and second class men as, 224 ' Twaddlers,' Archbishop Whately's remarks on the, 180 UNCLE Tom's Cabin,' criticism of a review of, 327 VICTORIA, Queen, Archbishop Whately's petition to, on the administration of oaths by the Chancellor of the Order of St. Patrick, 155 ; his high opinion of Her Majesty's reading, 194 WALDENSES, sjnnpathy of Archbishop Whately with the, 339 Wale, C. B., Esq., his marriage with the third daughter of Archbishop Whately, 257 Wale, Mrs. George, her death, 349 WHA Wallstown riots, 69 Wellington, Dukft of, character of his administration, 467 West, Rev. Dr., becomes domestic chaplain to Archbishop Whately, 200 Whately Family, notices of the, 1, 2 — Rev. Dr. Joseph, father of the Archbishop, 1 ; liis wife and familv, 2, 3 — Richard, Archbishop of Dublin, his parentage and birth, 1-3 ; his early passion for mathematics and for casile building, 4, 5 ; his schooldivys, 6, 7 ; death of his father, 7 ; his meditative and thoughtful turn of mind, 8, 9 ; activity and fertility of his intel- lect, 9 ; enters Oriel College, 10; inthionce of Dr. Copleston, 11 ; liis constitutional tendency to in- dolence, 12; keeps a commonplace book, 13 ; takes his degree, 14 ; commencement of his intimacy with Nassau William Senior, 15 ; reminiscences of his early days, 15, 16; his familiarity with the writings of Aristotle, 17; ordained deacon and preaches his first sermon, 17 ; Bishop Hinds' recol- lections of him, 18; his dialogue in a stage coach with a Roman Catholic farmer, 21; -evenings with him in Oriel Common Room, 23 ; his principal college friends, 23 ; visits the Continent, and passes the winter in Portugal with his sister, 24 ; his tastes in the fine arts, 25 ; his return to college duties, 26 ; his faculty of tuition, 27 ; his power of dis- criminating and analysing cha- racter, 28 ; his energy and love of remedying abuses, 30 ; the Rev. R. N. Boultbee's reminis- cences of Whately, 31 ; commence- ment of his active literary career, 34 ; his theological essays, 34 ; his marriage with Miss Elizabeth Pope, 35 ; settles in Oxford and 492 INDEX. becomes Eampton Lecturer, 36 ; removes to Hcilesworth, 36 ; takes his degree as Doctor of Divinity, and appointed Principal of Alban Hall, 37 ; his improvements there, 38 ; his views on political economy, 39 ; his works on logic and rhe- toric, 42; his intimacy with Dr. Arnold, Mr. Keble, and Dr. New- man, 43-45 ; his conversational qualities, 47 ; his letter to Dr. Copleston, 49 ; his views as to the education of children, 50; his remarks on the spirit of persecu- tion in and out of the Church, 51 ; his rupture with Dr. Newman, 53 ; supports Sir Eobert Peel on the Catholic question, which leads to a breach with his early friends, 54 ; publishes the ' Errors of Eomanism,' 55; his letter respect- ing the national distress of 1830, 55 ; nominated Archbishop of Dublin, 58 ; reasons for his ele- vation, 59 ; change in his mode of life, 61 ; remarks of Dr. Copleston on his elevation, 61 ; his views on the Sabbatarian question, 62 ; his views of the state of Ireland, 65 ; starts for Dublin, 67 ; attacked by a mob at Birmingham, 68 ; arrival in Dublin, 71 ; his friend- ship with the Marquis of Anglesey, 72 ; his life at Eedesdale, 73 ; his general topics of conversation, 74 ; his fevourite amusements and books, 75 ; his first charge to his clergy, and consequent exposure to public obloquy, 77 ; hostility to the Archbishop and his measures, 81 ; founds the Professorship of Political Economy in the Univer- sity of Duldin, 81 ; his labours in his diocese, 82 ; his weekly levees, 83 ; his monthly dinners, 84 ; his controversial powers, 85 ; his discouragement of mendicancy, 87 ; his remarks on secondary punishments, 91-96 ; his remarks on Church Keform, 97-99; his friendship with Blanco White, WHA 100; his suggestions as to the formation of Clerical Societies, 102 ; his views respecting capital punishment, 103; takes his seat in Parliament for the first time, 104 ; his speeches on Irish Edu- cation and Jewish Emancipation, 104, 105 ; his views on Church and State, 107 ; loses Dr. Hinds as domestic chaplain, 108; his first acquaintance with Dr. Dickin- son, whom he appoints his chap- lain, 108 ; associated with Arch- bishop Murray in a Commission to inquire into the state of Ire- land, 111; his scheme of a Divinity College, 112; his correspondence with, Newman, 113-118.; his letters on Blanco White's seces- sion, 121; his correspondence with B. White, 122-128; visits Tun- bridge Wells, 129; his remarks on moral education, 133 ; his letter to a clergjTnan on religion, 137 ; takes an active part in Irish concerns, in the Session of 1837, 139 ; his remarks on the invoca- tion of saints, 141 ; and on un- belief in our sacred books, 142 ; publication of his ' Lessons on Money Matters' and the 'Evi- dences of the Truth of Christi- anity,' 144 ; his proposals for benefiting Ireland, 144 ; his generous concern for the welfare of Blanco White, 145 ; his letter, in the shape of a string of pro- verbs, to a lady on the state of Ireland, 147 ; commencement of his special efforts for the abolition of transportation, 150 ; his re- marks on Tractarianism, 151 ; his view of the Government Poor- Law for Ireland, 1 50 ; his remarks on English ideas of Irish wants, 154; his petition to the Queen on the administration of the oaths by the Chancellor of the Order of St. Patrick, 155 ; his opinions as to the newly founded London Uni- versity, 157; revisits Oxford, 162; IXDEX. 493 WIIA marriage of his wife's sister with Professor Baden Powell, 162 ; letter to Dr. Hawkins on Church membership, 163 ; letters to Baden Powell on his ' Tradition Un- veiled,' 165, 168; starts with his family on a Continental tour, 170; forms a friendship with the Syndic Sieveking, 171; his impressions of Switzerland and Italy, 172 ; makes an acquaintance with Sis- mondi, at Geneva, 173; failure of his scheme for a Divinity College, 174 ; returns to Dublin, 176 ; his letter on the fabrication concern- ing Dr. Arnold, 177 ; his letter to M. Fabre on Madame Fabre's translation of the Evidences, 178 ; his letters to Dr. Hinds on Tra- dition, 183 ; to a clergyman who solicited for a parish, 186; his introduction to M. Guizot, 187 ; his hints to Transcendentalists for working infidel designs through Tractarianisra, 188; his visit to Tenby in 1840, 190 ; his remarks to Dr. Hinds on Church govern- ment, 190; his remarks on ra- tional conviction, 193 ; renews his intercourse with M. de Sis- mondi, 194 ; his letter to Lady Osborne on her praying for him, 195 ; extract of a letter from, to the Bisliop of Norwich, on the Oxford Tracts, 203 ; his fondness for fairy tales, 204 ; accident to his wife. 211 ; his superintendence of various translations of his 'Evi- dences,'214; his interview with Dr. Pusey, at Brighton, 215; death of his friend, Blanco White, 215 ; visits Germany, 215; returns to England, 215 ; his notes of gossip from Germany, 216; deaths of his friends, Dr. Arnold and Bishop Dickinson, 218; liis re- marks on their characters, 220 ; visits Dr. Arnold's family at Fox How, 220 ; anecdote of him when there, 221 ; his remarks on the life of Blanco White, 222 ; letter WHA to Mrs. Arnold on the subject of her hiisliand's biography, 224 ; visits Fox How, 228 ; his notes on Mr. W. Palmer's narrative, 229 ; his letter to Lady Osborne, re- ferring to the Tractites, 230 ; his triennial visitations, 231 ; his con- versations with his clergy on the importance of speaking the Irish language, 231; his remarks on animal magnetism, 233 ; his tribute to Bishop Copleston, 236 ; his anecdote of the relieving officer at Stillorgan, 237 ; again visits the Continent, 238 ; his munificence in the Irish distress of 1847, 244 ; his objection to the practice of giving alms in the street, 246 ; his private charities, 247 ; his simple tastes and inex- pensive life, 247 : his measures for relieving the distress, 249 ; his opposition to out-door relief in Ireland, 250 ; his letter to Mrs. Arnold on Justice, 250 ; his letter to a clergyman respecting the works of George Sand, 252 ; his interest in the Statistical Society of Dublin, 254 ; marriage of his third daughter to Mr. C. B. Wale, 256 ; letter to Dr. Hinds on reli- gious difficulties, 257; illness of his son, 260 ; goes with his family to Cromer, 260 ; forms an ac- quaintance with Mif-s Anna Gurney, 260 ; and with Mrs. Hill of Cork, 260 ; his correspondence with the Bishop of Oxford as to the Papal aggression, 263 ; his suggestions for a universal coinage, 266 ; his interview with Father Ignatius, 268 ; his letter to Mrs. Arnold on the state of Ireland, 276 ; and on the creed of Chris- tendom, 273 ; his attendance in Parliament, 279 ; harassed by family anxieties, 279 ; his family circles, 280 ; his remarks on the sisterhoods at Plymouth and Devouport, 281 ; lectures at the Cork Exhibition, 284 ; urges Mrs. 494 IXDEX. Hill to continue her anti-slavery labours, 285 ; his interest in Pro- testant missions to Ireland, 285 ; his views on controversial dis- cussion, 287 ; his remarks on Thackeray's novels, 301 ; Trith- draws from the National Education Board, 302 ; his condolence with Dr. Hinds in a domestic bereave- ment, 305 ; urges Mrs. Hill to continue her anti-slavery labours, 306 ; his delight in his grand- children, 307'; his remarks on the Jewish Emancipation Bill, in 1 853, 307 ; his speech on Jewish eman- cipation, 308 : his letter about botany to Dr. Daubeny, 309 ; his sensitiveness, 311 ; his remarks on poor-house persecutions, 314 ; his remarks on ProfessorMaurice's book, 315 ; his opinion of homoeo- pathy, 316 ; his part in the regu- lation and inspeciion of nunneries, 319 ; his criticism on ]Mr. Senior's review of Thackeray's works, 321 ; publishes the remains of Bishop Copleston, 322 ; his re- marks on ]\Ir. Senior's Sorrento Journal, 324 ; his criticism of a Review of ' Uncle Tom's Cabin,' 327 : extract from a letter of his on slavery. 329 : pays a visit to London, 330 ; publishes the 'Les- sons on Morals," 330 : and 'Bacon's Essays, with Annotations,' 331 ; attacked by pjiralysis, 332 ; his adherence to homoeopathy, 333 ; his letter to Mr. Senior on the Sabbath question, 335 ; death of his brother-in-hiw, the Rev. Henry Bishop, 336 : presides in the Sta- tisticjd Department at the meeting of the British Association in 1857, 338 ; his interest in Dr. Living- stone's plans, 338 ; meets with an accident, 338 ; his great interest in missions, 339 ; publishes an edition of ' Paley's Moral Philo- sophy,' with annotations, 339 ; dangerous illness of his eldest grandchild, 340; his letter to WIL Miss Crabtree on the Revival movement, 347 ; death of his youngest daughter, 349 : and of Mrs. "\Miately, 349: his last visit to Tunbridge AVells, 350 : his family circle breaks up, 351 ; suffers from neuralgic gout, 354 ; attends the Session of the Statis- tical Society, 354 ; visited by Mr. Senior, 355 ; conversations with the latter, as recorded in Mr. Senior's journal, 355, 363 : his last change, 364 ; progress of his disease, 364 ; recollections of the Rev. Hercules Dickinson, 364, 367, 370 ; his last momenta and death, 372 ; lines on his death, 372 ; quotations from his ' Talile Talk,' 376 Whately, Rev. Dr. Joseph Thomp- son, 1 — Thomas, his political position in the last century. 2 ; letters of Huchinson and Oliver addressed to him, 2 ; his essay on Modern Gardening, and his characters in Shakespeare, 2 — "William, the painful preacher of Banbury, 1 — "William, his duel with Mr. John Temple, 2 — William, nephew of liie above. 3 — Mrs., grandmother of the Arch- bishop, 3 — Mrs., her tales of the genii. 205 ; meets with an accident, her death, 349 — Miss M. L., her ' Ragged Life in Egypt,' 365 "\Miite, Rev. J. Blanco, 100: his resi- dence with Archbishop Whatcly, 100 ; embraces Socinian views, and retires to Liverpool, 119 ; letters to him on his secession from the Church, 123, 125; the Archbishop's generous concern for his welfare, 145; his death, 215 Willis, Sherlock, his reminiscences of Whately's early days, 15; ac- INDEX. 495 WIT companies Dr. Whately to Dublin, 67 ; his accident at Holyhead, 67 Wit, Dr. Whately's, 47 Workhouses, persecutions of Pro- testant converts in, 314 ZEA ALAND, New, proposed plan of the colonization of, 152 ; trans- lations of Archbishop Whately's works into Maori, 316 7E LONDON : PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODB AND CO., NEW-STRETTT SQUAHS AND PAULIAMENT STEEET