BOOKS.

ARCHBISHOP WHATELY.*

THERE are some kinds of minds,—and Archbishop Whately's was certainly one of them,—which so far resemble crystallized substances that the minuter fragments split off from them seem to give us, almost better than more extended specimens, the grain, and form, and essential features of the original. The rereion is not very recondite. Minds of this class are not remarkable for grasping a comprehensive whole, but for applying vigorously a characteristic method to the various subjects with which they deal. Consequently when exhibited in large, the effect is weari- some, like that of a diamond pattern spread all over the drapery, papering, and carpeting of a house. Archbishop Whately's mind was thus reiterative in method. The shrewdness of his observa- tions was considerable ; the multiplicity and the acuteness of his comparison between things either really or only superficially like was more than great,—it was very remarkable. But though the subject-matter of his observations is constantly changed. the method is always the same, and somewhat monotonous, the more so that one seldom seems to get into a deeper or wider region than is suggested by the particular objects, or thoughts, or experiences, which he puts together for us under his olject-glass to compare and distinguish. Hence little bits of Dr. Whately's writings give us almost a better idea of him than continuous compositions. The continuous compositions are mosaics, not sub- dued and coloured to any great design, but, like boxes in Tunbridge ware, put together for a useful purpose, and inlaid with skill and effect, but yet so as to suggest at once that the method chosen is not particularly adapted to one subject rather than another, and might either be spread out or drawn in at will, according to the extent of surface to be covered. Dr. Whately never impresses us with the comprehensiveness of his thought, and consequently we admire his remarks very much more than his treatises; for though acute remarks greatly enliven a treatise, they cannot constitute one. Thus the two books of scraps which stand second and third on our list seem to us to give far more characteristic insights into the Archbishop than any of his longer works. The scraps are full of his shrewd and close power of comparison, and many of the new selections from his common-place book are amongst the best of his fragments. They show that keen feeling . for verbal definition and distinction which made him great in synonyms and almost weakly attached to the ignoble art of punning. They show also that .strong but narrow practical judgment which, in a narrow field, and where the points to be decided were definite and easily distinguishable, was almost unerring, but which was even below the average where the issue raised was one of feeling, complexion, and, so to say, moral at- mosphere, rather than of defined and distinctly comparable features.

But while the apophthegms selected from the Archbishop's writings and manuscripts are a very interesting and valuable contribution both to modern thought in general and to the study of the Archbishop's character, we cannot say the same of Mr. Fitz- patrick's life. It appears to be written from genuine convic- tion, and to have excluded carefully that flattery in the form of hero-worship which has become rather too common in modern biography, but this is its only merit. It does not give, and scarcely attempts to give, any estimate of the Archbishop. It is far moo fragmentary and disjointed than the writings of its theme ; it ix written without any sign of either art or reflectiveness ; its

* 1. Memoirs of Richard Whately, Archbishop of Dublin, with a Glance at his Co- temporal ks and Ti. es. By William John Fitzpatrick, J.P. Two volumes. London: Richard Bentley. 1834.

5. Miscellaneous Remains ft .rm the Conunomplace Book of Richard iVhateljj, D.D., .drchbishnp of Dublin, with a COneCtiOn of Notes and Essays made during the Prepares., tion of his Various Works. Edited by Miss Si. J. Whately. London: Longman. l864.

3. Sekcfons from the Writings of Dr. Whale)", Archbishop of Dublin. With his Grace's permission. London : Bentley. 180.

English is had ; its manner is flippant ; it has a pretentious air of originality in conjunction with the utmost poverty of both thought and feeling ; there is a vulgar sort of sprightliness or smartness about the style ; and there is no trace of judgment about either the arrangement or the selection of the materials. Mr. Fitzpatrick appears to have kept but one object steadily before him,—to crowd as many after-dinner anecdotes into his book, whether they related to the subject of the memoir or not, as he could find the shsdow of an excuse for,—and very often there is no further excuse than the lamest of all excuses—" this reminds me," a statement which no one can dispute, since the laws of association are often so capricious, but which at least shows that the con- necting link between Mr. Fitzpati ick's ideas is neither resemblance, nor difference, nor any other intelligible principle. Mr. Fitz- patrick neither succeeds in painting a portrait nor in giving even well-arranged materials to the reader from which he may con- struct his own. His book has no method, either intellectual or mechanical. Its order is only partially chronological, and it has no table of contents and no index. It has not been thought out at all, it is vulgarly written, and put together with a slovenly and hasty hand.

We do not know at all on what grounds Mr. Fitzpatrick, with no apparent qualifications for this task, was chosen to exe- cute it. Archbishop Whately certainly deserved a thoughtful, modest, and a sensible biographer, and it is but too easy to show that he has got one -who is pretentious, and, if not foolish, at least very incapable, and exceedingly deficient in all the re- finements of intellectual insight. Here, for instance, is a very moderate specimen of the frothy and pretentious style of the book :-

- "It may with truth be said that never was man more intensely un- popular. Like Actzeon, who was devoured by his own dogs, the unedi- fying spectacle of a shepherd not eaten up—but run down by his own flock, was illustrated in the person of Archbishop Whately. A confla- gration of fury raged around him ; but unlike Sardanapalus, who, when deserted by friends and besieged by foes, burnt himself in his own palace, the Archprelate, with at least the semblance of indifference, fiddled away, like Nero, while the city was aflame around him."

Acteson, Sardanapalus, and Nero all in a breath Which of the sheep said to have "run down" the Archbishop, has run him down with such terrible effect as this biographical sheep? As a

specimen of English, take the following :—" Impressed by these considerations, a strong impression pervaded parsondom generally that," &c. (p. 76). Heavy and pointless facetiousness :—" Solemn noodles, who could not understand a joke, confidentially whis- pered to each other that Whately was a clever fool. He would seem to have had this cavil in his eye, or in his nose, or perhaps

in both, when he Weak men having been warned that wisdom and wit are not the same thing, and that ridicule is not the test of truth, distrust everything that can possibly be re- garded as witty ; not having judgment to perceive the combina- tion, when it occurs, of wit with sound reasoning. The ivy- wreath conceals from their view the point of the Thyrsus. Ho that can laugh at what is ludicrous, and at the same time pre- serve a clear discernment of sound and unsound reasoning, is no ordinary man.'" What the drift may be of this object- less allusion to the Archbishop's nose we cannot conceive. An equally senseless juke in the form of a pun occurs in an apparently depreciating notice of Dr. Arnold, who, so far from being Whately's echo, had far deeper general insight, both

into politics and into history, than the Archbishop :—" Arnold adopted Whately's views on this subject, and in a long letter to his sister, Lady Cavan, echoed them with that melodious echo so peculiarly his own. But an echo, although a sound, is not a sound voice." Mr. Fitzpatrick's liveliness :—" We fear it must be confessed that, whether from want of taste or other causes, the nods which greeted many of Dr. Whately's profoundly specula-

tive sermons in Dublin were of a somniferous rather than of a generally acquiescent character." Another specimen :—" Mr. Nolan flourished the following letter in the face of both prelates,

and declared that in spite of their teeth—and the old Primate had very few—he would preach where he liked." Mr. Fitzpatrick's metaphor :—" By the presence of his powerful muscle and sinew he contributed largely to strangle the serpent of discord, and to

obliterate the slimy cycles of its progress." These extracts are sufficient, we think, and more than sufficient, to prove the calibre of the book, or we could extend them almost indefinitely. There are many anecdotes of the Archbishop huddled together into it which are striking and characteristic,—but the book, as a whole, is one of the worst of its kind it has ever been our lot to read. - The life of the Archbishop still remains to be written, but enough can be gathered even from this slovenly and incompetent

book to give to any one who is familiar with his general writings, and especially with the admirable selections in the volumes we have associated with the biography, a very clear image of the Archbishop's mind. His was an aggressive understanding of strong but contracted vigour, which was liberal so far as it was liberal, from a keen appreciation of the false assumptions involved in average conservatism, and conservative, so far as it was conserv- ative, from an equally keen appreciation of the false assumptions involved in the prevalent types of liberalism. Thus he assaulted vigorously at. Oxford the educational prejudices of the place, and almost forced the study of a rather popular and superficial logic upon the University ; and again in Ireland he assaulted with equal vigour both the Protestant and the Roman Catholic pre- judices, and carried for a time, by the mere force of his purpose, a popular and rather superficial system of common religious edu- cation. But the characteristics of his mind are equally shown in the war he was always eager to wage against the critical ob- jections to the so-called " improbabilities " in Scripture by showing the still greater improbabilities in history known to be true,—that of Napoleon Buonaparte,—and in a very acute attempt he began, but never completed, to show that in the most probable-sounding of fictions, "Robinson Crusoe," there were unconsciously introduced impossibilities which, if closely analyzed, would prove it to be fiction. This fragment on "Robinson Crusoe" is one of the most characteristic and acute of his shorter works. He points, for example, to the fact that Robinson Crusoe threw out grains of pre- pared rice and found them grow outside his hut, whereas the process by which rice is prepared deprives it of the power of germinating. This was the sort of close analysis in which Whately delighted. He habitually laid too much stress on the thorough exposition and illustration of some very narrow line of argument. His practical wisdom was acute, and always graphic, but on rather a small scale. He would note thus, for instance, the rashness that takes the form of caution, as well as that which takes the form of rashness. "A moth," he says, "rushes into a flame, and a horse stands still in a stable on fire, and both are burnt. Some men are prone to moth-rashness, and some to horse-rashness, and some to both." That is clever and ingenious, but it fails to notice that though both these lines of conduct lead to the same result, they ought not really to be called by the same name, any more than cowardice and hardihood, which will often alike lead to destruction, but which spring from quite differ- ent roots. There is generally some such criticism to be made on Whately's acute sayings. Dig a little deeper and their sagacity seems less remarkable. It is his power of clinching by a clever Illustration or metaphor, which makes many of his sayings more remarkable than they really are. One of his very best was one on which he was singularly unable to act himself. He used to say that a judicious practical system (for example, of education or of a political nature) should be made like a judiciously made garment, "with tucks," so as to be capable of letting out as the institution grew. That was precisely the case with the common education system in Ireland. The Archbishop was wise enough to put in the tucks, but when it came to be absolutely necessary to let a tuck out, he resisted so fiercely as to necessitate what he insisted on calling his own "dismissal."

His temper, as well as his intellect, was somewhat aggressive. He always had something of the pleasure in knocking emptiness, —or what he thought emptiness,—down, which a truculent school- boy feels towards everything, whether empty or not. What could be ruder than his conduct in the following case :—

" Addressing a talented Professor one day, he said, quite abruptly, 'Mr. —t you are one of the first men of the age.'—' Really, your 'Grace,' replied the flattered Professor, bowing lowly, `you are too kind, too complimentary. You over-estimate the value of my services and of my little publications, which owe their chief merit to the liberal use that I make in them of your Grace's eminent works.'—' I assort, Sir, as .a fact, that you are,' replied the Archbishop, 'one of the first men of the age; but while the elated gentleman was bowing his thanks, the heartless primatial punster added, `I understand you were born January, 1801,' and, turning his back, walked off, unmindful of the height to which he first raised, and from which he than so unceremo- siously hurled the Professor."

Nor was this the way to win his contumacious clergy :— " 'Pray, Sir,' he said to a loquacious prebendary who had made himself active in talking at the Archbishop's expense when his back was turned,—' pray, Sir, why are you like the bell of your own church-steeple?'—' Because,' replied the other, am always ready to sound the alarm when the Church is in danger!'— 'By no means,' replied the Archbishop; it is because you have an empty head and a long tongue.'" Nor was this likely to make his drawing-room pleasant for ladies :—" Addressing a blue-stocking who had produced quite as many babes as books, he said, Pray, Mrs. A—, what is the difference between you and me P'—Yon puzzle me,' she replied; what is it ?'—' I can't conceive,' re- sponded the Archbishop."

And yet in spite of these almost schoolboyish knock-down instincts, there is evidence of the deepest tenderness and com- passionateness beneath this pugnacious surface. He never seems to have refused any claim upon him, that was, a real claim ; he gave away much more than 50,000/. in charity during the thirty years of his archbishopric. During his wife's last hours in 1860 the old man was found sitting on the stairs in an agony of grief and a passion of tears. In his earlier days he apparently believed that it was the upward pressure of inward unhappiness which gave him so quick a sense of the ludicrous, and made him grasp, as it were, at the excitement of intellectual sparring. But the Archbishop was, on the whole, a very happy man, and such fun as he enjoyed at all, he enjoyed almost to the end. We doubt whether he had a very deep sense of humour. His thoughts played too much on the surface of verbal antitheses,--his intellect was too little penetrated by sentiment, to admit of it. His intellect, strong and aggressive as it was, was rather an out- work of his character than its natural medium of expression,— a state of things quite inconsistent with real humour. And it was this external character of his understanding which he felt when he said on his deathbed to friends who congratulated him that even in death he kept his intellect vigorous,—and be had always been vain of his intellectual power,—" Talk to me no more about intellect, there is nothing for me now but Christ."