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From the Spectator.

ARCHBISHOP WHATELY.*

THOSE Who knew the late Archbishop of Dublin only by his published works, will gain a very much higher impression of him in every way than they were likely in that manner to have formed, by this admirable selection from his correspondence and this simple narrative of his laborious life. There is a letter in which Dr. Whately mentions contemptuously some silly review of Dr. Arnold's life in which the reviewer compared Dr. Arnold to Dr. Johnson, calling him a mixture of Hume and Johnson, as if

Hume and Johnson could have been mixed without effervescing like a saline draught. There was, however, in Dr. Whately's own nature something of the mingled ruggedness and tenderness so characteristic of Johnson, not a little of that powerful and vivid grasp of the logic of a limited subject which enabled both of them to clinch an argument with a knock-down illustration no less remarkable for wit than force, and all that tenacity of personal prepossession which made both alike impatient of an uncongenial intellectual presence, and gave them the impulse to rid themselves of the buzz of irritating thoughts by the rude flap of a masculine understanding. It is true, indeed, as Dr. Whately remarks in the passage we have alluded to, that Dr. Johnson was a vehement Tory, and that in conversation he too often talked as if discussion was a game of chess, in which victory, and not truth, was the object to be sought for. But Johnson's Toryism, though it made him as much the opponent as Whately was the champion of Liberal ideas, was scarcely less strongly characterized by manly candour than Whately's own opposite prepossessions in favour of Liberal views. Again and again Dr. Johnson would admit that he had silenced an opponent unfairly by epigram, not argument; and at. bottom there is evident enough in Johnson's mind a very profound belief in truth and passionate desire to reach it, which Dr. Whately ignores in him, only because the early training of Johnson's mind had furnished his intellect with a host of false premises and prejudices which effectually embarrassed and obstructed him in the search. If Johnson had been without his intense veneration for the past, his passionately loyal spirit towards established powers, and could be conceived

Life and Correspondence of Richard Whately, D.D., late Archbishop of Dublin. By E. J. Whately.

2 vols. London: Longmans.

beginning life, like Whately, from the Aristotle-Paley principles of philosophy and religion, we should imagine him running much ally those who differed from him, supporting the same career; brow-beating unintentionby strong, tightly linked arguments, conclusions dear to his heart for reasons very different from those which took hold of his understanding, making much of his own circle of friends, pounding away resolutely at his intellectual enemies, eager for intellectual sympathy and despising himself for the range of his own special interests, domiwanting it, quite unable to give it beyond wards anything like mysticism or intellectual neering and yet tender, contemptuous to- . vagueness, indomitable in purpose when and curiously combining a love of physical once he had set his shoulder to any wheel, marvel and liking for materialistic wonders with a strong impatience of sentimental credulity. No doubt Dr. Whately was a statesman of some ability, which Dr. Johncould never have become. But there is son, with his bundle of early prejudices, really much of striking resemblance in those strong positive intellects, the rough wit, the the warm personal affections, the insuper"bottom of good sense," the terse thought, able reserve, the eager humanity, the intense concentrativeness, the mixed credulity and shrewdness of the two men; and if Whately were far more of a statesman and a general reasoner, Johnson, of course, was far the sonal character on occasional observations greater in the power of stamping his perand remarks. Yet what did Johnson ever say much better than Whately's criticism, as usual, one-sided enough, on the demand made for gratitude towards Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of Wellington for granting Catholic Emancipation and Free Trade, after resisting them to the very last practicable could suppose them [the Irish]," said Whatemoment as measures of necessity?" Who ly, "such fools as to be grateful to those who granted what they lacked power to refuse, and who never even attempted to make that it was by force and against their will? a virtue of necessity, but always proclaimed 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." Or take this, of the Radical's destructive attitude towards the Irish Protestant Church, and the worldly attitude of purely political Protestants towards it. "As for

these last, I regard them and the Radicals as only two different kinds of enemies to the Protestant Church; they are like the Asiatic

and African hunters of the elephant; the latter wish to kill the animal for the ivory and as much flesh as they can carry off, leaving the rest of his carcase as a scramble for hyenas and vultures; the others wish to catch and keep him for a drudge." It is in these kinds of clinching illustrations, at once argument and wit, that Whately's great concentrativeness of intelligence and vividness of logic seem at once most. brilliant and most Johnsonian. But there is something in the rough and almost dumb tenderness of the Archbishop, in the careworn, deeply furrowed face, in the piety of his instincts, so far beyond what seems warranted by the rigid and narrow boundaries of his precisely outlined thought, that we feel a resemblance of even a deeper kind. Yet, of course, the men were different enough, being indeed in external circumstances, profession, creed, and education, as wide as possible asunder. It seems to us very unfortunate for the Archbishop's reputation that his profession and his writings have brought him before the world in great measure as a theologian. There never was a man less fitted for the study of theology proper; indeed all his most successful writings on theology were ingenious devices to resist and evade the claims of theology proper. He has been charged, as everybody knows, with being a Sabellian, that is, with believing that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are only three aspects of the same personal Essence; and to this, of course, his note in the Logic on the word persona, pointing out that it and the Greek word from which it is translated had nothing of the meaning which we now assign to the word "person," directly tends. But we believe that he was quite honest, indeed, he was never even in the least degree dishonest, in repudiating this interpretation, and maintaining, on the contrary, that he wished not to explain, but to avoid explaining, or even speculating upon, the inner nature of God, and the mode in which the three distinct manifestations of Him in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are to be reconciled and united in one. Thus he says in a letter to a friend :

"1st. There are, properly speaking, two distinct doctrines, each called the doctrine of the Trinity, and thence often confused together: the one speculative, concerning the distinctions in the Divine essence; the other practical, concerning the manifestations of God to man. They are as different as a certain opinion respecting the sun, from an opinion respecting the sunshine. A peasant has need to know the effects of sunshine in ripening corn, &c., &c., which he may do without forming any notion of the mag

nitude of distance of the sun, or of the theories of Ptolemy and Copernicus. The former is what I understand to have in view; and I agree that, as it relates to a matter confessedly incomprehensible, it is better not to be dwelt on, the secret things that belong unto the Lord

lest we be bewildered and misled; it is one of our God.' The other is what I have had all along in view, and which I hold to be among the things that belong to us, that we may do,' &c. Unfortunately, by being confounded with the other, it is in general swept away from people's thoughts, as a speculative mystery better kept in the background; whereas it is the corinto which we are baptized) and of Christian ner-stone of the Christian faith (the doctrine to us, we are bound to act and feel suitably to practice; since, if God stands in three relations the three relations in which we stand to Him." That is as distinct and as bold an attempt to clear the Church of England of anything like a theology as we have ever seen, and it was of the essence of Whately's mind to object to a theology and keep before himself only the "regulative" Christianity, as Mr. Mansel has since called it, which should have an immediate practical bearing on human conduct. How he reconciled this mode of thought with the Nicene and Athanasian Creeds, which are purely theological declarations of the secrets of the Divine Essence, or even with a great portion of the theology of St. John, which seems to us of precisely the same nature, we are never told. But that he honestly believed it to be the duty of a good Protestant to decline entering in any degree on the divine ontology, and to believe only as much as clear human logic could prove, without, however, disputing or disbelieving the assertions made about the deeper things of God, but rather leaving them to be decided, if at all, in a higher state of existence, is obvious enough. The bias of Dr. Whately's mind towards close and accurate observation in natural phenomena he extended to the region of faith, noting carefully enough the various manifested characteristics of the divine will and government, but declining to feel any great interest in the secret of their hidden unity and origin. Hence the tendency of his religious writings to construct a scaffolding for the Christian faith, rather than to work at the actual structure at all. His mind occupied itself with the evidences, and his heart took the leap to actual trust silently and without giving much sign of that most important step in the process.

And this tendency of Dr. Whately's to be satisfied as a theologian with preparing the understanding for conviction, was no doubt increased and rendered more remarkable by

his great deficiency in intellectual and mor- ant meaning not embodied in, but suggested al sympathy with minds widely removed by, the Archbishop's words. Worse still from his own. There never was a mind than this involuntary but violent injustice less able to enter into the heart of a convic- to his friend's memory was his treatment of tion which he did not share. It was this the Memoir of Mr. Blanco White when it want which made him often appear hard actually appeared, and of its editor, Mr. and cold, and made him sometimes positively Thom. A finer piece of intellectual biogracruel and unjust. His prejudice was not phy has not been published in the last fifty usually the prejudgment of an unfair mind, years, than this painful story of a spiritual but the incapacity of a stiff and fixed char- mind losing its faith in revelation and yet acter to enter into a very different moral eagerly sighing after it when lost. The attitude than any to which he was accus- Archbishop, however, charged the editor tomed. This it was which made him guilty, with indelicate revelations of the private in at least one instance, of a very discredit- feelings of an unhealthy mind made for the able loss of temper and equity, which many sake of gain, and with gross misrepresentawould falsely attribute to dishonesty. When tions of his own conduct to Blanco White, his chaplain, Mr. Blanco White, became a and evidently believed his own absurd inUnitarian, and fell into that suffering state dictment. This gauges the immense force of mind into which a man of his sensitive of prejudice, - here strictly prejudice in temperament could not but fall when old the true sense of prejudgment, which he ties of the tenderest nature were necessarily brought to the reading of a book absolutely relaxed, if not broken, the Archbishop be- and wholly free from all trace of the bad haved with his usual generosity of both mind qualities imputed to it. Miss Whately has and purse to him, but pummelled away at acted either very courageously or blindly in the sensitive invalid on the subject of his publishing the only letters discreditable to misunderstandings of the true relation be- her father in these volumes. They are distween them, in letters the merciless logic creditable not because he was guilty of any and terrible robustness of which are quite dishonesty, but because they show him capainful to read in such a connection. There pable of such blind and insensate prejudice as was no want of real tenderness for his friend; is implied in inability to understand how the sympathy with his distress of mind of Mr. Blanco White could cease to agree which he speaks was genuine enough; but with him, and could repeatedly misunderthis sympathy did not tell upon his style or stand his letters, without being insane, and manner of writing any more than his gen- how any other intellectual man could write uine piety told upon his religious discourses; his life and publish his diaries without dethe man stayed at the bottom, the logician tecting that insanity, and having determined came to the surface. That the Archbishop to trade on it for the sake of gain. In a was deeply mortified at Mr. Blanco White's future edition we should advise Miss Whatedefection, that he could not understand it, ly to apologize for the two letters on the that he believed he could argue him out of life of Blanco White. They are indeed it, and longed to make the attempt, is obvi- characteristic enough of her father's mind, ous. But after Mr. White's death his but characteristic of an injustice in it that annoyance took a most unjustifiable and she cannot well wish to have perpetuated, culpable shape. He had found Mr. White nervous, and to a certain extent, no doubt, morbid in mind, and he coolly assumed that his change of belief was contemporaneous with a loss of sanity. He had got, he says, medical opinions to sustain him, but an Archbishop of his force of character would easily get ten per cent. in any profession to echo any strong judgment of his own. The simple fact, as any one can see who reads Mr. Blanco White's life, and notes the grounds on which the Archbishop evidently formed his presumption against his friend's sanity, is that Mr. White was intellectually perfectly sane and even lucid, but that the Archbishop startled and jarred upon his shaken nerves, and made it difficult for him to appreciate the exact amount of unpleas

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sculptured, as it were, for all succeeding generations. Her implied approval is the only blot on her admirable book.

Though Dr. Whately was, as a ruler of the Church, deficient in any true love or care for theology, he had a great deal of the power of a statesman. The system of united education which he so nearly succeeded in forcing upon Ireland was a thoroughly statesman-like experiment, and, but for the rise of the Ultramontane party and the Cullen faction, might have had all the suscess it deserved. We have always maintained, indeed, that as soon as the great majority of the Catholics of Ireland rejected it, there was no choice for any true Liberals but to admit their right to a separate education, as we have admitted the right of

Dissenters to a separate education in England. But though the late Government was not only right about the Catholic University, but were acting in the only way possible for Liberals after the success of the Ultramontane reaction, we do not the less recognize the great value of the attempt made by the Archbishop, or the less regret that it is evidently doomed to fail. Moreover, the astonishing pertinacity and resolution with which he stuck to the attempt, when once it was made, was quite heroic. He had to defend it without avowing his belief that it must ultimately lead to the Protestantization of Ireland, or, as he said himself, to defend it with one hand, and that his best, tied behind him, but defend it he did with unparalleled vigour to the last. As a thec retic statesman, too, he was a man of no small acuteness. The following suggestion, for instance, of a remedy for the too great rigidity of a constitution like that of the United States is very shrewd and statesman-like:

statutes, have no power except to call in the Visitor, who has power, when thus appealed to, to alter the statutes, and having done so retires, and leaves the ordinary government in the same hands as before. It is on this plan I should community, civil or religious, a constitution of proceed if I were employed to frame for any government. The principle is equally applica ble to all forms, whether monarchical, aristocratical, popular, or in any way mixed. Provision should be made for calling in what might be called a visitational power on extraordinary emergencies. The constitution originally laid down should bind the ordinary government, which should administer, under these limitations, the affairs of the community. It should rules of the constitution, but should be authorhave no power to alter any of the fundamental ized, whenever its members thought fit, to summon the extraordinary assembly (or whatever it might be called), for which provision should have been made. And this assembly should have no power except to deliberate and decide on the points proposed to it by the ordinary legislature; it should not supersede or interfere with their authority, and should be dissolved at any time, even re infectâ at their pleasure. In watch. It is, I think, thus, and thus only, that short, it should be precisely the regulator of a we can avoid the two opposite evils-of too strict a confinement to the decisions of our ancestors, when, even if originally the best, they may have ceased to be suitable; and of rash and ruinous changes of constitution — an evil which is very apt to succeed the other."

"Some newly formed States have dreaded to entrust to any man or body this unlimited power, and have in the original scheme of the Constitution fixed certain fundamental points as out of the control of the Legislature. This is the case with the United States of America. The Government is limited by the original Constitution, and if the Congress should pass any Act encroaching on that, no citizen would On the whole, the impression of the Archbe bound to obey such a law. The disadvantage of this is, that it places the present gener- bishop left upon us by these volumes is of a ation under the control of their ancestors, and very strong and noble character of rather provides no legal method for their throwing it coarse grain. A man of vast generosity, off, even should they unanimously wish to do great love of approbation, and greater con80.* Should a great majority of the citizens of scientiousness, who never intentionally did the United States agree with the Legislature in an unjust thing, and who laboured without wishing for such a change, we may be sure they ceasing in the cause he thought to be good, would effect it, though they would not do so incapable of insincerity, rough and abrupt regularly. The problem is to devise a mode of almost to a point at which episcopal stateliescaping both disadvantages; and this can only be effected by providing for the calling in, from ness became impossible, yet dignified from time to time, some new power, distinct from the the great purity of his own conceptions of ordinary Legislature, and authorized to intro- duty and the immobility of his will when duce changes from which the other is restricted. once he had made up his mind, a man with The Roman decemvirs and dictators were some a most tender heart, with something of the thing approaching to such a provision, but the pathos of dumb affection about him, so deepchief error of those contrivances was the allow-ly was it hidden in involuntary but deep ing these provisional governments to supersede the ordinary and to engross the whole power of the State. Hence they led to tyrannical usurpation. They should have had no other power than that which was peculiar to them. The best contrivance of the kind is, I think, the constitution of some colle, es in respect of their visitors. The Master and Fellows, &c., govern and make bye-laws under certain restrictions; but, with respect to alterations of fundamental

Both the Archbishop and the Spectator seems to forget the constitutional provisions for alteration.

reserve, with great intensity of feeling concentrated within very narrow limits, deficient in sympathy to know when he was giving needless pain, of a sledge-hammer understanding with which he thumped away mercilessly at all that seemed to him false, of a utilitarian cast of mind, yet of a much higher than utilitarian school of ethics, he seems to us a kind of mitred Hercules, who, above all, gave reality of mind to a Church the highest thoughts of which he was perhaps intellectually incapable of appreciating.

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From the Spectator.

NAPOLEON AT LYONS.

Ir a proof were wanting that Cæsarism is unsuited to modern Europe, it would be found in the fact that Napoleon is not a completely successful Cæsar. The man understands his age and his position as no one born in the purple ever did or will. While his flatterers tell him that he is the beloved of the nation, and his enemies taunt him with relying solely on the Army, the Emperor of the French gravely surveys his position, decides that his raison d'être is his care for the masses of the people, and with a calm, grave forethought, which, but for the selfishness intermixed with it, would be serene wisdom, shows himself their protector and earthly Providence. Aware that the power in France of to-day rests with the majority, with the "people" in the French sense of that misused word, he has throughout his reign cultivated them with a care which is to us, who hate Cæsarism, we confess almost marvellous. It is so utterly unlike the care a demagogue would profess. In this very month the Emperor has been attacked by a new danger. The workmen of Lyons are suffering up to the point at which in England masters would be shot and the Poor Law Board called upon for extra-legal exertions, at which soldiers would be kept in readiness throughout the district and Parliament would resound with speeches more or less effectual. The Lyonnese workers in silk, say 90,000 men fit to bear arms, are starving, without a poor law to fall back upon. According to Imperialist scribes, the cause is a change in the fashions such as ruined Coventry; according to Orleanist scribes, it is the want of a free electoral system; according to Le Monde, it is the existence of infidel publications, or the coming departure of the French troops from Rome. The cause matters little, for it is acknowledged that Lyons is starving, and Lyons starving is as formidable as Paris discontented. Partly from the intimate unity which has grown up in the city, partly from a very exceptional geographical position-labour, as it were, holding the castle, while respectability lives in the moat - and partly from the Zouave courage peculiar in France to the citizens of great towns, the Lyonnese when excited are very dangerous to the Government. They are excited now, are repeating the splendid formula which they invented in 1831 -"We will live working, or die fighting”. a formula which sums up the claims of the modern proleta

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riat, and which the Lyonnese perhaps alone among proletaires honestly mean, and are demanding as a practical answer to their moan ateliers nationaux. Louis Blanc has gone deep into their hearts, and what he tried to realize under a Republic they now demand with menaces of their earthly Providence.

The Emperor cannot grant that demand.. Socialist by conviction as well as study, full of pity, like all men of his kind, for masses of men in suffering- though he would send a blind man to the galleys for an epigram without a wince he nevertheless must not drive propertied France quite mad by suggesting a poor law. Why the average Continental bourgeois, with 2001. a year, hates that particular form of Christian action in the way he does we have never fairly understood, probably no man ever will understand, unless he is a Scotch Calvinist, a Continental Catholic, or an English Antinomian miser. At all events he hates it, partly out of religious and partly out of social antipathies, till he can scarcely be brought to reason on it, till a serious proposal to introduce it turns the typical epicier of French comedy into an exceedingly dangerous and short-winded person with a bayonet. Nor as a Bonaparte could Napoleon well admit that M. Louis Blanc, Republican, anti-Napoleonic individual, with a history connected with 1848, had suggested the true solution of a great social problem, had shown himself-ah, what blasphemy! - wiser, nearer the root of things than an absolute Cæsar, with bees upon his robe. Bees; one must not forget that; to the foreigner the eagle, to the citizen a Bonaparte must be always the King-Bee. Still something must be done for the Lyonnese, or they will rise in insurrection, and the flame may spread to Paris; and the sousofficiers may decline fratricide, and the Empire may pass away like a dream. A vulgar despot, a person born in the purple, with belief in the divine right of Hapsburgs, Guelphs, and such like, would have done one of two things. He would have sent troops to shoot the hungry, as Louis XV. did twice, if not thrice, in his reign, and have declared wild talk about stomachs, and starvation, and rentals, sedition; or he would have fed the people like paupers, given bread in heaps until they were sufficiently filled, contented, and demoralized. An old Cæsar would have done the latter, have ordered up corn from Sicily, and doubled the daily dole, and been received with tumultuous cries of "Ave Imperator!" in return.

The Cæsar of the nineteenth century,

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