Miss Whately’s book, mainly by virtue of the great number of the Archbishop’s letters contained in it, succeeds in giving a very just and vivid notion of her father’s character and tone of mind. She is hardly justified, I think, by facts, in speaking of the “delicacy of his consideration for the feelings of others.” A little circumstance that I well remember scarcely seems to indicate the possession of any such quality. It was about the time when the then burning question of Parliamentary Reform was exercising the minds of all men. A large party of undergraduates were dining at Whately’s table--such invitations were usually given by him in every term--and Mrs. Whately at the head of the long table was asking the young man who sat next her what was the general opinion in the hall on the Reform question, when Whately, who at the bottom of the table had overheard her, called out, “Why don’t you ask what the bedmakers think?” I have little doubt that the opinion of the bedmakers might have been ascertained with an equal, or perhaps greater, degree of profit. But I cannot think that the Principal showed much “delicacy of consideration” for the feelings of his guests. Perhaps a degree of roughness akin to this, though hardly altogether of the same sort, contributed to increase that strong feeling of dislike for Whately which, outside his own Oriel, was pretty generally felt in Oxford, and which was mainly caused by more serious objections to his political, and in some degree religious, Liberalism. I fear that I profited very little by his tuition at Alban Hall, doubtless chiefly from my own fault and idleness. But other causes contributed also to the result. The classical lectures were such as I had left a long way behind me. No study on my part was necessary to hold my own in the lecture-room by the side of my fellows in the team. Yet, of course, it was easy for such a teacher as Whately to perceive that I was trusting to Winchester work rather than to his instruction. And naturally this did not please him. I think too that he had a prejudice against public schools in general, and that for some reason or other he disliked Winchester in particular. I remember his saying to me once--though I totally forget on what occasion--“We don’t want any New College ways here, sir!” I told him that I feared I did not deserve the compliment of being supposed capable of bringing any such there. And the reply failed to mollify him.