A clergyman and professor of the Church of England, was born at Lancaster, England, in 1794. He graduated from Trinity College in 1816, and received the degree of D.D.; was ordained deacon in 1820, and priest in the following year; became master of Trinity College, Cambridge, 1841, and was vice-chancellor of the university. Previous to this he was fellow and tutor of Trinity College, and from 1828 to 1832 was professor of mineralogy in the university; from 1838 to 1855 he was professor of moral theology. Dr. Whewell died at Cambridge, March 6, 1866. As an author he was prolific; among his works being, “An Elementary treatise on Mechanics” (1819)—which passed through seven editions:—“Analytical Statics” (1826):—“Architectural Notes on German Churches” (1830):—“Principles of University Education” (1831):—“First Principles of Mechanics” (1832):—“Doctrine of Limits” (eod.):—“Treatise of Dynamics” (1832–36):—“Astronomy and General Physics” (1834):—“Mechanical Euclid” (1837):—“History of the Inductive Sciences” (eod. 3 vols.):—“The Mechanics of Engineering” (1841):—“Liberal Education” (1845):—“Verse Translations from German” (1847):—“Lectures on the History of Moral Philosophy” (1852):—“Systematic Morality” (1846):—“Elements of Morality” (1848). He was also editor of an edition of Newton’s “Principia,” first three sections (1846); of Butler’s “Human Nature” (1843); of Butler’s “Moral Subjects” (1849); and of various other scientific works. He was also the author of various scientific articles in leading periodicals, and published many pamphlets and numerous sermons.

Personal

  This day was rendered interesting by a visit from one of the most remarkable of our scholars and men of science, Professor Whewell. He breakfasted with me and my nephew. The occasion of his visit was, that I might look over his translation of “Hermann and Dorothea” with the original, with a view to some suggestions I had made. His pursuits are very multifarious. To some one who said, “Whewell’s forte is science,”—“Yes,” said Sydney Smith, “and his foible is omni-science.”

  The immediate object of my writing to you is that I have been your trumpeter, in my best fashion, I hope, with an “éloquence vraiment britannique,” in announcing your forthcoming great work, particularly at a great déjeûner given to us this morning by Humboldt. I ventured to mention of what great use your book would be to him before he launched his “Cosmos,” and I hope you will send him one of your first copies, through his relative Baron Bülow. He expressed great regret at never having made your acquaintance, which feeling I augmented by telling him you were the English Humboldt.

  He is a very manly person, and I should think above all mean feelings of jealousy.

  Dr. Whewell’s accession to the Mastership of Trinity might well have been an era in the history of that “royal and religious foundation.” The new head was a gentleman of most commanding personal appearance, and the very sound of his powerful voice betokened no ordinary man. He was a remarkably good rider even in a country of horsemen, and the anecdote was often told, and not altogether repudiated by him, how, in his younger days, about the time of his ordination, a pugilist, in whose company he accidentally found himself while travelling, audibly lamented that such lusty thews and sinews should be thrown away on a parson. With these physical advantages was combined a knowledge almost literally universal. Some people are said to know a little of everything; he might be truly said to know a great deal of everything.

  The master is a man to be noted, even physically. He is much above ordinary size, and, though now gray-haired, would be extraordinarily handsome if it were not for an expression of ill-temper about the mouth. An Englishman is proud; a Cambridge man is the proudest of Englishmen; and Dr. Whewell, the proudest of Cambridge men. In the opinion of a Cambridge man, to be master of Trinity, is to be master of the world!… Dr. Whewell’s self-respect and immense self-esteem led him to imperiousness of manner which touches the border of discourtesy. He loves a good joke, but his jests are serious. He writes verses that are touchingly beautiful, but it is difficult to believe, in his presence, that he writes them.

  We spent two days at Carclew with Dr. Whewell and his wife, Lady Afleck. He was as urbane and friendly as needs be, and seemed determined to live down Sydney Smith’s quiz about astronomy being his forte, and omniscience his foible; for he rarely chose to know more about things than other people, though we perseveringly plied him with all manner of odds and ends of difficulties. There is a capital element of fun in that vast head of his; witness his caricatures of Sedgwick in his Cornish Sketch-Book. He made me notice the darkness of sky between two rainbows, a fact only lately secured, and a part, he says, of the whole theory of the rainbow. Speaking of some book he had written with a touch of architecture in it, he said, “There are many wise things in it, but I’m wiser still!” which he hoped was a modest way of stating the case.

  I am sorry to say Whewell is beaten by his terrible foe. It is only a question of hours now. The feeling here is deep and solemn. Men say he was the leader in progress and reform, when such were a persecuted minority. He was the regenerator of Trinity; he is connected with every step forward that the University has made for years past. Yes. He was a very great man: and men here feel the awful suddenness of it. He never was better or pleasanter than on the Thursday, when I dined there, and he was asking me for my “dear wife.” His manner with women was always charming. He was very kind to me, and I was very fond of him.

  In intellectual eminence we cannot follow him. But the moral qualities which clustered about his mental power may be imitated even by the least gifted. The unflagging energy which overcame all disadvantages, the manly courage which ever disdained unworthy applause, the simple faith in God through Christ, which in him was thrown into stronger relief by his large acquaintance with all branches of human knowledge; such qualities as these are not beyond the reach of any. His example supplies a fresh incentive as it imposes a fresh responsibility.

  Any one may point out his failings, which were accidental and external; but a man must be as great and strong as he was adequately to gauge his essential greatness and strength. In the judgment of all who knew him, his life was throughout one of exemplary purity. The temptations of youth left him unscathed and unstained. Pure in deed, he was also pure in word. Even in his youth, when a bad fashion corrupted many, he religiously abstained from the use of profane oaths, and from the utterance of any word unbefitting Christian lips…. Bold and confident as he was in all that he considered legitimate matter for speculation, he was humble and reverent in matters of faith. His orthodoxy was the expression of a sincere and unwavering belief. At the same time he was tolerant and charitable towards those of a different creed, and never was heard to impute unworthy motives to men who doubted what he believed…. His munificence was extraordinary. Though no one could charge him, like the Cardinal, with being unsatisfied in getting, yet in bestowing he was, like him, most princely. Besides devoting the main part of his fortune for the benefit of the University and the College, he gave largely in private charities, and lent considerable sums to persons who had as little claim upon him as prospect of repaying.

  The master of Trinity was conspicuous as a rough customer, an intellectual bully, an overbearing disputant; the character was as well established as that of Sam Johnson. But there was a marked difference. It was said of Johnson that if his pistol missed fire, he would knock you down with the butt end of it; but Whewell, in like case, always acknowledged the miss, and loaded again or not, as the case might be. He reminded me of Dennis Brulgruddery, who says to Dan, “pacify me with a good reason, and you’ll find me a dutiful master.” I knew him from the time when he was my teacher at Cambridge, more than forty years. As a teacher, he was anything but dictatorial, and he was perfectly accessible to proposal of objections. He came in contact with me in his slashing way twice in our after joint lives, and on both occasions he acknowledged himself overcome, by that change of manner, and apologetic mode of continuance, which I had seen him employ towards others under like circumstances…. I have said that Whewell was gentle with his pupils; it was the same with all who wanted teaching: it was only on an armed enemy that he drew his weapon.

  During our long friendship I never remember hearing him speak unkindly of any one behind his back, though he was free enough and bold enough spoken when he had you face to face. He was wonderfully fond of his friends, whom he never forgot. I remember his having made one of them sit for his picture to Lonsdale, and then his having given the portrait which he paid for to a third party, a mutual friend. But it would be endless to tell instances of his generous spirit. And, in fact, it was that, no doubt which gained him the friendship of so many who were incompetent to profit by his extraordinary intellectual powers. He conciliated all but proud, self-conceited people, who did not like to be put down by a word or two from him.

  I do not think adequate justice can be rendered to Dr. Whewell’s vast knowledge and power by any person who did not know him intimately, except by the examination of his extensive correspondence; such an examination cannot fail to raise the opinion formed of him by the study of his published works, however high that opinion may be.

  The same ardour which distinguishes his intellectual temperament belonged in an even greater degree to his affections. They bound him with filial fondness to his remote Lancashire home, to his family, to the picturesque town of Lancaster itself, to his old schoolmaster, Joseph Rowley. They bound him with great tenacity and appreciative esteem to persons from whom he differed in opinion on almost every point. They bound him with the most indulgent tenderness to younger relations who could contribute nothing but love and gratitude to the unequal friendship. And they bound him also with a loyalty and fidelity which no shock of disagreement, no strain of separation, could permanently impair, to the “friends of a lifetime,” as he delighted to call Herschel, Jones, Sedgwick, Worsley, Peacock, Kenelm Digby, Airy, Henslow, Forbes, and others, whose friendship he reckoned amongst the greatest blessings of his life.

  A controversy used to exist in Cambridge as to the proper pronunciation of Whewell’s name. He was described in a newspaper article as a man whose name it was more easy to whistle than to spell; and in practice the pronunciation was somewhat various, some saying You-ell, others Woo-ell, or perhaps rather Whoo-ell. On a public occasion, when he recited his own name, I remember that his own pronunciation corresponded nearly to the last of these three, which therefore I presume may be regarded as the correct rendering of the name…. When I was a young man in Cambridge, Whewell was in the prime of his powers. His “History of the Inductive Sciences” was published while I was an undergraduate; and I remember him well in the University pulpit, when he preached his course of sermons on the “Foundation of Morals.” I have always thought that the appearance of Whewell in St. Mary’s was one of the most impressive that I have ever seen; his commanding person, his grand brow, his massive head, the very impersonation of physical and mental strength—it is difficult to conceive a more noble picture.

  The great doctor was not, in undergraduate eyes—or, at all events, in the eyes of those like myself who were about “only not to disgrace themselves by taking an ordinary degree”—an agreeable person. His manners were rough, and his temper, when he troubled himself to keep it at all, of the shortest…. Most people in his eyes were wuthless who were not acquainted with the Inductive Sciences. His presence was majestic; he made an admirable figure-head for the collegiate ship; but, though I speak of course as a cabin-boy, I never heard of his troubling himself about the crew.

  By dint of sheer ability and force of character he fought his way up to the very highest place in the University of Cambridge—certainly a much more democratic institution than that of Oxford,—becoming in succession Fellow and Tutor of his college, Professor of Mineralogy, Professor of Moral Philosophy, and Master of Trinity. In this last capacity Whewell was emphatically king, or rather pope, of Cambridge. The authority that he exercised was of the manner of a paternal despotism, the chief thing postulated from his subjects being that they should agree with him. To strangers—especially unargumentative strangers,—and to dutiful subjects,—no potentate could be more gracious, but the rebellious spirits who set up theories of their own were apt to be somewhat roughly treated. Whewell was conscious of the enormous extent of his knowledge and perhaps too anxious to prove that nothing was omitted from it; as was wittingly said of him. “Science was his forte and omniscience his foible.”

  My reminiscences of the great Dr. Whewell, Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, and author, among other books, of the famous “History” and of the “Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences,” are chiefly those of the days when I was an undergraduate, a scholar, and a young fellow of the great college over which he presided…. Only a few favored youths, chiefly scholars, were invited to what were called “the standups”—that is, to parties at the master’s lodge, where no undergraduate was ever supposed to take the awful liberty of sitting down…. I vividly recall the fine and stately presence of the master, which (as another myth related) made a prize-fighter deplore that so splendid a physique, and such thews and sinews, should be thrown away on a mere clergyman! I remember him especially in the college chapel. He was an unfeignedly religious man.

  Whewell was a man of splendid physical development. A Cambridge legend told of a prize-fighter who had exclaimed, “What a man was lost when they made you a parson!” His face showed power rather than delicacy, and a massive brow gave special dignity to his appearance. His masculine vigour implied certain unattractive qualities. His friend Hare felt it a duty to remonstrate with him upon his “vehemence” and impatience, and held up as examples the sweetness of William Wilberforce, Bishop Otter and Manning. Whewell received the advice good-temperedly, and admitted that in so “eminent a station” as the mastership he was especially bound not to be “overbearing.” He did not, however, quite admit the facts alleged in proof. He loved an argument, and his position as a great man in a small circle tended to make the argument one-sided. He was popular as a tutor; but for some time he provoked a good deal of hostility as master. In early days he had little chance of acquiring social refinement; and, though he was anxious to be hospitable, his sense of the dignity of his position led to a formality which made the drawing-room of the lodge anything but a place of easy sociability. In later years age and sorrow made him conspicuously milder, and the object not only of the pride but of the warm affection of the University. Though rough at times, he was from the first magnanimous; he never cherished resentment and admitted defeat frankly, and received the opinions of young and insignificant persons with remarkable courtesy. Few men, too, have had more friends or retained their friendships more carefully. He had many controversies, but no personal quarrels. His domestic life was perfect, and he always respected and attracted women.

History of the Inductive Sciences, 1837

  Mr. Whewell appears on all occasions to be fully alive to the extent of these pretensions, and the consequent importance and dignity of his task. There is, however, no arrogance in the tone in which they are put forward—and, so far as we can perceive, no partiality in the bias, and assuredly no levity in the temper, of his decisions on the many delicate and difficult points on which, as an historian and a philosopher, he has to pass judgment—not merely as to simple personal questions of priority, but as to the substantial merits and value of inductions and discoveries themselves…. Its chief characters are a remarkable occasional point and felicity of expression, and the almost systematic adoption, as a mode of illustration, of a great assemblage and variety of metaphorical allusion, much greater indeed than we should like to see adopted by an author less thoroughly imbued with his own meaning, and less capable of curbing the exuberance of a lively fancy into an entire subordination to his reason…. Among our author’s various and brilliant accomplishments not one of the least remarkable is his poetical talent, of which we have specimens in the mottoes prefixed to the several books of his “History.”

  One attempt—a bold and successful one—has been made in our own day to unite two or three of the departments,—I mean the History and the Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences. An English philosopher, of wonderful versatility, industry, and power, has erected a permanent monument to his reputation in a voluminous work bearing the preceding title.

  The ablest historian of Natural Science.

  In a work of so much merit as Dr. Whewell’s, it is important that these errors should be indicated, because we have no other book of value on the general history of the sciences; and many authors have deceived themselves and their readers, by implicitly adopting the statements of this able and industrious writer. I would particularly caution the student in regard to the physiological part of Dr. Whewell’s “History,” where, for instance, the antagonism between the methods of Cuvier and Bichat is entirely lost sight of, and while whole pages are devoted to Cuvier, Bichat is disposed of in four lines.

  The excellence of the book as a whole is wonderful, if we consider the rapidity with which it was composed. We learn on good authority that it was sent to the press chapter by chapter as it was written. He worked with the hot haste of a parliamentary reporter. For this haste there was no apparent reason; no reason indeed, except such as sprang from his own ardent temperament. Other yet unexplored fields of knowledge were tempting him, and he was eager to be done with the mechanical drudgery imposed by the task in hand. He had none of that “long patience” which, according to Cuvier, is “genius.” But few will deny that he had genius, and his example alone would suffice to prove that Cuvier’s definition is not universally true.

  Let any man read so common a book as Whewell’s “History of the Inductive Sciences,” and instead of rising from the perusal with the idea that science is “exact,” “certain,” and “stable,” he will be much more likely to institute a comparison between it and the ever-changing sands on the shores of the ocean than with the fixed and ever-lasting hills.

  Happily for me, Dr. Whewell, early in this year, published his “History of the Inductive Sciences.” I read it with eagerness, and found in it a considerable approximation to what I wanted. Much, if not most, of the philosophy of the work appeared open to objection; but the materials were there, for my own thoughts to work upon; and the author had given to those materials that first degree of elaboration, which so greatly facilitates and abridges the subsequent labour. I had now obtained what I had been waiting for.

  This may properly be called one of the great books of the last half-century. The author was a man whose prodigious learning made him one of the intellectual wonders of the last generation; but what was scarcely less remarkable than his learning was the subordination in which his attainments were held by his good sense and good judgment…. To the general student, the book on the scientific ideas prevailing in the Middle Ages will probably be found of most especial interest and value. The additions incorporated in the third edition are of much importance.

General

  I am reading Whewell, and admire all his observations on the mystical taste and studies of the Middle Ages, and his illustrations of the manner in which their mode of reasoning retarded the progress of Science.

  The reputation of Dr. Whewell for energy of understanding and variety of attainment led us to his work on morals [“Elements of Morality”] with no little eagerness of hope. We forgot for the moment the questionable symptoms presented in his former works. We forgot his republication of Mackintosh’s “Essay,”—an essay so pleasant in its gossips so slender in its philosophy. We remembered only his position as professor at Cambridge, and his judgment as an admirer of Butler: and expected to find the hints of that great writer worked out at length into a consistent theory of human duty. The expectation has been wholly disappointed…. When Dr. Whewell forgets what is expected of him as a metaphysician, and writes out his unelaborated sentiments on the actual interest and pending questions of the world,—Slavery, Church Establishments, Public Education,—there is a vigor and directness in his treatment which, though sometimes vehement and overbearing, is never inefficient. But in our estimation there is something inexpressibly ungainly in all his movements “on the a priori road.” With constant exercise he makes no way; but after the boldest feats of verbal conjuring, in which energy of resolve is more remarkable than subtlety of execution, remains, so far as common eyes can measure, precisely where he was.

  Have you read Dr. Whewell (of Cambridge) on Morality and Polity? He has taken much from my “Ethics” without even mentioning the work, and even asked me, when I breakfasted with him, whether I had any objection to his using words I had formed, in order to express certain ideas, without acknowledging the source. I answered that he as a gentleman would know what was just and proper. The work has since been published. He uses my technical expressions, and, as I said, does not even mention my work.

  Professor Whewell is well known as an author, who has made science in its various branches and its highest relations his constant and anxious study. He is a plain and even dry writer, seldom eloquent, indulging in few flights of fancy, in no captivating theories, and in no charms of diction; but his sober and accurate reasoning and profound knowledge of his subject, make him a high authority and a safe guide, in comparison of those flowery and seductive writers whose shallow draughts at the Pierian spring have served only to intoxicate them, and to give them presumption in proportion to their incapacity.

  They say in Cambridge that Dr. Whewell’s book, “Plurality of Worlds,” reasons to this end: The planets were created for this world; this world for man; man for England; England for Cambridge; and Cambridge for Dr. Whewell!

  Speaking generally it may be said that Whewell was not really great as a mathematician. There are indications in his writings of a certain rude strength, but he had not the true mathematical instinct; he had no taste for the more refined methods of modern analysis, and so far as I know he made no real mathematical advance. The history and philosophy of science were more practicable to him; he took a keen interest in watching the course of science, and in certain branches, especially that of the theory of tides, he attempted to make contributions; but any addition to our physical knowledge which he may have made bears no comparison with the greatness of his mental endowment, and must not be taken as a measure of the man.

  He was rather a bully, and his work has no extraordinary merit of style, but it is interesting as being among the latest in which science permitted her votaries not to specialize very much, and rather to apply the ancient education to the new subjects than to be wholly theirs.

  Whewell’s strong point is his great knowledge of the history of science. His inductive theory is somewhat loose. It amounts to no more than a succession of tests of hypotheses; and of these tests the most stringent, prediction and consilience of inductions, are open to the fatal objection that they are not and cannot be applied to all inductions.

  Whewell did great service to the cause of scientific thought. His was a bold attempt to reduce to something like coherence the confused mass of scientific knowledge. Underlying the book was the idea of the organic unity of the sciences; and if he failed to realize his ideal, the reason lay not in his lack of insight, but in the fact that scientists had not then discovered by observation and experiment the marvelous unity of nature.