Patrins To Which Is Added an Inquirendo Into the Wit & Other Good Parts of His Late Majesty King Charles the Second — Inside the Classic

The Scholar as Unfinished Creature

In the opening essay, Guiney compares the visibility of children in Paris to that of students, whom she calls 'in a crude transitional state, and undergoing a growth much more distressing to a sensitive observer than the physical.' She extends the analogy to artists and poets, arguing that their rough first drafts ought to remain concealed. The essay draws on a philosopher who wished to 'shut up everything under ten years of age,' a remark Guiney calls 'the remark of an artist in human affairs.' She then pivots to the idea that the spiritual man is 'possessed of a divine indolence,' citing Arthur Hugh Clough as an 'expert in inaction.' The essay concludes that artists and thinkers are 'the protest which counts,' and that success is to them 'a thing foregone.'

Quiet London and the Sound of Silence

The essay 'Quiet London' offers a counterintuitive portrait of the city, emphasizing its 'strange whispers, meek undertones' rather than its noise. Guiney contrasts London with Paris, calling the parallel 'next weariest, in the scale of human comparisons, to that between D——s and T——y.' She describes the 'monstrous awe-engendering institution like the 'bus' as 'almost as deft and as still as a humming-bird.' The essay suggests that the city's instructed inhabitant knows it by its silences, not its clamor. This piece exemplifies Guiney's tendency to find the unexpected in familiar subjects, using precise sensory detail to overturn common assumptions.

The Inquirendo into Charles II

The final and longest piece, 'An Inquirendo into the Wit and Other Good Parts of His Late Majesty, King Charles the Second,' occupies a substantial portion of the volume. Though the catalog subject lists Charles II, the essay is not a biography but a character study focused on the king's wit and personal qualities. Guiney approaches her subject with a blend of historical curiosity and literary analysis, examining anecdotes and reputations. The essay's title itself signals a playful, investigative tone—'Inquirendo' suggesting a legal or formal inquiry. Based on the excerpts, the piece likely draws on seventeenth-century sources to reconstruct the king's conversational style and charm, though the full argument remains incomplete in the provided text.

Readers approaching Patrins should expect a miscellany of essays that resist easy categorization. Guiney moves from scholarly paradox to urban observation to historical portraiture, often within a single paragraph. The catalog labels 'American essays' and 'Charles II' only hint at the range; the book is better understood as a collection of intellectual curiosities, each essay a 'patrin' marking a path through the author's thought-country. Those interested in late nineteenth-century American essayists, or in the essay form as a vehicle for wit and learning, will find much to savor.

That rainy afternoon, Guiney’s meddling with King Charles’s wit felt less like scholarship than a cozy, private jest. It left me craving that same unhurried, companionable tone, so I reached for This and That and the Other — A Reader’s Guide, and found a kindred, rambling spirit. The rain never stopped; neither did the pleasant digressions.