School-life the happiest period of a man's career-Its pleasant memories— Troubles of a schoolboy are as nothing compared with his enjoyments— Boys not so black as they are painted-The pleasures of study-History and geography-Latin and Greek-Some remarks about masters-The bad and the good-" Dr. Herman "-The new type and the old"Mr. Creakle" "Dr. Strong "-Stories about Dominies-Busby of Westminster-Sir Henry Wotton-Dr. Keate-Dr. Hawtrey-Newborough-Arnold of Rugby-Anecdotes and illustrations-An ideal schoolmaster-Mr. Hughes on the character of Arnold-The country schoolmaster, as sketched by Goldsmith and William Howitt-Different relations now existing between schoolboys and their teachersHarry East's "school morality" no longer applicable-A school is a miniature world-How a boy should behave in it-Obedience and honour-A schoolboy's duty-Loveliness of duty-How to say one's lessons-Boys and their excuses-Waste of time-The importance of method-Relative value of study and recreation-Mistaken notions about talent-The great requisite is diligence-Samuel Drew: an anecdote and a moral-Barring-out and fagging-Bullying-Bullying as it was-Two kinds of bullies-School opinion can put down bullying.

I

T is but a commonplace that the happiest period of a man's career is his school life. At what other time is he so free from care and anxious thought, from suffering and sorrow, from the burden of responsibility? When else are his nights so undisturbed and his days so

46

PLEASUREs of memory.

blithe, his dreams so joyous and his hopes so radiant? In after years, when oppressed by domestic troubles, by political or professional labours, or by the hazards of commercial speculation, how regretfully he looks back to his days at Dr. Blimber's or the Sleepiton Grammar School! How, when bending over his banker's desk or his study table, pale and worn and weary, he recalls his pleasant seat by the porch door, whence he looked out upon green woods and greener fields, and that grove of elms, through which came sudden gleams of silver light as the troutful stream went on its way in sun and shadow! When his ears are deafened with the clamour of the world, how he thinks of the song of the birds that throbbed among the boughs of the old chestnut hard by his bedroom window! When he rides along the crowded street, intent on some business risk, or called to meet some sudden difficulty, how he remembers his cheerful walks, with one or two trusty friends, across the meadow and through the coppice, or to the old ruined castle far away among the lonely moors, or along the river bank until they came within hearing of the thunderous sea!

It is sometimes said that we are not conscious of our happiness until it has gone; that we do not realise the pleasures of school life until we have crossed the boundary-line that separates us from them for ever. This may possibly apply to some illconditioned spirits; but I am much mistaken if most boys are not keenly sensible of them even while enjoying them. You have only to spend a day at school to know that I am not exaggerating. Schoolboys, like men, have their moments of depression, of melancholy, of pain; but how swiftly these moments vanish, and how quickly the young heart thrills with a new bliss! The schoolroom has its troubles, I concede; but what are they when weighed against the superlative delights of the playground and the dormitory-the former with its football, cricket, or prisoners' base; the latter with its bolster fights, its secret suppers (though these I regard as contra bonos mores), its nightly yarns? An "imposition," once done, is forgotten; but who forgets a famous "scrimmage" at football, or the great victory of the "first eleven over the town cricketers, or that astounding "hare and hounds" race, when Tom Barker did ten miles in two hours and a quarter? There are "bullies" at school, you say. True; but

"

BOYS AND their lessons.

47

so there are in the world, and with this difference, that while nobody likes or supports or encourages the school bully, the social bully has generally a crowd of admirers. Of course there can be no school without "lessons," and to some illregulated minds these are the amari aliquid which sours and spoils the schoolboy's cup; but I venture to say, strange as the statement may sound, that a good many boys positively "like" their lessons; or, perhaps, to speak more cautiously, they feel a great interest in some, and no particular disrelish for others. Does any boy worthy of the name rebel against the study of history? Does he feel no interest in tracing the fortunes of Rome, or the rise and fall of Athens, or the long succession of great events which have raised his own country to her supremacy among the nations? Does not his heart throb and his cheek flush when he reads of the three hundred heroes who held the pass at Thermopylæ, or of that brave captain of the gate,

"Who kept the bridge so well In the brave days of old?"

Is he not conscious of pride and gratitude when he pores over the wondrous story of the courage of those English seamen who beat back the Invincible Armada? The warriors, statesmen, kings of former times, Hannibal and Miltiades and Julius Cæsar, Themistocles, Alexander the Great, our English Alfred, the Scottish Bruce, Marlborough and Turenne, Drake and Nelson, are these mere names which fall without meaning on his ear? Or, if we turn to geography, will you tell me it has no attraction for boys; that they find no amusement in reading of strange lands beyond the seas, of regions where for eight months in the year reigns an inflexible winter, and the bays and straits are bound in chains of ice, and the frozen snow gathers in huge hummocks and vast shining ridges; or of the tropical forest, with its profuseness of vegetable life, its great trees soaring high into the air like pyramids of verdure, its richly-plumaged birds flying from bough to bough, like flashes of colour; or of the islands of the Southern Ocean, with their crowns of palm and their reefs of coral, on which the waters break in a line of milk-white foam? Chemistry has chemistry, with its combinations and mutations of acids and gases, no delights for boys? Are there no boy-geologists, who

:

48

A DIGRESSION UPON MASTERS.

rejoice in detecting the "footprints of creation" among the ancient rocks; no boy-botanists, who find a pleasure in the study of the ferns in the leafy coppice, the plants that fringe the woodland pool, the flowers that smile and sparkle by the wayside? And even if we turn to Latin or Greek, may we not say that after a boy has mastered his "as in præsenti," or can conjugate ruw, he generally begins to discern a value and a beauty in classic learning? I have known boys with as keen a relish for Horace as the late James Hannay or Lord Lyttelton, boys who "spouted" the choruses of " 'Antigone" with as much fervour as Sandaye Mackaye in Kingsley's "Alton Locke." There is no inconsiderable nonsense talked about the dislike which boys entertain towards their studies. They cannot be expected to enjoy the preliminaries, the rough and rugged and uninteresting road at the beginning, more than men or women do; but if they are properly taught, they soon acquire a strong interest in, and a warm liking for, their work. Of course there are ignorant and idle boys, as there are ignorant and idle men; but these are the exceptions in a well-conducted school. It is only fair to remember that there are two ways of teaching, and that some teachers have an unfortunate facility for investing every subject they take up with the gloom of aridity. They give the boy husks for food, and then wonder that he has no appetite; when he asks for bread they fling to him a handful of stones, and are astonished (or profess to be) that he cannot digest them.

And here let us make the profound observation that there are masters and-masters. There are the cold, unsympathising, pragmatical pedagogoi, who regard a boy as an animal to be fed with "shorts" and "longs," and regaled with "rules" and "paradigms;" who take no account of his vivid young fancy and quick intellectual growth; who do not allow for differences of temperament and character, but stretch all upon the same iron Procrustean system. There are the indolent and superficial dominies, who have taken up "teaching" for a livelihood, but hold it either in contempt or detestation, and whose daily object is to sweep through their disagreeable tasks with the utmost possible rapidity. There are the ignorant impostors, who know but little of what they pretend to teach; and the laborious pedants, who, in accumulating details, have lost the power of expression. But there are also

GOOD TYPES AND BAD.

49

the masters who are in earnest, like that Dr. Herman whom Bulwer Lytton sketches in his "Caxtons: "The youthful idea! he had rammed it tight! he had rammed it loose! he had rammed it with pictorial illustrations! he had rammed it with the monitorial system! he had rammed it in every conceivable way, and with every imaginable ramrod." Such a man may make mistakes; but at least he infuses into his pupils something of his own earnestness. There are the large-hearted, broad-minded masters, men with rare intellectual powers and generous sympathies; men like Dr. Arnold of Rugby or Dr. Butler of Shrewsbury, who command the love and respect and willing obedience of their pupils, and communicate to them their own love of knowledge, their own high sense of duty. Perhaps, all things considered, Dr. Arnold, as we shall shortly see, was the ideal schoolmaster; he so thoroughly entered into a boy's nature, knew so well how to inspire him with a love of work, could so successfully elevate his character. The schoolmaster of this type-and, happily, it is now the prevalent type-contrasts very strangely with him of the old school, whose shibboleth was "Ut verberandus esset," whose lore was limited almost exclusively to the "dead languages, and to whom the intellectual discipline and moral training of his pupils were matters of no concern. In his "David Copperfield," Dickens sketches a couple of the rúgavvor of a past generation, and the portraits are known to be from the life. First we are introduced to Mr. Creakle, "the sternest and most severe of masters," who "laid about him right and left every day of his life, charging in among the boys like a trooper, and slashing away unmercifully." Dickens adds :-"I should think there never can have been a man who enjoyed his profession more than Mr. Creakle did. He had a delight in cutting at the boys which was like the satisfaction of a craving appetite. I am confident that he couldn't resist a chubby boy especially; that there was a fascination in such a subject which made him restless in his mind until he had scored and marked him for the day. I was chubby myself, and ought to know. I am sure, when I think of the fellow now, my blood rises against him with the disinterested indignation I should feel if I could have known all about him without having ever been in his power; but it rises hotly because I know him to have been an incapable brute, who had no more right to be

D