In

The Parody, or rather imitation of style, is something of an entirely different nature. this Bon Gualtier has been eminently successful, tho' severe in the imitation of weaknesses. The imitation of prose-writers too, whether in their peculiarities, or quaint originalities is a thing to be aimed at, and rather desired. It gives us a useful initiation into diversities of style, and is a harmless amusement where no expression of feeling is carped at and perverted. And here I think we may lay it down as a general rule, that Parody of what is expressive of any feeling or emotion of the mind, is a violation of Beauty, and a direct insult to the author of the thing Parodied; while that which is not expressive of any feeling may be lawfully parodied. Descriptive poetry, therefore, often admits of lawful Parody, that is of Parody which does not violate our

sense

of the beautiful or pathetic. It is for this reason that many parts of Macaulay's Lays, so vigorous in scenic effect, yet so destitute of any expressed feeling, of any but implied. emotion, are often excusably Parodied. Still I think all Parodies are objectionable, as all poetry is, or ought to be the exponent of feeling, and, it seems to me, that once having read a Parody, one's mind usually recurs to that more than the original. A harmful influence is therefore exerted by Parodywriters, and it is on this ground, as well as from having a higher opinion of public taste, that we have excluded all Parodies from our columns.

The members of the Peace congress are, doubtless, very well-meaning individuals, but it must be evident to every one that they are beginning their work at the wrong end. War is, so to speak, but the expression of certain passions and inclinations natural to men; therefore, to put an end to war we must change the nature of man; and to attempt to do this by representing the evils of war, and the blessings of peace, is absurd. Nations do not rush blindly into war; they are perfectly aware of its consequences; but they hope to obtain by fighting some benefit which will be more than equivalent to all its evils. When

the world becomes really Christian, then and then only will war cease; and the only way to contribute towards this end is to spread abroad the doctrines by which alone it can be obtained. In the present fallen state of mankind it would, however, seem that war was almost a necessary evil.

It is said that the principal difference between the sane and the insane is that the latter are incapable of combining among themselves to effect any object. Now, when the human race was dispersed through the world, the different nations would probably exist in a state of life which it would require little or no combination amongst themselves to support; each one could easily obtain, with very little intellectual effort, what was necessary to satisfy the few requirements of savage life; and as the intellect grew dull from want of use, the nations would, with one or two exceptions, rapidly sink into a state similiar to that of the Australian savages of the present day. This state would continue until some nation or individuals of bolder genius than the rest, were to try to wrest from others some privilege which they had not themselves. To perform and to resist this would require combination; in other respects also men (would exert their intellectual faculties more when their life or liberty was in danger, than would be necessary in the mere act of procuring food. The rude weapon, for instance, which would have sufficed to kill a stag or a sheep, would not be good enough to use in fighting with

man.

Here, then, a want would be created: to satisfy it would require an effort of the mind; and thus the faculties of the mind, by continual use, would gradually get brighter and brighter. But even thus mankind would have advanced but slowly, if some nation, which had preserved some of the antediluvian civilization, had not extended its influence by war; it would have taken a long time to have spread its civilization by example, for it requires a powerful shock to break the bonds of habit : but the conquered were obliged to do many things as slaves which they would not have done if free. People repeat the line, "What millions died that Cæsar might be great!" as if the fruit of all this slaughter had been merely the greatness of Cæsar, and not the civilization of

in the exhibition are as follows:-Gold and

silver as much as would fill three hundred chariots, and drapery and garments of every kind, and stockings, and even instruments of music, and every kind of furniture and beds, and in particular some soap which was sent by the colonists in the new world, I mean the American, and which with due generosity and forethought they had saved from their washings and lavations for one year indeed, the preceding one. They indeed, then, if that is to say they had used anything at all, made use of sand and brown paper for the last year; but I for my part incline to the former opinion. And about the building thus much I know, but many people from east and west came to England to see the marvel, and in particular the nations about were very zealous to excel one another; and the great city of the Queen was very full; and in my opinion too full to be, at least that is to say, comfortable. And the work of the tiller of the earth was the most renowned of those which we ourselves know of by hearsay;

and of this matter thus much has been said.

To watch fellows coming in at the School Gates, is an amusing enough employment, when late for calling over: now you see that poor specimen of creation, commonly called a swot, usually with some odd shake of his head, some strange walk, supposed to be caused by his head being top-heavy with cramming, and his nether-limbs weak from never having been used generally fellows of this class have short bodies, have never been known to express any opinion, except in form, and altogether cut the close. Next perhaps will come one "serenely unconscious that he is a fool," rather a swell, who follows up in Wellingtons, and when following up refrains from sullying his whites; he deigns not to get higher than

the Shell. Next comes one whose whole life here has been one continued struggle to be popular; he can shew his knowledge, or perhaps we ought to say his ignorance, upon any subject; in fact he seeks "to adapt his conversation to his companion," and accordingly has not the slightest objection to contradict himself; if he is 'cute enough, he will perhaps, to a certain extent, gain his end, if not, he will be

voted a bore. Of small boys you will especially notice two sets; one that gets dirty scrummaging at punt-about, which enjoys itself, and probably is happy, the other, very swell, consists of those whose legs being eight inches round, display to great advantage a stripe four inches broad, who pride themselves on their hats, gloves, and the way they tie a tie, and who never forget that I is a capital letter. Perhaps you may next see a fellow who perfectly corresponds to what among womankind is called strong-minded; indeed his strong mind has eaten up all other qualities he ever had, and though he wants the power of being agreable, he has the still rarer power of being intensely disagreable. Such fellows usually are able to make a great noise, have unbounded brass, and "don't care. Next perhaps comes a Rugbæan poet, he has a moony look about him, his eyes are either fixed on the sky or on the ground, in either case he walks through the puddles. Another, who is walking by himself, has ever provided against speaking ill of his neighbours by not speaking at all; talk to him and he smiles; laugh at him and he grins; but never gets any further. Soon you smell an incipient smoker, who has perhaps in his pocket a dirty brown clay, carefully kept in a satin-lined case. He has not yet found out the enjoyment of 'baccy, but then he can draw the smoke into his sick. Another you know by his slow draggling mouth and then puff it out again, without being walk to be a determined lounger, one of those who actually do nothing, usually of a very fair size, more shame for them, in the shell; who, perhaps perceiving, if they have sense enough to perceive anything, that standing in goal is being like them, naturally abhor that practice. for the express purpose of preventing others. Such generally go by the deserved name of lubber, and are generally to be seen lazily standing about the gates of their houses.

We thank one of our friends, who advises us to have more contributors, and hope he will act up to his own advice.

Printed by Crossley and Billington, Rugby.

No. XVI.

KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD.

Knowledge of the world baffles our calculations; it does not always require experience; some men take to it intuitively, and their first step in life exhibits the same mastery over their cotemporaries, the same consideration, the same address, as distinguish the close of their career. Congreve had, for instance, written his comedies at twenty-five. There are, indeed, men, who say they know the world because they know its vices; but such pretenders really are as bad judges of our minds as a physician would be who had only studied the body in a diseased state. True knowledge of the world, I think, consists in a knowledge of men's weaknesses rather than of their vices; for it is by the former, rather than the latter, that our actions are governed; and very often those weaknesses are the most amiable part about us. It is better to be acquainted with the cause, than with thousands of its effects.

But

But the same worldly wisdom which we admire in a writer, often would not, had circumstances brought him prominently forward, have rendered him equally successful in action. Swift, for instance, undoubtedly the cleverest and most sensible writer of his day, was, though profoundly selfish, one of the least sensible politicians; and though he only recognised in politics a road to a bishopric, yet, in spite of his abilities, he never attained his end. Byron, when quarrelling with the world, as Childe Harold, proves and displays his genius. Byron, quarrelling with the world in his own person, betrays nothing but fretful spleen and morbid sensitiveness at what he alone thought insult. Goldsmith in the closet and with his pen, was very different from Goldsmith in society and with his tongue. Hence, often those who act badly for themselves, may be good advisers for others, since their sense will be clear when exerted for us, though vanity, passion, or temper, bias them in their own emergencies.

There is a sort of wit which writers of this class show in their writings. Horace, I suppose, is the wittiest of all Roman authors: Shakspere, Fielding, and Sidney Smith, all men of profound knowledge of the human mind, are also among the most witty. Even in Tacitus we sometimes come to a sentence which makes us smile, from the very depth, truth, and importance, contained in its sententious brevity. Perhaps such wit as the above has its basis in truth; perhaps a perception of humour is necessary for a Tacitus to express accurately what he has to say about men.

It is not strange that there is no popular writer whose works do not contain that common sense which knowledge of the world gives, and which is generally but falsely supposed to be incompatible with imagination. Compare Scott and Shelley: both had wonderful imagination; yet the one knew his kind, and is popular; the other is not appreciated by many, because he knew not the feelings of many. Lastly; let me give a good instance I have read of those little things which, while they seem mere strokes of humour, are, in reality, proofs of knowledge of the world:When royalty and everything connected with royalty was banished from France, a showman, who possessed an enormous Bengal Tiger, was in a state of anopia, because it was called Royal. Accordingly, he stuck placards about, stating that he had changed the name of the beast, from Tigre Royal, to Tigre National. In consideration of his patriotism people went to see it, and he reaped a good harvest from his good sense.

If we take the higher and more extended meaning of the word Education, and consider every hour we live, whether spent with masters or in the close, reading, or playing games, as educating us, giving us new ideas, confirming us in evil or in good, we must, with a modern writer, divide the influences of education into

regulated and unregulated. Under the regulated, of course, will come all the work we do under the direct care of masters, the books we read with them, the ideas we imbibe from them. Of these I shall say nothing; first, because it would be a subject unsuitable for this paper; secondly, because it depends on those whose direct care it is to teach us, more than ourselves, whether we receive good or evil, right or wrong, from them. It is of the unregulated forces of education that I wish to speak in this article. And this is the more worthy of comment, because they naturally exercise a greater influence over us for it is a recognised principle that what is done voluntarily has more weight with men than what they are in a manner forced to do. David Copperfield's impressions and ideas were much more formed on Roderick Random than all Miss Murdstone's teaching. It is not difficult to see the reason why this is so, for the choice of books to read by ourselves, and whether we shall play games or not, naturally follows our inclinations, and what we like of course makes the deepest impression on us. Next to our influence on each other (which has been too often impressed upon us in other places for me to add anything to it) the chief unregulated forces of education in this place will be games and private reading. I rank games among them not only because they educate the body, which would come under the meaning of education we started with, but because they also help to educate the mind. First, because a fellow who plays games associatcs more with other fellows than one who does not secondly, because the elasticity and freshness of mind is inseparably connected with the elasticity and vigour of the body, which are the chief benefits derived from football and other games. But enough on this subject has

been said in the last two numbers of "The Rugbæan," and to harp too much on one string is wearisome to the hearer, and therefore worse than not touching it at all. Let us turn our attention, then, to that second means of education that I mentioned, private reading. Consider that this is not a mere question of an hour or two's amusement, by which, if no good is done, yet no harm is. That can never be the case with reading; it must be for the one or the other. Insensible, I grant, its influence may be, yet it

is no less powerful for that; for some amongst us it is almost their only recreation; for such its affect cannot be neutral. All of us, more or less, read some books; and with the greater number novels form the staple commodity. I would not wish to be understood to decry and run down all novels; for that would be mere folly and ignorance; some novels are capable of exerting, and do exert, influence for good; but I would be understood to lift up a voice against such books as Harrison Ainsworth's, and others of that class; influence they have, tremendous influence, but it is all for evil. I would also wish to condemn novels forming too exclusively any one's reading, to the expulsion of History, and Poetry. It is one of the gains of this place that the latter class of books are completely within our reach, and it is our own fault if we do not make use of them. The present constitution of house libraries, seems to be one of the best in the internal

arrangements of the school. A great many fellows, who now make a good use of their house library, would be led to buy books for themselves, and naturally the cheapest, which are too often the worst, had they not good novels, history, and poetry, almost put into their hands; the great decrease in the price of books, while in the main it has done good is not unattended by evils, for it increases the circulation of the bad as well as the good. It used formerly to be one of the boasts of Rugby, that while Rugbæans were as good scholars as fellows from other schools, they had a large acquaintance with the better English literature, and especially history; let us see if we cannot keep up the reputation. In conclusion, let me advise those who may read this article, not to neglect this important means of self-improvement; for even those who do their work best in school, will not have gained all the good that is to be got here, if they do not endeavour to make use of it, if Wordsworth and other poets have no voice for them, if their knowledge of history is limited to what they learn in form. One of the chief aims of " 'The Rugbæan" will be fully answered, if it has helped to arouse in any, whether writers or readers, a taste for a higher kind of literature than that to which they had hitherto been accustomed.