NOTICES OF ENGLAND-HER PEOPLE AND INSTITUTIONS.* BY A YANKEE OXONIAN. No. 1.-STATE OF EDUCATION; AND THE UNiversities. No levelled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, SHAKSPEARE-TIMON OF ATHENS. THE first circumstances that strike a foreigner in his intercourse with the humbler orders of England, are the apathetic stupidity and want of intelligence which appear to form the leading features of their national character. They have none of that prying, and often insufferably troublesome, curiosity, which so eminently distinguishes their inquisitive neighbours of the North. They are perfectly contented to jog along in the course to which nature or accident may have destined them, without seeking to amend their lot by any extraneous resources, or to extend their information beyond the narrow limits of their own peculiar drudgery or profession. No indignities rouse them to resistance, except those which either trench on their bodily comforts, their prejudices, or their habits. It is to these points, accordingly, that you must principally direct yourself, if you wish to secure their active co-operation in any contest or discussion, whether political or moral ;-it is not their reason or their patriotism, but their grosser propensities that you must endeavour to enlist on your side. An Irishman may be gained over by assailing the outworks of his heart, by stimulating his fancy, and applying a little "blarney" to his feelings;-a Scotchman may be captivated by making a sly approach to his head, by convincing his judgment and silencing the scruples of, what he is pleased to denominate, his conscience; but it is only through the medium of his stomach and corporeal tendencies, that a low Englishman is to be thoroughly and unresistingly mastered; and beef and ale will have more weight with him than all the arguments and other mental persuasives that were ever either spoken or penned since the Conquest. It is on this account entirely that we find the grey-headed agitator, Cobbett, who is intimately acquainted with the besetting peculiarities and infirmities of his countrymen, so zealous in his aspirations after their domestic comforts and viands, and, whilst he tells us that his own habits are most abstemious and self-denying, that we see him invariably recommending a free and unstinted indulgence to the poor. He knows well that maxims of prudence on such topics are likely to be treated with contempt, and their author represented and execrated as the churlish enemy of the poor; and that the right of faring sumptuously is perhaps the sole privilege of his citizenship, for which a genuine John Bull, of the subordinate ranks, would voluntarily hazard his existence. Nor is the second grade of the middle classes far elevated above the "profanum vulgus" in respect of intelligence and acquirements. Taken as a body, they possess all the narrow-mindedness and intellectual sluggishness of their inferiors. It is as individual exceptions alone that they vindicate their claims to a higher Our Yankee presses a little hard upon John Bull, but it is John's pride to ask nothing, save a clear stage and no favour. The defects animaverted upon by the Oxonian, are not, as he admits, fairly attributable to the English people. They spring, in common with a host of evils, from that unclean fountain of oligarchical influence, which is, we fervently trust, about to be sealed up for ever.-ED. E. M. position in the rank of mental and moral agents. This, however, we impute not so much to the natural tendencies of their disposition, which we firmly believe contains the elements of much shrewdness and enterprise, as to extrinsic reasons which have sadly thwarted its native impulses and genius, and prevented it from expanding itself in accordance with the liberal measure of its capacity. It may too often be said of the Englishman of this class, in the language of the world's great Dramatist, "he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animalonly sensible in the duller parts." The moderate landholder, the extensive farmer, the opulent tradesman and well-employed mechanic, are respectively in a state of ignorance of every thing apart from their peculiar calling and daily avocations, which would scarcely be credited in any circle beyond the limits of St. George's Channel or the Tweed. Their manners also are generally as clownish as their minds are uninformed: they delight in shewing a contempt for all those little courtesies and conventional graces that throw a brightening charm over the coarse realities of life, and their vices of outward bearing, therefore, become more repulsive and intolerable, from the naked deformity in which they are revealed, and ostentatiously forced upon a stranger's notice. Even their feeling of independence, which they are so fond of enlarging upon, is seldom ascertained to proceed from the causes that would render it amiable or praiseworthy it is in nine cases out of ten the mere ebullition of disappointed insolence or purse-pride. The best proof of this is the fact that there is no country in Europe where Aristocracy carries itself more high, and where its claims are more completely and unresistingly acknowledged. With the exception of the metropolis, in which its ill-directed power is chiefly confined to the ball-room and the club, it "rides rough-shod," to use a common expression, over all the remainder of the land. But seldom, indeed, is it presumed to question its infatuated dicta, or to attempt any opposition to the full current of its impertinencies. It draws a circle round itself quite as impervious to the uninitiated, as was the magic ring of the old enchanter to the fiends whom he invoked. It flourishes like a green bay-tree in every corner which can boast of such rough-hewn curiosities as a squire or a rector; and, in case of the nonresidence of these worthies, their attorney or curate reigns supreme in their stead. They are invested with despotic power, by the tacit consent of those around them, in every matter of opinion, be it practical or speculative, and however triflingly their Maker may have enabled them to appreciate its tendency; and they are encouraged, from acquiescence and prescription, to look down with the most entertaining-entertaining because eminently mock-heroic -magisterial contempt on the persons and attainments of all save a certain privileged few. If any insubordination, on the other hand, occurs under their district regime, it proceeds too often, not from that spirit of free-thought, which it is so delightful to see pervading the entire body of a people, but from some monied churl, whose pride is still more offensive than that of the individuals whom he envies, and seeks to discomfit; and who thinks himself entitled to disregard their assumed consequence, and to treat them with studied rudeness and insult, for no better or more refined reason than that "he could buy them all out if he liked." The main cause of these untoward things, as we have already had occasion to hint, is to be referred to the peculiarities in the English system of education, and to the niggard hand with which the schoolmaster has hitherto been encouraged and enabled to exert his influence over the nation. Before the period of the Reformation, the business of educating the people was conducted by the monks in their numerous monasteries and abbeys. When these splendid establishments were suppressed, the grammar schools which were attached to them had the misfortune to share the same fate, notwithstanding the strenuous remonstrances of Cranmer and other influential patrons of the "new learning," as the Protestant doctrines were then usually denominated. Though in some cases provision was made for the better instruction of the commons, the care of the legislature never extended itself, as in Scotland, over the nation at large. It was confined to a few favoured and far distant foundations, where the charity of individuals had endeavoured to remedy the culpable negligence of the state; and it was not until the last generation, that much attention was attracted to the subject, or any serious attempt made to bring the poor within its influence. "Only fifty years ago," as we are assured by Johnson, the biographer of Dr. Parr, "not many of the peasants of England were taught to read, and few to write." Even now, great as the exertions of the advocates of education have been, it is is still lamentably inadequate to supply the increasing demands upon its labours. Several parishes are in total want of any seminaries where it may be obtained; and the introduction of them into others has been discountenanced by certain clergy of the Establishment, because they happened to originate from the odious body of Dissenters,† or were placed under the direction of teachers who refused allegiance to the Pope of Lambeth. In these institutions, besides, nothing except the humblest order of reading and writing is taught; and their utility is therefore restricted to the exigencies and purposes of the lower orders. On the other hand, the expenses of the great schools and universities of England are so exorbitant, that it is quite impossible for the father of a family, if he be a man of moderate fortune, and under this denomination we should class all with an income below £1500 a-year,―to afford to more than one of his sons, at the utmost, the education which a gentleman ought to possess. In accomplishing even this, he will have to trench materially on his domestic comforts; and he will only attempt it, therefore, should he be fortunate enough to have some real or supposed influence in one or other of the learned professions. The rest of his children must be contented with a very inferior course of instruction, such as the cheap, and most frequently worthless, private seminaries of the land can supply. The sons, in addition to all, must be hurried away into a profession as quickly as their age and their faculties will At the recent trials in Berks under the Special Commission, of the 138 criminals whose names appeared on the calendar, only twenty-five could write, and only thirty-seven could read! It is well known," says the author of an excellent pamphlet, entitled A Letter to a Minister of State respecting Taxes on Knowledge,' lately privately printed and unfortunately not for sale," that the establishment of Lancasterian schools was opposed by the rich, and especially by the clergy; and that wherever it was found impossible wholly to suppress them, means the most disgraceful were used to prevent their increase; and these, it is lamentable to say, were but too often successful. The most effectual was the hypocritical pretence of a willingness to teach the people by the establishment of national schools. In many places, where a Lancasterían school was set up, a subscription for a national school was opened; and in places where the subscription was unequal to support two, and was yet divided between two, the Lancasterian school was generally ruined, and no school remained. In other places, no sooner was a subscription opened for a Lancasterian school, than another was commenced for a national school; and the consequence was, that money sufficient to establish a Lancasterian school was not collected, and no school of any sort was established. Lancasterian schools were, however, established in some large towns, and in these places, to prevent the dissenters wholly taking the teaching of the people into their own hands, national schools were established; and by means of the two, aided by the Sunday schools, and of the desire for information they excited, knowledge was imparted to a great number of persons; and the consequence, the inevitable consequence, the excellent and inestimable result was, that numbers, as they grew up, became examples to others, and gave the most perfect evidence of the good consequences resulting from even the small share of school learning they had received." permit, without having extended their knowledge,-if what they can alone have acquired may be dignified by the name,-beyond the mere elementary ground-work and A B C of the school. Their intellects, of course, soon become narrowed to the mechanical details of the business which may have been fixed upon by their relatives as the means of their future livelihood; all their thoughts and wishes are enthralled by its vulgar usages and jargon; and in the end, they glide naturally and willingly into similar limited notions and habits with those who have been their predecessors in the same money-getting career. A very small number indeed, differ in any respect from the earthy souls whom Shakspeare has described, as "hard-handed men which never laboured in their minds;" and thus, though, like so many Midases, every thing they touch may become gold, they want through life that true gentlemanly culture, and that noble devotion to the furtherance of the higher destinies and interests of their species, by which it behoves the rank their industry may have secured them, to be distinguished and adorned. It is to this description of men in particular, that we anticipate important benefits from the recently established colleges of London, which will bring the most valuable branches of knowledge within the immediate reach of individuals whose fortunes and opportunities are not ample enough to warrant a more expensive and extended search, and who, precluded from such conveniences, would have been deprived of every chance of developing their mental powers by the "foreign aid" of literary attainment. And even if these seminaries should not succeed in furnishing more than a tithe of their eléres with much scientific wisdom or deep erudition, they will at least implant the first seeds of what will tend to elevate the after character, and give the middle classes a tone and a refinement which they have never hitherto possessed. But while performing excellent service to social improvement in this way, they will, furthermore, exercise a most beneficial influence in affording a ground of emulation, and, by consequence, a salutary stimulus to the two "time honoured" and in many respects invaluable establishments of the country-the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge. We do not mean to question that whatever is really sought to be taught in these venerable institutions, is not communicated to the pupil with conscientious and skilful earnestness; nor do we purpose to contend, as some might perchance attempt to represent, that instruction in large foundations, such as those of which we speak, can be exactly graduated according to the various measures of capacity that may be subjected to its influence. But we do most certainly conceive that education should, in all cases, be adapted to the preparation of the young mind for the trying scenes of actual life, and to the peculiar demands upon his knowledge, which his probable position in society must necessarily require from the student. This, however, we, from personal observation, most confidently assert, the system pursued at Oxford-we do not speak of Cambridge, because we are indifferently acquainted with the details of the place-does under its present application and discipline by no means effect. What, for instance, would we think of the agriculturist who should persist, at the present day, in managing his fields according to the exploded husbandry practised in remote antiquity-using none but the clumsy implements described in the Georgicsand rejecting all the improvements which modern discovery has introduced, with petulant and arrogant contempt. And yet just similar is the scheme which the Oxford teachers pursue in the most interesting and important of all worldly cultivations-that of the intellect and future character and exertions of those who are designed most probably by fortune to wield the destinies of their country. Modern science and philosophy are alike banished from the schools of this great seminary, and no description of mental food is permitted to her nurslings, save the dry and indigestible bones of the ancients. The academic dignitaries seem to be firm believers in the primitive doctrine of Rosseau,-"que l'etat de reflexion est un état contre nature, et que l'homme qui medite est un animal dépravé,"- for Aristotle is fondled, while Bacon and Locke are neglected; and the most puerile phrases of Sophocles are treasured up with care, while the memory is seldom profaned with so much as the Gothic name of Shakspeare. The student accordingly feels disposed, at every step of his progress, to re-echo the exclamation which escaped from Socrates when passing through the shops of toys-"How many things are here which I do not need!" He observes with surprise, that poetry is not valued in the seat of learning for the richness and felicity of its language, or for the brilliant tints of fancy which it sheds over its creations, but that it is virtually rated as subordinate to the heavy labours of the annotator, and solely esteemed as it affords scope for the dull effusions of critical dogmatism. He sees his fellow-scholars, therefore, plodding their " weary way" along, like so many blind men groping about in the midst of sun-beams and flowers, utterly unconscious of the loveliness that every where surrounds them, inviting their admiration, and giving an almost irresistible key-note to their sympathies. He perceives that instead of reading history, to mark the conduct and the policy of the illustrious individuals whose achievements are therein rehearsed, and to observe the singular progress and acceleration of refinement and the arts; they peruse it merely that they may detect curious concords and peculiar idioms, and to load their jaded memories with barren facts and dates: and he observes, to his utter confusion, that whilst they would be grievously distressed at not being acquainted with the slightest incident in the chronicles of Athens or of Rome, they will profess ignorance of the most notorious events in recent annals, with the apathy of selfsatisfied and supercilious indifference; and that when the constitution and policy of their own country happen to be discussed in their presence, "the very hireling mute Bears not a face blanker of all emotion." "They are much disturbed," says an early English author, who paints with lively, yet correct severity, "to see a fold or a plait amiss in an old Roman gown, and still take no notice that their own are thread-bare, out at the elbows, and ragged; and suffer more if Priscian's head be broken than if it were their own. They are excellent guides, and can direct you to every alley and turning in old Rome; yet lose their way at home in their own parish. They are mighty admirers of the wit and eloquence of the ancients; yet had they lived in the time of Cicero and Cæsar, would have treated them with as much supercilious pride and disrespect, as they do now with reverence. They are great hunters of ancient manuscripts, and have in great veneration any thing that has escaped the teeth of time and rats, and if age have obliterated the characters, it is the more valuable for not being legible. But if by chance they can pick out one word, they rate it higher than the whole author in print, and would give more for one proverb of Solomon's under his own hand, than for all his wisdom. These superstitious and bigotted idolaters of time past, are children in their understanding all their lives; for they hang so heavily upon the leading-strings of authority, that their judgments, like the limbs of some Indian penitents, become altogether cramped and motionless for want of use." Let us not, however, be understood for an instant as attempting, in any respect, to depreciate the numerous charms and substantial merits of the masterspirits of the olden time; nor as little do we intend to deny, or even question, that the classics form an admirable foundation, on which to erect a perfect superstructure of knowledge. But we mean to assert broadly, that they become a positive nuisance when cultivated, as in Oxford, after a certain period of life, to the exclusion of every thing else bearing a later chronology. For we maintain that a man may be as well skilled in school metaphysics and distinctions, as either the redoubted "Prince of Subtleties," or the "Irrefragable Doctor;" |