not know but some advantages, after all, may flow from this worship of exclusive models of propriety and character, as they are termed, but I doubt whether they are sufficient to overbalance the disadvantages which result from their foregoing all the happy effects which would arise, were each man more disposed to cultivate the natural good of his own disposition and temper, and accept as his standard of imitation and implicit reverence, that model only, which the Father of the universe has been pleased to set before us in the volume of Revelation.

An imitation of this model, however close it may be, will never hurt any one, and will never check the natural developments of his mind, but will rather, on the contrary, draw them forth gently and temperately, till at length they shall stand displayed in all their natural freshness and beauty.

"Take the standard of Boston character for your model of imitation, and your developments of mind will be incomplete: take that of Philadelphia, and it will be equally so; assume that of Paris, and the same thing will happen. In all such cases there is manifested, generally speaking, only one aspect of character; the others are kept in abeyance, like the title to an estate, which the proprietors dare hardly claim. Nay, the same exclusiveness of character will arise, if you even follow the pattern of any nation. Exclusion is written upon all of them without exception. But man is not born to imitate a merely finite model. The talent of imitation I take to be the most remarkable in his nature; but to answer the demands of it, there is a standard always presented in the Divine Revelation, and when the mind turns to this, it is liberated from social restraints and prejudices. It expands itself in joyousness and freedom. It disregards all partial standards, it yields them neither allegiance nor respect, it owns but one master-Him in the heavens, in whom dwells bodily the fulness of the Divinity. It views the varieties of mankind as connected and dependent parts of one family, to be esteemed and loved, rather than reverenced or implicitly obeyed.

'But you will ask, what all this has to do with schools? Much every way. The whole world is a school, and all men are, in turns, either teachers or learners, or both; the period of our term in this school, is that of natural life. I wished merely, from noticing those errors in the management of the grand school of life, to guard against similar ones in our mimic schools,-Ludi, as the Romans very significantly called them, plays representing the serious business and concerns of human life. Now, if in this grand school of general society, we see men constantly aiming to make their own standards of universal imitation; and if we see that the results of this are detrimental in a high degree, producing a dull, languid monotony in society, depriving it of the zest of natural and cheerful varieties, and modelling every face and mind after one tiresome, insipid pattern, begetting a bigoted attachment to that pattern, and a rooted aversion to all others; if the masters of the world's grand school play such fantastic tricks before high Heaven,-let not us, who are schoolmasters, seek to imitate them; let us not seek the gratification of seeing our own image impressed on the tender and yielding minds around us, but rather let us examine what is the outline

of the image already impressed there, and let us bring out that; let it be produced in all its native contour and colouring; and let it be adorned and set off, not with foreign or exclusive ornaments, but with the universal graces and gifts which are the benefits of science, of literature, of morality. Thus, gentlemen, the likeness of the Creator will gradually rise up, in interesting relief, in that new mind; and he, the pupil, will have a character of his own, not yours or any one's, and he will be a new mirror on earth, to reflect on the delighted eyes of mortals some of the hitherto unrevealed glories of the Eternal.

66

66

What is the reason that real genius is so rare? What but this intermeddling of ours with the fair handiwork of the Creator? We are ever for doing, to the minds of children, what some savages do to their heads, pressing them into some fantastic shapes of fashion—or making our own heads the pattern according to which all others are to be moulded. But, perhaps, in the midst of all this discussion, I deal too much in general and abstract expressions, and do not descend enough to particulars. To illustrate, then :-Suppose a teacher to be naturally of an ardent and eager temper, impatient of counsel, but indefatigable in working, who delights to begin rather in the middle of a thing than at the beginning of it, and on Saturday rather than Monday; in short, who is all hurry and execution, but no deliberation, no plan; in fact, one who belongs to that natural and extensive brotherhood of men who are made for action rather than deliberation, and who no sooner hear of a new enterprise than they burn to be in the midst of it-have already anticipated it in their dreams, and are as eager to be at it, and in it, as a hound for the chase; imagine, I say, a teacher of this character-it is not an uncommon nor a useless one-shall this teacher try to make all his boys like himself? If he does, he will run against several natural varieties of youths, on whom his own impetuosity will work no salutary effects. He may start them, and get them on a little way, at his own hurried and impatient pace; at last, however, they will become refractory-they will not be driven in this way, and at this ratethey cannot think themselves made for it, and, in truth, the little fellows are partly right, they are not made for it, their inclinations dispose them otherwise, at least to go at a slower pace. Here, then, our honest teacher is at his wit's end: what shall he do with them? He will pronounce them good for nothing. Such, I know, will be his first sentiment, unless he has learned to philosophise, and to judge wisely on human nature. If he has, he will have understood his own character, and have perceived, in the first place, the natural class to which it belongs. In the second place, he will have classified the characters of his pupils; and knowing these, he will endeavour, as little as possible, to run counter to them. For example, in the case I have cited, he will perceive that a boy of the description alluded to, does not belong to the same natural class as himself-eager, and made for rapid action—but to that quiet and deliberate species of character that win their way by yielding to the tide, or dexterously avoiding it, and keeping in the eddying water along the banks. This class think a great deal before they move a step; they are no way excited by the boundless prospect of enterprise before them-they wonder and stare at you when you talk

of it; the very magnificence of the road that lies before them, and the beauty and sublimity of the scenery attending it, rather overpower their minds (imaginations rather) than arouse them. They do not know what plan can be devised to accomplish such objects, and without a plan they will not work. They have also a strong desire to know what good is to come of all this; of what use it is; and as these sagacious youngsters have imbibed the same idea of use which their elders have, to wit, that it is money, our enthusiastic teacher finds some difficulty in making them comprehend what use they really will reap from all that labour and study which he so earnestly presses upon them. In consequence of all these depressing considerations, our fervent teacher finds it rather difficult to regard these little fellows as human beings. Considering the very material of humanity to be that eagerness, vivacity, and deep feeling, with which his own mind is replete, he can scarcely think of any thing different from this as belonging to it, till philosophy has opened his eyes, and he sees, in this description of youths, the germs of that prudence which, when matured and enlightened, often proves of incalculable benefit to mankind. He sees that human life would be kept in a state of constant fever but for the existence of such cool characters, and that, destitute of plan, end, or reasonable prospect of advantage, the whole of society would exhibit nothing but an endless series of acts, frantic, wild, and unprofitable. Convinced of this, our teacher now becomes a philosopher; will set about earnestly instructing minds of that stamp I have alluded to, and, so far from seeking to obliterate it, or press a new seal upon it, he will endeavour to render its own designation and natural tendency brighter and more bright, stronger and more strong. In this way he will also discover new qualities of goodness or greatness in this class of youths, which his own individual character, and admiration of it, prevented his taking notice of before. Thus, the teacher will also enlarge his own mind, while he endeavours to draw forth the appropriate qualities of others.

"I have taken the example of a fervent and eager teacher, and shown the error into which he is likely to fall, from the want of an enlightened knowledge of character.

"We might suppose a teacher of a different character,—one of the cool, calm, and patient kind, mightily given to planning, and concocting systems of teaching, strangely enamoured of method, order, and arrangement. He cannot march forward till he has first cleared the way; he digs up every stump, and picks up every straw in his destined hippodrome of intellectual exertion. He is a useful man, and valuable in society, and also an excellent teacher; but unless he understands his own character, and sees the characters of others, he will be liable to make egregious mistakes in teaching. His method, however, without correction from philosophy, will suit admirably a great many youthsthose who approximate to his own genius; but the fiery and impatient will droop under the discipline. But if this teacher knows himself, and reflects, he will see a class of characters different from his own, and will accommodate and bend his system to them. For example, in teaching geometry to such youths, he will not keep them lingering a month or two defining triangles, circles, and so forth, and endeavouring to make

them understand the very learned definition of a point, to wit, that it is that which has position but not magnitude (a vile conceit, by-the-by). Still there are some minds that could be very much amused and perhaps edified by this mysterious speculation, but not the class of youths I have in my mind; they spurn at such subtilties, and leave them to the prudent and deliberate; they are eager to seize at once the very body of geometry their genius in medias rapit res—hurries them on to the very citadel of science, then, having taken it, they may take the suburbs afterwards. I say, then, that this supposed cool and prudent teacher, seeing the character of such youths, allows them to press on to the prize of the high calling of genius. They proceed, and their character is developed; and they shine forth in the strong and brilliant light of their own minds. Their great fault is, that they are generally destitute of accuracy, but this is almost inseparable from their nature in its first race; they want to see the whole domain of science or of literature before them; they cannot consent to be always weeding among the flowers in the flat valley beneath; they must climb the hill, though the weeds in the meantime grow apace; they leave behind them good land uncultivated; they must have a prospect of the whole, they must delight their eyes with an occasional view of the vast and wide-spreading domains of human knowledge; and you must yield so far to their inclinations, or you damp their nature; and by a constant demand of accuracy, you do not render them much more accurate (for they are by nature unfitted for minute accuracy), and you confine and manacle that restless wandering of a vigorous mind, that is destined, like the eagle, to bring its quarry from afar, and explore those tracts where human footsteps have seldom or never been. Gentlemen, a cool and prudent teacher, unless he be a wise and good man, is very apt to stunt the growth of such a mind as this. But if he fosters with due care every variety of mind, in that case, youths may start on the career of manhood with the same forms of character, the same fashions and contours of mental organization, with which they were first ushered by their Maker into life.

"A man dare hardly lift up his arm to his head, without the danger of violating some prescribed rule of grace, or running in the face of all the sanctities of an artificially polite behaviour. Gentlemen, there is no tyranny so oppressive as that of a fantastical public opinion. I am aware, indeed, that public opinion is a most excellent check on bad men, who are more curbed by it than by the restraints of conscience; but still so far as it goes to crush those native characters of men, (and it does crush the essence of the character itself, when it thus circumscribes the expression of it, in the spontaneous forms of words, gestures, and acts;) when it does this, it exercises a most unwholesome restraint; it attempts to bind what God intended should be loose, and to set artificial limits to the lovely play of genius, and of fancy.

666

Ad modum sunt tenendo,' says Cicero, and I wonder, so admirable is the sentiment, that the passage has not been quoted a thousand times, for certainly it is a great deal more valuable than the common coin of this sort which is passing. I will give the whole passage in English. He says, Every individual should retain very strongly that which is

peculiarly his own; I do not mean his faults, but the appropriate qualities of his nature, in order that he may the better exhibit that gracefulness of mind of which I speak. A man must so conduct himself, that he act nothing against the universal laws of human nature; but with a proper regard to these, he should at the same time follow the unbidden leadings of his own character; so that if he should ever behold gifts and endowments of far more dignity and worth in others than in himself, nevertheless, let him regulate his own pursuits by the measure of his own nature, for it is of no benefit to fight against nature and to follow that which we can never reach. Hence, he adds, we can better comprehend what grace is, (he is speaking on that subject,) for nothing can be graceful which is done without the consent of Minerva, that is in opposition, or in contradiction to the laws of nature.

66

The justness of this sentiment of Cicero is unquestionable; it is only to be regretted, that although written nineteen centuries since, it should be so little thought of, or that we should be willing to have those shackles imposed upon us by custom, which are repugnant to all free expression of our character; for observe, that when the character is not free to express itself it is not free to grow; and why should not every character be free to express itself, I mean to expand itself, to set itself publicly forth without ridicule, when it in no respect violates the universal decorums of human nature? I say, that the character cannot grow without expression, any more than a tree can grow in winter; vitality is in the tree all the time, but there is no budding, no expansion, because of the cold; and neither in this chilling atmosphere of artificial manners can any genuine and true character be in freedom to develop itself fully.

"But it shall not be so during the period of boyhood, at least, if we schoolmasters can prevent it; they shall be free to grow and expand into every variety of good, and be restrained only from luxuriating into evil. This is our province :-the golden age of the human race is now no where to be found but in schools; here reign alone the ancient Saturnalia ; here alone the growth should be unbidden and spontaneous; here every plant in the garden of God should be permitted to grow as it is most minded; it is our duty merely to keep it from weeds. All soon enough, all too soon will the artificial twist be given to the mental ramifications of these interesting boys; their blossoms and flowers will be steeped in other fragrance than their own; and their foliage will exhibit other colours than are now natural to them, and become them so well. The stale odours of artificial life will breathe forth around them, and they will put on the vulgar tints and dyes of artificial society. I believe I am stating matters of known fact. We never properly are ourselves in this age of the world, but when children. It was different among the Greeks and Romans; and hence the infantile character of their literature. But wewe are put in straight waistcoats and stays almost as soon as we enter our teens, and we never get out of them till we reach our dotage; then mankind consent that we shall become children again; in fact, old men and children are almost the only persons who enjoy real moral liberty in the present age.

But perhaps I run on too far. I am only anxious that it should be