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not Venby, like our evil genius, followed us. To our utter dismay he chose the same house, and now having no one to controul him but Claridge, who generally spent his evenings at other houses, his cruelties were redoubled, and at length became the subject of conversation throughout the school. Had we complained to Dr. Butler, or officially to the surgeon, we should perhaps have obtained some alleviation of our sufferings; but it was considered infamous to carry tales to a tutor, and I bore my share of misery in desperate silence, with the full determination of quitting the school for ever at the first vacation. Dr. Butler was, I believe, informed of the cause of our not returning again, and took an early opportunity of expelling our tormentor, at least so I understood from the three sons of Sir William Ms, who were at Harrow with ourselves, and whom I accidentally met in Hertfordshire on their return to Harrow in the following year.

Although we are commanded to forgive our enemies, and I would not intentionally do Venby an injury, yet I never reflect on his barbarities without feelings of horror and indignation, feelings excited by a conviction that his cruelties arose not from the heedlessness of youth, but from a heart innately wicked-from a disposition void of common humanity. This "honourable" despot, the eldest son of a peer, became subsequently a member of parliament, and, as another instance of his dishonourable and unfeeling conduct, I may add that a lady obtained, a few years since, a verdict against him of £5000 for a breach of promise of marriage under aggravated circumstances, he having, I think, married another lady of large fortune so true it is, that all "honourables" are not honourable. That such a man, by the corrupt influence of an overgrown aristocracy, should legislate for millions of his fellow-citizens, was surely an anomaly in a constitution extolled for its perfections, and a disgrace to a people, who boasted of their justice and freedom. But, thank Heaven, reform has since grappled successfully with the Hydra.

The first of poets, Lord Byron, visited his former school-fellows several times during my stay at Harrow, and, as well as I now recollect, he had a most expressive countenance with fine features, and a beautiful head of dark hair; but his figure was rather stout and clumsy, and he was lame. He made Sir John Claridge a present of a superb edition of the Arabian Nights, elegantly bound, and once gave Bridgman, a son of Lord Bradford, a guinea for going a short distance with a message. He then pronounced his name, and was always called Byron, not Byron as it is now pronounced, and as the name in French is Biron, the y short is correct.

The Duke of Dorset, Earl Delawar, Lords Valletort and Wallingford, and "Honourables" innumerable, were scholars at Harrow in those days. The duke was a mild, unassuming young man, of a prepossessing, but rather effeminate presence. He was unfortunately killed by a fall from his horse, while hunting in Ireland, and the premature fate of this

promising and amiable young nobleman affords another sad instance how often talent and virtue, rank and fortune, are consigned to an early grave. His constant companion was Dawson, since under secretary of state for the home department, a fine determined fellow, and considered the "cock" of the school. Young Spencer Perceval, the eldest son of the Premier, and the present Colonel d'Este, son of the Duke of Sussex, and Lady Augusta Murray, were also at Harrow-the former was thought clever and promising—the latter was considered very like his grandfather, George the Third, and was nick-named full moon," because he had a full face; but he was a well grown, athletic lad. His father once came to Harrow to hear the public speeches, and entered the room while one of the fellows was reciting. Young as I was, I remember being much struck with the genuine good breeding of Dr. Butler, who merely bowed to the Duke on his entry, and did not move from his chair to pay his respects to royalty, until the young commoner had finished his speech. How many men would have acted differently!

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Another of my school-fellows was Brownlow Charles Colyear, who, had he lived, would have been Earl of Portmore. He inherited the immense personal property of his maternal grandfather, the Duke of Ancaster, and died in 1819, at Rome, of wounds inflicted by banditti. At least so says Debrett's Peerage; while, in Dr. Parr's Memoirs, it is stated, that Colyear was beaten and plundered by bandits, but that he died of a fever at Rome. He was also a mild, unassuming youth, and being in the same form, and sitting together, we were rather on intimate terms. It is a singular coincidence that three young Harrovians of the highest rank and fortune, acquired and prospective, should have died so prematurely-the Duke of Dorset, Colyear, and Lord Valletort, son of the Earl of Mount Edgecumbe, who also died young, owing to some accident.

Of the system of education pursued at Harrow, and I believe it is similar to that in other public schools, I cannot speak in terms of sufficient dislike and reprobation. Every really useful study is neglected for Latin and Greek, of which most boys obtain but a very superficial knowledge, and speedily forget what they have spent years in acquiring. Some acquaintance with the former is highly requisite for every gentleman, but it should be blended with, or made subservient to, the acquisition of our own, and any other modern language, mathematics, &c.; for surely nothing can be more ill-judged and preposterous than to teaze and cram a boy with Greek, who is not intended for a learned profession. It appears to me, however, that the time devoted either to Hebrew or Greek might be much more usefully applied. The result of this irksome drudgery is to make one boy out of fifty what is termed a good scholar, and to turn out the remainder as ignorant of, and as disgusted with, the classics, as can well be imagined. I never wrote a copy or cyphered once during the whole of my stay at Harrow. I could not digest Latin verses,

Away then with

because I composed without understanding them, and the very sight of an exercise in Greek threw me into a fever. Cæsar's Commentaries and Virgil's Georgics were the only Latin works I liked. Where we should find sterling information of every kind, how often do we not meet with the mere tinsel of learning, caused by the wretched mode of instruction so prevalent even in this comparatively enlightened age! Thousands educated at an expensive public school and university, are at this day sadly deficient in the first rudiments of their native tongue, and can scarcely construct a single sentence without exposing their deficiencies. Better is it not to translate Homer and Virgil, than not to learn a mother tongue with grammatical propriety. How seldom do we hear of an English gentleman, who can speak even Latin with any fluency, although the best years of his youth were spent in studying it. this system, and let not antiquity and prejudice prevail over reform and improvement. Surely we possess all the wisdom of our ancestors with much more experience, and should now feel ashamed to pursue the long beaten track of defective education. If we follow this track much longer, the higher classes will be surpassed by the lower in every useful acquirement, and title or ancestry will cease to cloak ignorance, or to serve as a shelter from deserved contempt. Distinguished science or literary eminence is within the reach of very few, but every boy of common capacity learn that which a respectable member of genteel society is expected to know. Indeed I am confident, from what I witnessed and experienced at Harrow, that the young man, who leaves a public school with superior acquirements, must possess extraordinary advantages, or be a self-taught genius.

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On the other hand, public schools certainly possess advantages which, in the eyes of some, will go far towards counter-balancing their defects. A public school will probably give a boy a more resolute and independent character-make him more alive to insult-more sensitive of his honour, than one brought up in a private school, in too many of which, I believe, acts of vulgarity and meanness prevail. But again, boys acquire a habit of swearing in public schools, of which in after life they find it very difficult to divest themselves-such, I regret to say, is the case with myself in moments of irritation. In my time, swearing was so prevalent that at every sentence it was "I'll be d-d, or double d-d," and as it may be supposed, religion was in no great request among us. We were dragged to church twice on the sabbath, and while there, attended to any thing but the service. Indeed I heard of some " fellows" having amused themselves, a short time previously to my going to Harrow, with dazzling the vicar's eyes with the reflection of the sun from a small mirror, and I am convinced that, if we had not been strictly watched by the masters, many of us would have followed the example. As long as the master did not see the culprit, he was safe, because the surrounding "fellows" would

rather have been cut to pieces, than informed against him. In short, a man of the world may send his son to a public school, but a religious one should never. Although I may safely say that I learnt nothing at Harrow except to swear, box, and play at cricket, foot-ball, &c., probably the fault was as much mine as the school's. The annoyance of Greek disgusted me with the classics generally. My great delight was, even at twelve years of age, to get hold of a newspaper, and to read the gazettes, debates in parliament, &c. Sir Francis Burdett's speeches pleased me above all, because they advocated the rights of the people and the cause of freedom. Indeed, to an early love of reading, and to a private tutor, a clergyman in Warwickshire, under whom I was placed after I left Harrow, I owe the very little that I do know. He very judiciously directed my attention to Latin authors and to English literature. Here I felt at home, having access to an excellent library, and knowing that I was learning what was really of service to me.

ON DISTINCTION OF RANKS IN SOCIETY.

THE most inveterate enemy to the progress of truth is prejudice, founded on custom, and fortified by authority. In politics, in religion, in laws, in the habits and usages of private life, mankind are ever prone to imitation; and the ingenious sophist, who quotes a precedent, and from it draws a specious inference, is almost sure to triumph over reason and common sense. Fontenelle used to say that, if he had his hand full of truths, he would only allow one to escape at a time. There was sound judgment in this remark of the French philosopher, for, as the ground is always preoccupied by prejudice and error, of what utility is it to force truth upon mankind, unless the more obvious impediments to its reception are previously removed? As a strong and vivid glare of light, bursting suddenly on the eyes, compels a man to close them, and leaves him for some moments nearly blind, so does the hasty and injudicious publication of truth startle and confuse the understanding; and optical vision and mental discernment are both involved in temporary darkness by the very attempt at dispelling obscurity.

The first step to knowledge and the formation of sound opinion is doubt, by which we understand a reluctance to believe any proposition, without a careful examination of the evidence on which it rests. How many erroneous doctrines have deluded the world, which had nothing else to recommend them but the authority of some popular name, some legendary tradition, or some wild flight of an ardent imagination! Thus, the dogmas of Aristotle reigned triumphantly for a thousand years, among which was a justification of slavery, and the prohibition of interest on

money. Thus, for ages, did superstition flourish, with necromancy, witchcraft, and every species of divination. Thus, during a long period, did the alchemists rule the hopes and fears of credulity, in vain researches after the elixir of life and the philosopher's stone. Thus, also, did the Ptolemaic system of astronomy prevail against that of Copernicus. Thus, for centuries, did kings claim to rule by divine right, and nobles to trample on plebeians with impunity. Now, had all these absurdities never been doubted, they would have continued in force to this day, and we never should have heard of such men as Luther, or Locke, or Newton, or Davey, or Bentham. It is in this sense, then, that we desire to be understood when we say, that the first step to knowledge is doubt.

Among the numerous bugbears which education is now sweeping away, like cobwebs from a mouldering wall, is the old fallacy on the distinction of ranks in society. Liberal philosophers have never advocated any system of perfect equality, though it is true that this most monstrous absurdity has been imputed to them; but the accusation proceeds from enemies who have attempted to blacken, with ridicule, doctrines impregnable against fair argument. Every one is sensible that, if all were equal this day, they would not be so to-morrow, for no legislative enactment can alter human nature. By our common constitution, there will ever be marked differences in talent, industry, strength, and perseverance, and these inequalities must produce dissimilar results in the relations which one man bears to another. The liberal philosopher, therefore, admits that there must always be some distinctions of rank in society, and willingly adopts the motto "Palmam qui meruit, ferat" ("Let him bear the palm who has deserved it"); but the question is, who does deserve it? The men of title, blood, and wealth, say the lickspittles; the men of labour and industry, say we.

Titles of honour, when strictly personal, and not transmissible from father to son, may perhaps be tolerated; but they are such as no truly great man would desire to possess. We just as much venerate the memory of plain George Washington, as we should that of George Washington, Duke of New York, Marquess of Boston, Earl of Philadelphia, Baron of New Orleans. It should also be considered that the power of conferring a title rests with one man, the sovereign, who may be, and in the vast majority of cases really is, the most worthless of the community; for, although the legal fiction declares him to be the "fountain of honour," the experience of history has stamped the opposite character on the great majority of kings. But still less are titular distinctions proofs of superiority when they are hereditary; for a Borgia might be the descendant of a Cato, or a Mævius of a Virgil.

To claim an ascendancy over our fellow-creatures on the score of blood, is too whimsical a pretension to admit of any serious argument, and it may be at once dismissed from consideration, till those who insist on the

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