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a punishment, or a lad of spirit to submit to it, is one of the things that could not have been believed, if they had not actually taken place. This mode of punishment has long disgraced the statute-books of the great schools of England, otherwise so respectable, and there is reason to fear, that the law is not yet a dead letter. We shall rejoice, however, to hear, that our apprehensions are groundless, and that we ought to have spoken in the past tense.

We think it may be easy to prove, not only from the general principles of our nature, but also from experience, that the practice in all its forms is not only degrading, but inefficient. What are we to think of the happiness of that man who spends six or seven hours a-day for eleven months in the year, fretting, and storming, and whipping; or of the soundness of his principles, who is so little skilled in human nature as to expect equally to reform the vicious and to excite the good to exertion, by the infliction of torture,-who punishes a moral delinquency and the slightest neglect in the preparation or repetition of a task in the same manner? Is a momentary thoughtlessness to be classed, in moral turpitude and in punishment, with falsehood, or treachery, or dishonesty, or cruelty, or hardness of heart? for, if the one is visited with the most severe punishment that can be inflicted on à boy, what is left for the others, which indicate a fundamental baseness of character? This is to confound all our ideas of the nature of actions and of justice.

But the frequent and intemperate use of the lash is not only a source of misery to him who employs it, but it is a lowering of his dignity and a confession of weakness. It is begun in imbecility, and almost universally ends in the loss of authority. Like the gallows, it seems to aggravate the evil which it intends to correct, and disorders increase in exact proportion to its employment, till the master, who ought to be the object of the love and the veneration of his scholars, deservedly incurs universal and unmingled hatred and contempt. Honest Old Evelyn informs us, in his Memoirs, that he received from his schoolmaster fourscore stripes for small fault or none. We must remember that this is not the complaint of a

truant as yet smarting from the consequences of his idleness and folly; nor does it proceed from the overweening affections of a mother enraged at the chastisement of a son spoiled by her own false indulgences, but of a grave, respectable, dispassionate man, coolly relating a fact long after the event. The times have not long gone by when it was no uncommon thing to see a schoolmaster inflict two hundred stripes in one forenoon, often for small fault, or what any where else would have been considered none. Was it surprising, at the conclusion of such a scene, to hear boys whisper to each other, "He likes it ?" These emphatic words, we know, were often repeated, and what horrors do they not imply! But woe be to the man who indulges in such practices, for, as the young are kind, and generous, and forgiving, so are they, when justly provoked, ingenious in the art of tormenting, and will find a thousand ways of making reprisals, and rendering the life of the tyrant as unhappy as possible.

Within our own time, it was no uncommon thing for a master, even of the first respectability, when the majority of a class had neglected a task, or were otherwise faulty, to begin at the head of it, and whip downwards, till he was no longer able to proceed from sheer fatigue, while the lower boys chuckled over his discomfiture and their own escape. We have heard of one gentleman who was a flogger by anticipation, and every Monday morning made it a matter of conscience to whip his whole school; for he averred that it was impossible to keep the dogs in order for the week without it. It is with feelings of no common satisfaction that we have observed a great reformation in our Scottish schools for the last twelve or fourteen years, from the majority of which we believe that the rod is either banished or hangs almost idly on the wall; yet we have not heard that they are falling off either in learning or good order. We are convinced," indeed, that the reverse is the case.

Notwithstanding the opinion of certain politicians, we do not think it necessary for the man who exposes the abuses of one system to substitute another in its place; yet, if the foregoing statements be accurate, almost any change must be an improvement.

Instead, then, of offering any theory of our own, which might be faulty and defective from our inexperience, we shall simply state some of the improved practices which we understand at present prevail in the most respectable of our seminaries The great object in the discipline of a school is, to resist the beginnings of evil, and, if punishment must be inflicted, to employ such as shall be prompt and undeviating in its operation, yet remote from all kinds of cruelty. It is not the severity of chastisement, but the certainty of it, and the shame that should always accompany it, that deters from the commission of crimes. This may be laid down as an axiom; and we must likewise remember, that the faults that require to be checked in a school are generally of such a nature as would hardly come under that denomination any where else. For instance, it is, morally speaking, an offence of no very deep die for a boy to whisper to his neighbour during school hours; yet it must be suppressed, for silence is absolutely necessary towards the important business of education being conducted with any degree of comfort to the teacher or advantage to the scholar. But, to correct an error of this nature, which seldom or never proceeds from malice, it is not surely necessary to proceed to the infliction of the torture, and to subject the unfortunate delinquent to severe bodily pain, and thus to confound all his ideas of justice. In seminaries into which liberal practices have been introduced, we understand that the only punishment inflicted for such offences as restlessness, or noise, or neglect of tasks, is the loss of station, which is found to be quite effectual. In the case of obstinate and continued idleness, a solemn, yet a kindly admonition, or, as a last resource, solitary confinement, or a full disclosure of the offender's conduct to his parents, seldom fail. The joyful voices of his companions at play, while he sits in durance, and in solitary tears, will work a reformation on the most hardened if any thing will, and he will soon begin to find that even the balance of amusement is against him. The most cruel part of the punishinent is, that in his confinement he obtains no sympathy, but is rather the object of ridicule, while the boy who can suffer the greatest number of

blows without shrinking is the hero of the school, and will be amply remunerated for the pain he may have suffered by the honours and caresses which he will receive from his fellows. This is ruinous of all discipline.

It is of great consequence that the master should have the school on his side in all the punishments which he inflicts, and in all the reprimands which he deems it necessary to give, and that every means should be taken to make the culprit himself sensible of the justice of both. The maxiin, that the only safe foundation of the authority of rulers is in the opinion of the governed, holds no where in a fuller extent than in schools. It is impossible that the master should succeed in his aim, unless the scholar is convinced that he has no object in view but his good, and, averse as many boys are to study, that impression may be made on the mind of the most inconsiderate by a skilful and an affectionate mode of reasoning. Frequent well-timed and kindly appeals to a boy's generosity and ambition, will generally prevail, and if they should fail, he may be given up as hopeless. It ought, likewise, to be carefully inculcated, that no offence can be committed against the master, but that every delinquency which it is necessary to punish is destructive of that discipline which the offender himself is as much interested in upholding as any other, for without it no improvement whatever can be made in any useful acquirement. It has been falsely concluded, that boys, from the immaturity of their understanding, are not fit subjects of reasoning, and that they must be kept in order by mere force. This is a fatal error. The infant man reasons on all he sees, and hears, and feels, and if he cannot be made to distinguish truth from error, it is from want of skill in the reasoner, rather than from any deficiency of penetration and acuteness in himself.

Boyhood is, besides, the age of kindness and generosity, and unsuspecting openness of heart, and these can seldomn be appealed to in vain; and the tears of the delinquent are, in general, unquestionable testimony of his penitence, and of his purposes of amendment. Even its vices are tinged with a spirit of adventure, and a defiance of danger, and a fearlessness of

consequences, that may make us hesitate whether we should not rather denominate them embryo virtues. But we spoil the beautiful handiwork of nature, and then we complain of her defects. Instead of cherishing and fostering the gentler and the nobler qualities of the mind, we do all that in us lies to eradicate them, and to implant in their place the seeds of the bad passions; for it is quite certain that the indiscriminate and severe application of corporal punishment for all offences, without much regard to the degree or quality of their demerit, confounds in the young mind all its ideas of justice; and for love, and friendship, and generosity, and truth, and sincerity, it is calculated to engender hatred, and animosities, and selfishness, and falsehood, and duplicity. It makes even the excellence of a boy the virtue of a slave, and prepares him in manhood, in his turn, to act the tyrant. We are far from saying that every boy that has been bred where terror is the sole incitement to duty, is so far degraded, but we insist that such is its tendency. Boyhood is, besides, a sweet and a short hour of sunshine before a day of clouds and storms, and it is cruel, we had almost said unjust, to overshadow it before the time. It is a brief excursion of pleasure before man sets out on a long and dreary pilgrim age of care, and suffering, and sorrow, and it is inhuman to interrupt its innocent joys, and the delightful flow of its gay spirits, by unnecessary severities. But, if corporal punishment is not only an infliction of needless pain, and quenches the happiness, and checks the growth of the virtues peculiar to youth, but degrades the master, and renders him odious and miserable, and is inefficient in accomplishing the purposes of discipline, confirming rather than correcting habits of insubordination and idleness, and is more likely to foster the growth of the vicious than of the virtuous propensities, it is certainly time that it were totally abolished, having too long disgraced those places that should be the inviolable sanctuaries of moral culture, and useful knowledge.

These desultory remarks are rather intended to introduce the subject to the notice of our readers, than to discuss it. Hereafter we may enter in to it more fully, and with better preparation.

HISTORICAL

ILLUSTRATIONS

SHAKESPEARE.

MR EDITOR,

OF

I DARE say you will agree with me in thinking, that whatever throws light on the dramatic productions of Shakespeare, deserves to be made known to the public. I have already, in the volume called Characters of Shakespeare's Plays, shewn, by a reference to the passages in North's translation of Plutarch, his obligations to the historian in his Coriolanus, and the noble way in which he availed himself of the lights of antiquity in composing that piece. I shall, with your permission, pursue this subject in the present and some future articles. The parallel is even more striking between the celebrated. trial-scene in Henry VIII., and the following narrative of that event, as it actually took place, which is to be found in Cavendish's Negociations of Cardinal Wolsey, &c.

"The court being thus ordered, the judges commanded the crier to proclaim silence, whilst the commission was both read to the court and to the people there assembled: That done, and silence being again proclaimed, the scribes commanded the crier to call King Henry of England; whereunto the king answered and said, Here; then called he again the Queen of England, by the naine of Catherine, Queen of England, come into the court, &c. Who made no answer thereunto, but rose immediately out of the chair where she sat; and because she could not come to the king directly, by reason of the distance, therefore she came round about the court to the king, and kneeled down at his feet, saying these words in broken English, as followeth:

"Sir,' quoth she, I beseech you to do me justice and right, and take some pity on me, for I am a poor woman and a stranger, born out of your dominions, having here no indifferent council, and less assurance of friendship. Alas! Sir, how have I offended you? what offence have I given you, intending to abridge me of life in this sort? I take God to witness I have been to you a true and loyal wife, ever conformable to your will and pleasure; never did I contrary or gainsay your mind, but always submitted myself in all things, wherein you had any delight or dalliance, whe

ther it were little or much, without grudging or any sign of discontent. I have loved for your sake all men whom you have loved, whether I had cause or not, were they friends or foes! I have been your wife these twenty years, by whom you had many children: And, when I first came to your bed, I take God to witness I was a virgin; whether it were true or no, I put it to your conscience. If there can be any cause that you can allege, either of dishonesty or of any other matter, lawful to put me from you, I am willing to depart with shame and rebuke, but if there be none, then I pray you let me have justice at your hands.

"The king your father was a man of such excellent wit in his time, that he was accounted a second Solomon; and the King of Spain, my father Ferdinand, was taken for one of the wisest kings that reigned in Spain these many years. So they were both wise men and noble princes, and it is no question but they had wise counsellors of either realm, as be now at this day, who thought not, at the marriage of you and me, to hear what new devices are now invented against me, to cause me to stand to the order of this court. And I conceive you do me much wrong, nay, you condemn me for not answering, having no council but such as you have assigned me, you must consider that they cannot be indifferent on my part, being your own subjects, and such as you have made choice of out of your own council whereunto they are privy, and dare not disclose your pleasure.

"Therefore, I must humbly beseech you to spare me, until I know how my friends in Spain will advise me; but if you will not, then let your pleasure be done."

"And with that she arose, making a courtesy to the king, and departed from thence, all the people thinking she would have returned again to her former seat; but she went presently out of court, leaning upon the arm of one of her servants, who was her general receiver, one Mr Griffith.

"The king, seeing that she was ready to go out of the court, commanded the crier to call her again by these words, Catherine, Queen of England, come into court. Lo, quoth Mr Griffith, you are called again. Go on, quoth she, it is no matter; it is no in

different court for me, therefore I will not tarry; go on your way; and so they departed, without any further answer at that time, or any appearance in any other court after that.

"The king, seeing she was departed thus, and considering her words, said to the audience these few words in effect:

"Forasmuch,' quoth he, 'as the queen is gone, I will in her absence declare unto you all ;-she hath been unto me a true obedient wife, and as comfortable as I could wish or desire; she hath all the virtues and good qualities that belong to a woman of her dignity, or in any of meaner estate; her conditions will well declare the

same.

"Then,' quoth the cardinal, I humbly beseech your highness to declare unto this audience, whether I have been the first and chief mover of this matter unto your highness, or no; for I am much suspected of all

men.

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"My lord cardinal,' quoth the king, you have rather advised me to the contrary, than been any mover of the same. The special cause that moved me in this matter, is a certain scruple that pricked my conscience, upon certain words spoken by the Bishop of Bayonne, the French ambassador, who came hither to consult of a marriage between the princess our daughter, the Lady Mary, and the Duke of Orleans, second son to the King of France; and upon resolution, and determination, he desired respite to advertise the king his master thereof, whether our daughter Mary should be legitimate, in respect of my marriage with this woman, being sometime my brother's wife; which words, I pondering, begot such a scruple in my conscience, that I was much troubled at it; whereby I thought myself in danger of God's heavy displeasure and indignation; and the rather, because he has sent us no issue-male, for all the issue-male that I have had by my wife died incontinently after they came into the world, which caused me to fear God's displeasure in that particular. Thus, my conscience being tossed in that wave of troublesome doubts, and partly in despair to have any other issue than I had already by this lady, my now wife; it behoved me to consider the estate of this realm, and the dan

ger it stands in, for lack of a prince to succeed me; I thought it therefore good, in release of this mighty burthen on my conscience, as also for the quiet estate of this realm, to attempt a trial in the law herein, whether I night lawfully take another wife, without stain of carnal concupiscence, by which God may send more issue, in case this my first copulation was not good? I not having any displeasure in the person or age of the queen, with whom I could be well contented to continue, if our marriage may stand with the law of God, as with any woman alive; in which point consisteth all the doubt we go about, now to know by the learned wisdom of you our prelates and pastors, of this realm and dominion now here assembled for that purpose, to whose consciences and learning I have committed the care and judgment, according to which I will, God be willing, be well content ed to submit myself, and obey the same. And, when my conscience was so troubled, I moved it to you, my Lord of Lincoln, in confession, then being my ghostly father; and, forasmuch as you were then in some doubt, you moved me to ask counsel of the rest of the bishops; whereupon I moved it to you, my lord cardinal, to have your licence, forasmuch as you are metropolitan, to put this matter in question; and so I did to all you, my lords, to which you all granted under your seals, which is here to shew.' That is truth,' quoth the Bishop of Canterbury, and, I doubt not but my brothers will acknowledge the same.' 'No, Sir, not so, under correction,' quoth the Bishop of Rochester, for you have not my hand and seal.' No,' quoth the king, is this not your hand and seal?' and shewed it to him in the instrument with seals. No, forsooth,' quoth the bishop. How say you to that?' quoth the king to the Bishop of Canterbury. Sir, it is his hand and seal,' quoth the Bishop of Canterbury. No, my lord,' quoth the Bishop of Rochester; indeed you were in hand with me, to have both my hand and seal, as others of the lords had done; but I answered, that I would never consent to any such act, for it was much against my conscience; and therefore my hand and seal shall never be set to such an instrument, God willing;'

VOL. IV.

with many other words to that purpose. 'You say truth,' quoth the Bishop of Canterbury, 'such words you used; but you fully resolved at the last that I should subscribe your name, and put to your seal, and you would allow of the same.' All which,' quoth the Bishop of Rochester, under correction, my lord, is untrue.' 'Well,' quoth the king, we will not stand in argument with you, you are but one;" and so the king arose up, and the court was adjourned until the next day, at which time the cardinals sat again, and the council on both sides were there present to answer.

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"The king's council alledged the matrimony not good nor lawful at the beginning, because of the carnal copulation that Prince Arthur had with the queen. This matter was very narrowly scanned on that side, and to prove the carnal copulation, they had many reasons and similitudes of truth; and being answered negatively again on the other side, it seemed that all their former allegations were doubtful to be tried, and that no man knew, 'Yes,' quoth the Bishop of Rochester, I know the truth.' How can you

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know the truth,' quoth the cardinal, more than any other person?' 'Yes, forsooth, my lord,' quoth he, I know that God is the truth itself, and never saith but truth, and he saith thus: Quos Deus conjunxit, homo non separet; and forasmuch as this marriage was joined and made by God for a good intent, therefore I said I knew the truth, and that man cannot break upon any wilful action which God hath made and constituted.' much do all faithful men know,' quoth my Lord Cardinal, as well as you, therefore this reason is not sufficient in this case; for the king's council do alledge many presumptions to prove that it was not lawful at the beginning; ergo, it was not ordained by God, for God doth nothing without a good end; therefore, it is not to be doubted, but, if the presumptions be true, which they alledge to be most true, then the conjunction neither was nor could be of God; therefore I say unto you, my Lord of Rochester, you know not the truth, unless you can avoid their presumptions upon just reasons."

"Then,' quoth Dr Ridley, it is a great shame and dishonour to this

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