much bitterness and ill feeling on both sides, and prevents our forgetting, in the midst of intellectual controversy, the holy precept that bids us "honour all men," or the proverb that "we should do unto others as we would they should do unto us."

There is another class of writers to whom we have not yet addressed ourselves, and who, though not exposed to all the dangers we have hitherto noticed, are yet menaced by perils of their own, as difficult to avoid and as dangerous to the public. We allude to the large body of writers of fiction.

Many will say this is not a class worthy of being named at the same moment with those of such a far higher stamp as the writers to whom we have previously addressed ourselves. We cannot, however, agree with this. Such authors do possess an enormous amount of influence, and therefore, though their works are of a lighter character, we would fain inquire why one class of the public set their faces against them altogether; why another class follow them with such eager avidity, that their minds become unfitted for any more serious occupation. What is there in the character of fictitious writings which produces these two opposite results?

Those who object to them altogether, do so for various reasons. There is so much of morbid and factitious feeling frequently existing in these works; they so often tend to excite the passions, and make that appear right, or at least excusable, which, in our sober moments, we know to be wrong; that many look upon all writings of this kind as dangerous, and therefore to be carefully avoided. On the other side, those whose feelings are ill-regulated, and whose judgment is not matured, seize upon these. works in consequence of their very defects. Their minds, already morbid and vitiated, become more and more weakened by such a style of reading, and they cease to take any pleasure, or derive any profit, from the study of the higher class of books which appeal to the reason. Such works appear to them dull and uninteresting, because they do not possess the excitement of fictitious narrative.

But such faults do not necessarily belong to the style just described, and may be avoided. The fact that they possess so much power of evil, warrants us in concluding that they may be made equally conducive of good, if differently handled. Let virtue be made to appear in attractive colours; let us inculcate good, noble, and religious feelings and principles, and, while we show the revolting character of vice, let us avoid dwelling on and gloating over its description. No good can be accomplished by so doing, though much evil may be effected. It is easier to rouse an evil passion than to quell it again. We do not here advocate that the better characters of our tale should be made perfect, superior to evil in thought and action ;-this would be unnatural; and one great aim of the novelist should be, always to adhere to truth and probability. He should never overstep, in his compositions, the rule that the Grecian sculptor laid down for himself in the cultivation of his art. When he wished to represent intellectual superiority, and a freedom from earthly ties, he did not, as the monumental sculptors of the present day, delineate a full-faced cherub-head, flanked only with a pair of wings, such as meet our eyes in every country churchyard. Similar violations of the laws of probability never entered into his head. He still preserved the human form, only venturing carefully to enlarge the forehead, and bring

prominently forward the intellectual organs, while he diminished the lower portion of the face about the mouth and chin; that being the part which gives the animal character to the countenance. Not doing this, however, to excess, so as to produce the idea of deformity; but simply so to give the intellectual portion an ascendancy, that it may convey to our minds an idea of mental and moral superiority.

No greater exaggeration than this should the writer of fiction ever allow himself, or he will fail of producing the effect he intends. An example will illustrate our meaning.

In the works of the celebrated American novelist Cooper we meet repeatedly with a certain character, under different names, such as the "Pathfinder," the "Deerslayer," &c. We always welcome him with pleasure, and while we watch the gradual unfolding of his beautiful and deeply religious character, we learn to admire and love the excellences there portrayed; and possibly a spark of his goodness and purity may remain with ourselves when we close the book. This could not have been the case if the character had been unnatural or impossible; but the living prototype from whom it was drawn, actually existed till within a few years ago, and dwelt, as the Pathfinder is represented to have done, in the wild forests and prairie-lands of America. And now, having said so much on the faults into which authors sometimes fall, let us address one word to general readers.

In judging of a work, do not be carried away by mere beauty of style, or elegance of expression: these things are but ornaments. Divest the thoughts and arguments you meet with of such adventitious aid, and examine them in themselves. If they are suitable and true, receive them. If, when re-expressed in a short and simple manner, they lose the strength you had previously supposed them to possess, look upon them with distrust ;-it was their external covering made them acceptable in your eyes; and all is not gold that glitters. If, when unadorned, and presented to your judgment, they convey one sentiment which will degrade or debase your moral nature, close the book, however fascinating its interest, and remember, that to read its pages, is wilfully to imbibe a poison which is destroying you. C.

WRITTEN EXAMINATIONS.-Frequent written reviews are among the most successful means that teachers can employ for securing thoroughness and accuracy of scholarship. Several topics are written distinctly on the black-board, and the pupils are required to expand them as fully and accurately as possible. Each pupil is seated by himself, and furnished with pen and paper; but receives no assistance, direct or indirect, from either teacher or text-book. This mode of examining a class accomplishes at least three important objects at the same time. It affords a thorough test of the pupil's knowledge of the subject; it is one of the best methods of cultivating freedom and accuracy in the use of language; and it furnishes a valuable discipline to the pupil's mind, by throwing him entirely on his own resources. task of examining so many separate written exercises, and of estimating their value, increases the labour of the teacher; but the gain to the pupil is more than an equivalent for the extra service required.-Massachusetts Teacher.-An able Magazine.

The

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DISCIPLINA REDIVIVA-No. 10.

MODERN LANGUAGES AND TRAVEL.

E have associated these two topics, because we think that they reciprocate an interest which neither of them apart from the other possesses. We shall speak of them first in this connection, and

afterwards of each separately.

The more intimate a man's knowledge of languages, dead or living, the more advantage he will derive from travel; the more he travels, the greater the demand for such an acquaintance with the tongues of other people, past or present, whose sepulchred or still breathing energies and genius he goes to contemplate. The visitor in Italy or Greece will sorely repent the loss of his Latin and Greek, and the lack of historical knowledge. Such resources we have urged our young student to keep a jealous hold upon, and to increase by systematic study.

But not for the present to say more of Greek or Latin, how does our reader stand with respect to modern languages-the vehicle and expression of what will after all be most interesting to the student of men and manners? Are we in the habit of looking with living interest upon what, to be a possession at all, must be a living and an active possession ? When a boy leaves school, does he commonly carry with him, we will not say such an acquaintance with modern languages, but such a feeling for them as is sufficient to induce him to pursue their study with interest and alacrity? Nay, does he not often take away with him the notion of an antagonism between dead and living-between Greek and Germanbetween Latin and French; and are not both parents and tutors too often to blame for his subsidence between the chairs of ancient and modern learning? We say, cultivate both.* Let a definite and sufficiently frequent opportunity for the study of modern languages be intermingled with the sterner study of the classics; let the one relieve and illustrate the other; give the lad the practical work-day advantage of the one, whilst he carries with him the refinement, the indescribable education of the other; and when he leaves school, he will not be induced thoughtlessly to abandon either. He may be taught, that to make his way to Rome, and save his money by the road (if no more), he must speak French and Italian fairly; to understand ancient Rome, when he gets there, he must have a familiarity with Livy, Horace, and Juvenal.

In these days of rapid transit, is it not allowable to hold forth this connection between languages and travel as a powerful inducement to study, and as giving new life to the endeavours of the schoolboy just let loose from school? How would an anticipated tour up the Mediterranean quicken and concentrate the energies of the lad who had just learnt to

* "It is to your shame (I speak to you all, you young gentlemen of England), that one maid should go beyond you all in excellency of learning and knowledge of divers tongues. Point forth six of the best given gentlemen of this Court, and all they together show not so much good will, spend not so much time, bestow not so many hours daily, orderly and constantly, for the increase of learning and knowledge, as doth the Queen's Majesty herself. Yea, I believe, that beside her perfect readiness in Latin, Italian, French, and Spanish, she readeth here now at Windsor more Greek every day than one prebendary of this Church doth read Latin in a whole week."-Ascham's Scholemaster, pp. 67, 68.

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appreciate Horace, or to read with interest the glowing descriptions of Madame de Staël's "Corinne !" Would not that one word, travel, to the thoughtful mind, act like a charm upon the whole circle of studies, becoming an education of the taste and the imagination (of this, more in a future paper), and be the means of lifting the whole man in the scale of earnestness and intelligence?

The great difficulty in all education is to give to study a definite aim, -something at once to enliven and to draw the student forward on his course. It is the work of the schoolmaster to supply this aim by an adroit and various suggestion, suited to the varying tastes and capacities and prospects of his pupils. In self-education, and that phase of it which consists in the carrying on of the tutor's responsible labours suggested in this scheme, this conscious aim in study will commonly precede a studious habit, and contribute to its formation.

In this paper, we are seeking more particularly for inducements to the study of modern languages, as a most desirable pursuit on the ground of self-interest, and also as means to high intellectual enjoyment. We think that we find such an inducement in travel. At the same time, we are persuaded that young men do not, as a matter of course, associate the two together, or seek to derive from the one the peculiar advantages tendered by the other. How seldom do we hear of a youth setting to work to qualify himself for an intelligent intercourse with the foreigners whom he may expect to be thrown with in the course of (what is to most men nowadays) a probable opportunity of travel in other countries !* Nay, is it not notorious, that we English are neglectful of the most obvious precautions and axioms of the science of travel;t that we leave home without a thought as to that currency of thought and intelligence from which a dogged ignorance of other tongues must cut us off, content with having established credit with a banker in Paris, or Rome, or Naples, for our expenses by the road? Is it not also true, that late events have broken in upon our national unwillingness to communicate with foreigners; that the waters which separate us from the Gallia of Cæsar, are no longer an oceanus dissociabilis; and that, as the truehearted allies of a generous neighbour, we are responsible for the maintenance of these happy relations, which have been suffered to grow up between us? Is it not true, that a mutual understanding between two nations is materially aided, and must eventually be sustained, by that kind of consideration which shows itself in the acquirement of the strange language by the members of either nation? Is it not true, that the Englishman in Paris contracts a far greater debt, in the kindness and affability of the natives, than the Frenchman in London? And is it not further true, that we have, as a nation (in virtue of our mixed race, and our composite language), a larger capacity for the attainment of French, and German, and Italian, than those who speak these languages

*He that travelleth into a country, before he hath some entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to travel. If you will have a young man to put his travel into a little room, and in a short time to gather much, this you must do first... he must have some entrance into the language before he goeth."Bacon.

† It is also an art. See Galton's "Art of Travel," for a most useful and interesting discussion of the manifold expedients which a wide-spread experience has furnished to the hand of an able registrar.

have in their turn for English? Our insular position has doubtless much to do with the fact that, as a nation, we know one language only, whereas the continental nations know, each of them, at least two. There is, also, beyond this, ground for some little of the national pride which our self-containedness, so to speak, has engendered; but there is also reason, with respect to this very point, for serious question as to the future. Europe is no longer what it was. England cannot afford to hold aloof, or suffer herself to become estranged in any one particular, in which she might rule a different order of things. Whilst we bear in mind good Roger Ascham's warnings against the dangers of foreign travel,* we profess to be more enlightened, to have larger hearts and

* "Sir Richard Sackville, that worthy gentleman of worthy memory, as I said in the beginning, in the Queen's Privy Chamber at Windsor, after he had talked with me for the right choice of good wit in a child for learning; and of the true difference betwixt quick and hard wits; of alluring young children by gentleness to love learning, and of the special care that was to be had to keep young men from licentious living; he was most earnest with me to have me say my mind also, what I thought concerning the fancy that many young gentlemen of England have to travel abroad, and namely, to live a long life in Italy. His request, both for his authority and good will toward me, was a sufficient commandinent unto me, to satisfy his pleasure with uttering plainly my opinion in that matter. 'Sir,' quoth I, 'I take going thither, and living there, for a young gentleman that doth not go under the keep and guard of such a man, as both by wisdom can, and authority dare rule him, to be marvellous dangerous.' 'Yet if a gentleman needs travel in Italy, he shall do well to look to the life of the wisest traveller that ever travelled thither, set out by the wisest writer that ever spake with tongue, God's doctrine only excepted; and that is Ulysses in Homer. . . . Yea, even those that be learned and witty travellers, when they be disposed to praise travelling, as a great commendation, and the best Scripture they have for it, they gladly recite the third verse of Homer, in his first book of Odyssea, containing a great praise of Ulysses, for the wit he gathered and wisdom he used in travelling :

:

• Πολλῶν δ ̓ ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄοστεα, καὶ νόον ἔγνω.

And yet is not Ulysses commended so much, nor so oft in Homer, because he was TоλúτроTоç; this is, skilful in many men's manners and fashions; as because he was Toλuunris; that is, wise in all purposes and wary in all places. Which wisdom and wariness will not serve never a traveller, except Pallas be always at his elbow; that is, God's special grace from Heaven to keep him in God's fear in all his doings, in all bis journey."-Ascham's Scholemaster, pp. 73-77.

"I hear say some young gentlemen of ours do count it their shame to be counted learned; and perchance they count it their shame to be counted honest also; for I hear say, they meddle as little with the one as with the other. A marvellous case, that gentlemen should be so ashamed of good learning, and never a whit ashamed of ill manners! Such do say for them, that the gentlemen of France do so; which is a lie, as God will have it. Langæus and Bellæus, that be dead, and the noble Vidam of Chartres, that is alive, and infinite more in France which I hear tell of, prove this to be most false. And though some in France, which will needs be gentlemen, whether men will or no, and have no more gentleship in their hat than in their head, be at deadly feud with both learning and honesty, yet I believe, if that noble prince, King Francis the First, were alive, they should have neither place in his Court nor pension in his wars if he had knowledge of them. This opinion is not French, but plain Turkish, from whence some French fetch more faults than this; which I pray God keep out of England."-Ibid., pp. 57, 58.

Roger Ascham complains bitterly of the licentiousness of the "Englishmen Italianated" of his own day, and of the many "fond books of late translated out of Italian into English, sold in every shop in London; commended by honest titles, the sooner to corrupt honest manners."-Ibid., pp. 84, 85; also at p. 95.

"Not because I do contemn either the knowledge of strange and divers