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letters, although the very least entertaining things that could be tolerated in a newspaper, cannot and do not pretend to give instructions to those who are wholly ignorant. All my hope is to set my readers thinking; and my highest delight would be that. any one should be induced by them to suspect his own ignorance, and to try to gain knowledge where it is to be gained. But assuredly he who does honestly want to gain knowledge will not go to a newspaper to look for it.

No, sir, real knowledge, like everything else of the highest value, is not to be obtained so easily. It must be worked for, studied for,-thought for,--and more than all, it must be prayed for. And that is education, which lays the foundation of such habits, and gives them, so far as a boy's early age will allow, their proper exercise. For doing this, the materials exist in the studies actually pursued in our commercial schools; but it cannot be done effectually, if a boy's education is to be cut short at fourteen. His schooling indeed may be ended without mischief, if his parents are able to guide his education afterwards; and the way to gain this hereafter, is to make the most of the schooling time of the rising generation,that finding how much may be done, even in their case, within the limited time allowed for their education, they may be anxious to give their children greater advantages, that the fruit may be proportionally greater.

It may be said that this is impracticable; to which I have only to say that I will not believe it to be so till I am actually unable to hope otherwise; for if it be impracticable, my expectations of good from any political changes are faint indeed. These changes might still be necessary, might still be just, but they would not mend our condition: the growth of evil, moral and political, would be no less rapid than it is now.

Miscellaneous Works: Education of the
Middle Classes, Letter ii.

CLASSICAL EDUCATION.

A reader unacquainted with the real nature of a classical education will be in danger of undervaluing it, when he sees that so large a portion of time at so important a period of human life is devoted to the study of a few ancient writers whose works seem to have no direct bearing on the studies and duties of our own generation. For instance, although some provision is undoubtedly made at Rugby for acquiring a knowledge of modern history, yet the history of Greece and Rome is more studied than that of France and England; and Homer and Vir

gil are certainly much more attended to than Shakspere and Milton. This appears to many persons a great absurdity; while others who are so far swayed by authority as to believe the system to be right, are yet unable to understand how it can be so. A. Journal of Education may not be an unfit place for a few remarks on this subject.

It may be freely confessed that the first origin of classical education affords in itself no reasons for its being continued now. When Latin and Greek were almost the only written languages of civilized men, it is manifest that they must have furnished the subjects of all liberal education. The question therefore is wholly changed since the growth of a complete literature in other languages; since France, and Italy, and Germany, and England, have each produced their philosophers, their poets, and their historians, worthy to be placed on the same level with those of Greece and Rome.

But although there is not the same reason now which existed three or four centuries ago for the study of Greek and Roman literature, yet there is another no less substantial. Expel Greek and Latin from your schools, and you confine the views of the existing generation to themselves and their immediate predecessors; you will cut off so many centuries of the world's experience, and place us in the same state as if the human race had first come into existence in the year 1500. For it is nothing to say that a few learned individuals might still study classical literature: the effect produced on the public mind would be no greater than that which has resulted from the labours of our Oriental scholars: it would not spread beyond themselves; and men in general, after a few generations, would know as little of Greece and Rome, as they do actually of China and Hindostan. But such an ignorance would be incalculably more to be regretted. With the Asiatic mind we have no nearer connexion and sympathy than is derived from our common humanity. But the mind of the Greek and of the Roman is in all the essential points of its constitution our own and not only so, but it is our mind developed to an extraordinary degree of perfection. Wide as is the difference between us with respect to those physical instruments which minister to our uses or our pleasures; although the Greeks and Romans had no steam-engines, no printing-presses, no mariner's compass, no telescopes, no microscopes, no gunpowder; yet in our moral and political views, in those matters which must determine human character, there is a perfect resemblance in these respects. Aristotle, and Plato, and Thucydides, and Cicero, and Tacitus, are most untruly called ancient

writers: they are virtually our own countrymen and contemporaries, but have the advantage which is enjoyed by intelligent travellers, that their observation has been exercised in a field out of the reach of common men and that having thus seen in a manner with our eyes what we cannot see for ourselves, their conclusions are such as bear upon our own circumstances, while their information has all the charm of novelty, and all the value of a mass of new and pertinent facts, illustrative of the great science of the nature of civilized man.

Now when it is said that men in manhood so often throw their Greek and Latin aside, and that this very fact shows the uselessness of their early studies, it is much more true to say that it shows how completely the literature of Greece and Rome would be forgotten, if our system of education did not keep up the knowledge of it. But it by no means shows that system to be useless, unless it followed that when a man laid aside his Greek and Latin books, he forgot also all that he had ever gained from them. This, however, is so far from being the case, that even where the results of a classical education are least tangible, and least appreciated even by the individual himself, still the mind often retains much of the effect of its early studies in the general liberality of its tastes and comparative comprehensiveness of its views and notions.

All this supposes, indeed, that classical instruction should be sensibly conducted; it requires that a classical teacher should be fully acquainted with modern history and modern literature, no less than with those of Greece and Rome. What is, or perhaps what used to be, called a mere scholar, cannot possibly communicate to his pupils the main advantages of a classical education. The knowledge of the past is valuable because without it our knowledge of the present and of the future must be scanty: but if the knowledge of the past be confined wholly to itself,-if, instead of being made to bear upon things around us, it be totally isolated from them, and so disguised by vagueness and misapprehension as to appear incapable of illustrating them, then indeed it becomes little better than laborious trifling, and they who declaim against it may be fully forgiven.

Quarterly Journal of Education, 1834.

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Boston, and grandson of Colonel William Prescott, who commanded at Bunker Hill, June 17, 1775, was born at Salem, Massachusetts, May 4, 1796; graduated at Harvard University, with distinguished honour, 1814; passed two years in Europe (visiting England, France, and Italy), 1815-17, and about three months (visiting England, Scotland, Brussels, and Antwerp) in 1850; died suddenly of apoplexy, Jan. 28, 1859. (See article George Ticknor, LL.D., in this volume.)

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Át a college-dinner in his Junior year, an under-graduate threw at random a large, hard piece of bread, which struck one of Prescott's eyes, and, for all useful purposes, closed it forever on the world. His other eye was soon sympathetically affected; and the youthful student, to whom life had but yesterday seemed so bright and hope-inspiring, was now obliged to turn his back upon the sun and all that it gladdens, and, at a later period, for many weary months to submit to the imprisonment of a darkened room."-Allibone's Crit. Dictionary of Eng. Literature, ii. 1663, which see for copious accounts of Prescott's life and works. See also Life of William Hickling Prescott, by George Ticknor, Boston, 1864, 4to.

Works: History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic, Bost., 1838, 3 vols. 8vo, 12th London edit., 1859; History of the Conquest of Mexico, with a Preliminary View of the Ancient Mexican Civilization, and the Life of the Conqueror, Hernando Cortez, New York, 1843, 3 vols. 8vo, 10th London edit., 1859; History of the Conquest of Peru, with a Preliminary View of the Civilization of the Incas, New York, 1847, 3 vols. 8vo, 8th London edit., 1859; History of the Reign of Philip the Second, King of Spain, vols. i. and ii., Boston, Dec. 1855, 4th London edit., 1855, vol. iii., Boston, Dec. 1858, Lond., 1858; The Life of Charles the Fifth after his Abdication, being a Supplement to a new edition of Robertson's Reign of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, Bost., 1857, 3 vols. 8vo, Lond., 1857; Biographical and Critical Miscellanies, New York, 1845, 8vo, 2d London edit., 1850, Svo, new edit., 1859, 8vo.

America, and he may justly be assigned a Place "Mr. Prescott was by far the first Historian of beside the very greatest of modern Europe. To the indispensable requisites of such an authorindustry, candour, and impartiality-he united ornamental qualities of the highest grade: a mind stored with various and Elegant Learning, a poetical temperament, and great, it may almost be said PRES- unrivalled, pictorial Powers. These great qualities appeared not less strongly in his last production, the History of the Reign of Philip the Second, than in the earlier works-the History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, the History of

one of the most eminent of modern historians, son of Judge William Prescott, of

the Conquest of Mexico, and the History of the
Conquest of Peru-which won for him his world-
wide fame. The death of such a man, in the prime
of life, and in the Meridian of his Powers, is a loss
not to his country alone, but to the whole human
race, to whom his beautiful writings will always
prove a source of instruction and enjoyment."-
SIR ARCHIBALD ALISON TO S. AUSTIN ALLIBONE,
Glasgow, June 4, 1859.

"I had as great regard for Mr. Prescott as for any man of whom I knew so little; and I think very highly of his works."-LORD MACAULAY TO THE SAME, Holly Lodge, Kensington, May 28, 1859.

SABELLA OF SPAIN AND ELIZABETH OF

ENGLAND.

It is in the amiable qualities of her sex that Isabella's superiority becomes most apparent over her illustrious namesake, Elizabeth of England, whose history presents some features parallel to her own. were disciplined in early life by the teachBoth ings of that stern nurse of wisdom, adversity. Both were made to experience the deepest humiliation at the hands of their nearest relative, who should have cherished and protected them. Both succeeded in establishing themselves on the throne after the most precarious vicissitudes. Each conducted her kingdom, through a long and triumphant reign, to a height of glory which it had never before reached. Both lived to see the vanity of all earthly grandeur, and to fall the victims of an inconsolable melancholy; and both left behind an illustrious name, unrivalled in the subsequent annals of the country.

But with these few circumstances of their history the resemblance ceases. Their characters afford scarcely a point of contact. Elizabeth, inheriting a large share of the bold and bluff King Harry's temperament, was haughty, arrogant, coarse, and irascible; while with these fiercer qualities she mingled deep dissimulation and strange irresolution. Isabella, on the other hand, tempered the dignity of royal station with the most bland and courteous manners. was constant in her purposes; and her conOnce resolved, she duct in public and private life was characterized by candour and integrity. Both may be said to have shown that magnanimity which is implied by the accomplishment of great objects in the face of great obstacles. But Elizabeth was desperately selfish; she was incapable of forgiving, not merely a real injury, but the slightest affront to her vanity; and she was merciless in exacting retribution. Isabella, on the other hand, lived only for others,-was ready at all times to sacrifice self to considerations of public duty; and, far from personal resentments, showed the greatest condescension and kindness to those who had most sensibly injured her; while

her benevolent heart sought every means to mitigate the authorized severities of the law, even toward the guilty.

indeed, was placed in situations which deBoth possessed rare fortitude. Isabella, of it than her rival; but no one will doubt manded more frequent and higher displays ter of Henry the Eighth. Elizabeth was better educated, and every way more highly a full measure of this quality in the daughaccomplished than Isabella. But the latter knew enough to maintain her station with dignity; and she encouraged learning by a munificent patronage. The masculine powers and passions of Elizabeth seemed to divorce attributes of her sex; at least from those her in a great measure from the peculiar which constitute its peculiar charm; for she had abundance of its foibles,-a coquetry chill; a levity most careless, if not criminal; and love of admiration which age could not and a fondness for dress and tawdry magnificence of ornament, which was ridiculous, periods of life in which it was indulged. or disgusting, according to the different Isabella, on the other hand, distinguished through life for decorum of manners and purity beyond the breath of calumny, was content with the legitimate affection which she could inspire_within the range of her domestic circle. Far from a frivolous affectation of ornament or dress, she was most simple in her own attire, and seemed to set no value on her jewels, but as they could serve the necessities of the state: when they gave them away to her friends. could be no longer useful in this way, she

par

selection of their ministers; though ElizaBoth were uncommonly sagacious in the beth was drawn into some errors in this ticular by her levity, as was Isabella by her religious feeling. It was this, combined with her excessive humility, which led to the only grave errors in the administration of the latter. Her rival fell into no such errors; and she was a stranger to the amiable qualities which led to them. Her conduct principle; and, though the bulwark of the was certainly not controlled by religious Protestant faith, it might be difficult to say whether she were at heart most a Protestant connection with the state, in other words, or a Catholic. She viewed religion in its with herself; and she took measures for enforcing conformity in her own views, not a whit less despotic, and scarcely less sanguinary, than those countenanced for conscience' sake by her more bigoted rival.

a shade over Isabella's otherwise beautiful
This feature of bigotry, which has thrown
character, might lead to a disparagement of
her intellectual power compared with that
of the English queen. To estimate this

the heavens, and the earth, and man, the lord of it. These must be the work of the all-powerful, unknown God, Creator of the universe, on whom alone I must rely for consolation and support."

He then withdrew to his rural palace of Tezcotzinco, where he remained forty days, fasting and praying at stated hours, and offering up no other sacrifice than the sweet incense of copal, and aromatic herbs and gums. At the expiration of this time, he is said to have been comforted by a vision assuring him of the success of his petition. At all events, such proved to be the fact: and this was followed by the cheering intelligence of the triumph of his arms in a quarter where he had lately experienced some humiliating reverses.

aright, we must contemplate the results of remedy was to propitiate them by human their respective reigns. Elizabeth found all | sacrifice. The king reluctantly consented, the materials of prosperity at hand, and and the altars once more smoked with the availed herself of them most ably to build blood of slaughtered captives. But it was up a solid fabric of national grandeur. Isa- all in vain; and he indignantly exclaimed, bella created these materials. She saw the "These idols of wood and stone can neither faculties of her people locked up in a death-hear nor feel; much less could they make like lethargy, and she breathed into them the breath of life for those great and heroic enterprises which terminated in such glorious consequences to the monarchy. It is when viewed from the depressed condition of her early days, that the achievements of her reign seem scarcely less than miraculous. The masculine genius of the English queen stands out relieved beyond its natural dimensions by its separation from the softer qualities of her sex. While her rival's, like some vast but symmetrical edifice, loses in appearance somewhat of its actual grandeur from the perfect harmony of its proportions. The circumstances of their deaths, which were somewhat similar, displayed the great dissimilarity of their characters. Both pined amidst their royal state, a prey to incurable despondency rather than any marked bodily distemper. In Elizabeth it sprung from wounded vanity, a sullen conviction that she had outlived the admiration on which she had so long fed, and even the solace of friendship and the attachment of her subjects. Nor did she seek consolation, where alone it was to be found in that sad hour. Isabella, on the other hand, sunk under a too acute sensibility to the sufferings of others. But, amidst the gloom which gathered around her, she looked with the eye of faith to the brighter prospects which unfolded of the future; and when she resigned her last breath, it was amidst the tears and universal lamentations of her people.

Greatly strengthened in his former religious convictions, he now openly professed his faith, and was more earnest to wean his subjects from their degrading superstitions, and to substitute nobler and more spiritual conceptions of the Deity. He built a temple in the usual pyramidal form, and on the summit a tower nine stories high, to represent the nine heavens; a tenth was surmounted by a roof painted black, and profusely gilded with stars on the outside, and incrusted with metal and precious stones within. He dedicated this to "the unknown God, the Cause of causes." It seems probable, from the emblem on the tower, as well as from the complexion of his verses, as we

History of the Reign of Ferdinand and shall see, that he mingled with his reverence Isabella the Catholic.

THE KING OF TEZCUCO.

It would be incredible that a man of the enlarged mind and endowments of Nezahualcoyoti should acquiesce in the sordid superstitions of his countrymen, and still more in the sanguinary rites borrowed by them from the Aztecs. In truth, his humane temper shrunk from these cruel ceremonies, and he strenuously endeavoured to recall his people to the more pure and simple worship of the ancient Toltecs. A circumstance produced a temporary change in his conduct.

for the Supreme the astral worship which existed among the Toltecs. Various musical instruments were placed on the top of the tower, and the sound of them, accompanied by the ringing of a sonorous metal struck by a mallet, summoned the worshippers to prayers at regular seasons. No image was allowed in the edifice as unsuited to the "invisible God ;" and the people were expressly prohibited from profaning the altars with blood, or any other sacrifices than that of the perfume of flowers and sweet-scented gums.

The remainder of his days was chiefly spent in his delicious solitude of Tezcotzinco, where he devoted himself to astroHe had been married some years to the nomical and, probably, astrological studies, wife he had so unrighteously obtained, but and to meditation on his immortal destiny, was not blessed with issue. The priests-giving utterance to his feelings in songs, represented that it was owing to his neglect or rather hymns, of much solemnity and of the gods of his country, and that his only pathos. An extract from one of these will

convey some idea of his religious speculations. The pensive tenderness of the verses quoted in a preceding page is deepened here and there into a mournful, and even gloomy, colouring; while the wounded spirit, instead of seeking relief in the convivial sallies of a young and buoyant temperament, turns for consolation to the world beyond the grave.

"All things on earth have their term, and, in the most joyous career of their vanity and splendour, their strength fails, and they sink into the dust. All the round world is but a sepulchre; and there is nothing which lives on its surface that shall not be hidden and entombed beneath it. Rivers, torrents, and streams move onward to their destination. Not one flows back to its pleasant source. They rush onward, hastening to bury themselves in the deep bosom of the ocean. The things of yesterday are no more to-day; and things of today shall cease, perhaps, on the morrow. The cemetery is full of the loathsome dust of bodies once quickened by living souls, who occupied thrones, presided over assemblies, marshalled armies, subdued provinces, arrogated to themselves worship, were puffed up with vain-glorious pomp, and power, and empire.

"But these glories have all passed away, like the fearful smoke that issues from the throat of Popocatepetl, with no other memorial of their existence than the record on page of the chronicler.

the

"The great, the wise, the valiant, the beautiful,-alas! where are they now? They are all mingled with the clod; and that which has befallen them shall happen to us, and to those that come after us. Yet let us take courage, illustrious nobles and chieftains, true friends and loyal subjects, let us aspire to that heaven, where all is eternal, and corruption cannot come. The horrors of the tomb are but the cradle of the Sun, and the dark shadows of death are brilliant lights for the Stars."

The mystic import of the last sentence seems to point to that superstition respecting the mansions of the Sun, which forms so beautiful a contrast to the dark features of the Aztec mythology.

At length, about the year 1470, Nezahualcoyoti, full of years and honours, felt himself drawing near his end. Almost half a century had elapsed since he mounted the throne of Tezcuco. He had found his kingdom dismembered by faction, and bowed to the dust beneath the yoke of a foreign tyrant. He had broken that yoke; had breathed new life into the nation, renewed its ancient institutions, extended wide its domain; had seen it flourishing in all the

activity of trade and agriculture, gathering strength from its enlarged resources, and daily advancing higher and higher in the great march of civilization. All this he had seen, and might fairly attribute no small portion of it to his own wise and beneficent rule. His long and glorious day was now drawing to its close; and he contemplated the event with the same serenity which he had shown under the clouds of its morning and in its meridian splendour.

A short time before his death, he gatherea around him those of his children in whom he most confided, his chief counsellors, the ambassadors of Mexico and Tlacopan, and his little son, the heir to the crown, his only offspring by the queen. He was not then eight years old; but had already given, as far as so tender a blossom might, the rich promise of future excellence.

After tenderly embracing the child, the dying monarch threw over him the robes of sovereignty. He then gave audience to the ambassadors, and, when they had retired, made the boy repeat the substance of the conversation. He followed this by such counsels as were suited to his comprehension, and which, when remembered through the long vista of after years, would serve as lights to guide him in his government of the kingdom. He besought him not to neglect the worship of "the unknown God," regretting that he himself had been unworthy to know him, and intimating his conviction that the time would come when he should be known and worshipped throughout the land.

He next addressed himself to that one of his sons in whom he placed the greatest trust, and whom he had selected as guardian of the realm. "From this hour," said he to him, " you will fill the place that I have filled, of father to this child; you will teach him to live as he ought; and by your counsels he will rule over the empire. Stand in his place, and be his guide till he shall be of age to govern for himself." Then, turning to his other children, he admonished them to live united with ene another, and to show all loyalty to their prince, who, though a child, already manifested a discretion far above his years. "Be true to him," he added, "and he will maintain you in your rights and dignities."

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