Imatges de pàgina
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5th Form.

Lower Fifth.

Upper Remove.

4th Form.

Lower Remove.

3d Form.

2d Form.

1st Form.

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TABLE.-Course of Study in Rugby Grammar School, under Dr. Arnold.

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Latin Grammar.
Latin Delectus.

Latin Grammar.

(hurch catech. Markham's England, Tables; four rules; Hamel's Exercises,
New Test. his- vol. 1.
simple and compound to auxiliary verb.
tory, abridged.
Reduction.

Markham's England, Review of 1st Form. Hamel's Exercises,
Rule of three; prac to auxiliary verb;]

St. Luke.

Latin Delectus. Eu- Genesis.

vol. 2.

tropius.

tice.

the conjugations Gaultier's Geogra

phy.

Matthiae's abridged Exodus, Num- Eutropius; Physical Rule of three; prac- Hamel's Exercises, Greek gram.; Val-bers, Judges, St. Geography, (of Soc., tice; vulgar fractions; part I, continued;| py's Gr. exercises; Matthew, Sam-for Diff. of Useful interest. do.,

do. delectus; uel.

trans.

Florilegium; into Latin.

Knowledge.)

irregular verbs. Elizabeth, ou les exiles en Siberie.

Gr. gram; Valpy's St. Matthew, in Justin, parts; Xeno- Vulgar fractions; in- Hamel, continued ex.; Greek iambics; Gr. Testament. phon, Anabasis, parts; terest; decimal frac-and reviewed. easy iambics of trag- Acts, English. Markham's France, tions; square root. Jussieu, Jardin des edies; Virgil, Ecl., to Philip of Valois. Plantes. Cic. De Senect.

Eschyl., Promethe- Acts, Greek.
us. Virg., En., 2 & St. John, Eng.
3. Cic. de Amicit. Old Testament
History.

Xenophon, Hellenics, Decim., invol., evol., Hamel, 2d part; La
part; Florus, parts; Algebraic add., subtr., Fontaine's fables.
History Greece, (Soc. mult., & div; binom.
for D. of U. K.) Mark- theor., Euclid, 1, prop.
ham's France, rest; I-XV.

Italian and German)
Geography, details.

Sophocles, Philoet., St. John, Gr.; Parts of Arrian, and Equation of payment, Translations, Eng-
Eschylus, Eumen., Deut. & Peter, of Paterc., bk. 2. Sir discount, simple equn-lish_into_French
Iliad, 1 & 2, Eneid, Eng.; Psalms, J. Mackintosh's Eng. tions. Euclid, rest of La Font. fables.
4 & 5; Horace, parts; select.
Book I.
Cic. Epist., parts.

Eschyl., Sept, cont. St. John; Tim Arrian, parts; Hero- Exchange, alligation, Syntax, idioms.
Theb.; Sopho., Ed., & Titus; Bible dotus, parts; Livy, 2 simple equation with Play of Molière;
Tyr.; Iliad, 3 & 4 Hist., 1 Kings to & 3, parts; Hallam, two unknown quan- into Eng. and then
En., 6 & 7; Cicero's Nehemiah. Middle Ages; France, tities, problems; Eu-back into French.
Epist., parts; Hor.,
Spain, Greeks, Sara-clid, Book III.
cens. European geog-

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Esch., Agam., Iliad, Corinthians 1 & Parts of Herodotus, Quadratic equations, Pascal, Pensées.5, 6; Odyss., 9; De 2. Paley, Hor. Thucydides, & Livy Trigonometry, Euclid, Translations, Engmosthenes, Sept. in Paulin. Hallam, Middle Ages, through Book VI. lish into French. State of Society.

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Prophet, Parts of Thucydides, Euclid, 3-6; simple Parts of Guizot, Homer; one or more Septuagint ver- Arrian, Tacitus, Rus- and quadratic equa- Revol. de l'AngleParts of sell's Modern Europe. tions, plain trigonom-terre; and of Migof orations of De New Test. etry, conics. net, Revol. Franc.

Greek tragedies, and sion.

mosth.; Cic. in Verr.;

6th Form.

part of Aristot. Eth.

The general school hours throughout the week are as follows:Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.-First lesson, seven to eight; second lesson, quarter past nine to eleven; third and fourth lessons, quarter past two to five.

Tuesday and Thursday-First and second lessons as on Monday. Eleven to one, composition. Half holiday.

Saturday. As on Tuesday and Thursday, except that there is no composition from eleven and one.

There are various other lessons, at additional hours, for different classes.

FRENCH.

"I came to Rugby," was his remark, "full of plans for school reform; but I soon found that the reform of a public school was a much more difficult thing than I had imagined." But there was no shrinking; on the contrary, the earnestness and the rapidity with which the head-master pressed on, were such as to excite apprehensions on the part even of his friends, while they who doubted or opposed his course, broke out into objections and menaces sufficient to shake the resolution of a less resolute man. Arnold was strong, however, both in the principles which led him to reform and in those which guided him in reform. There was nothing indiscriminate or turbulent in his movements. "Another system," he said in reference to the constitution of the school, "may be better in itself, but I am placed in this system, and am bound to try what I can make of it." So, without attempting to overthrow, Arnold continued his efforts to repair and to uprear, with a degree of considerateness and of prudence remarkable in one so ardent and so determined. "That's the way," wrote one of his pupils, "that all the doctor's reforms have been carried out when he has been left to himself,-quietly and naturally; putting a good thing in the place of a bad, and letting the bad die out; no wavering and no hurry, the best thing that could be done for the time being, and patience for the rest.”

Instead of singling out one reform after another, we shall attempt a more connected delineation of him who wrought them all. It would be difficult, indeed, to say what there was in the school which Arnold did not reform,-if not by outward change, at least by the inward spirit infused into the whole body of which he was the head. As a matter of fact, therefore, as well as of expression, the portrait of Arnold should be drawn, not simply as that of the reformer, but rather as that of the teacher and the administrator,--the head-master of Rugby school.

In his relation to the trustees of the school, Arnold at once took the position that he must be independent of all interference from them. It was his duty, he said, "not only to himself, but to the master of every foundation school in England," to resist every intrusion into his own province; he, and not the trustees, was the master; he, and not they, must do the master's work and hold the master's authority. He had no mind, on the other hand, to shake off any just control. To the trustees, in their proper places, he looked with a respect and a submission that could not have been greater; nor could the intercourse between him and them have been, as a general rule, more agreeable or more amicable than it was. The point with him was simply this, that if he was to possess the confidence of the trustees

so far as to be placed or to be retained in the mastership, he must possess it in such measure as to be his own master as well as the master of the school. Fortunately, the constitution of Rugby school favored the independence of the head-master.

There was the same sort of claim on Arnold's part to independence in relation to the parents of his pupils. He bore with no meddling; he deferred to no pretense from them; their putting their boys under him was not putting themselves above him. Yet no teacher was ever readier to recognize his true responsibility to the parents of his scholars. "It is a most touching thing to me," he said, "to receive a new fellow from his father, when I think what an influence there is in this place for evil as well as for good. * If ever I could receive a new boy from his father without emotion, I should think it was high time to be off." Nor did the feeling wear away with the residence of the pupil. The letters from Arnold to the parents of those who were with him are amongst the most convincing proofs of his constant watchfulness and constant faithfulness as a teacher.

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To exhibit the relations between Arnold and his pupils will require fuller treatment. His idea of a teacher embraced, as we have seen, a variety of qualities, on which he was as intent in practice as in theory. "When I find that I can not run up the library stairs, I shall know that it is time for me to go," he said in reference to that freshness of frame which he deemed essential to freshness of mind, or at any rate to the freshness of mind required in the teacher. Exactly the same principle appears in his pursuit of fresh studies and his cultivation of fresh powers. "I do not judge of them," he said of his private pupils, I should if I were not taking pains to improve my own mind." Nor was the most industrious of the Rugby boys half so hard a student as his master. "The qualifications which I deem essential to the due performance of a master's duties here," wrote Arnold to a sub-master on his appointment, "may in brief be expressed as the spirit of a Christian and a gentleman; that a man should enter upon his business not έx rapέpyou, (as a subordinate work,) but as a subtantive and most important duty; * * that he should be publicspirited, liberal, and entering heartily into the interest, honor and general respectability and distinction of the society which he has joined; and that he should have sufficient vigor of mind and thirst for knowledge, to persist in adding to his own stores without neglecting the full improvement of those whom he is teaching." All that Arnold thus proposed for the teacher, he proposed, with the necessary qualifications, for the pupil. He was quite as anxious about the

physical as he was about the intellectual condition of his boys; "and whenever," says one of them who became his biographer," he saw they were reading too much, he always remonstrated with them, relaxed their work, and if they were in the upper part of the school, would invite them to his house in the half-year or the holidays to refresh them." As for the minds of the boys, he had but one wish,— that they should be at work. Their cleverness was altogether an inferior consideration; even the amount of their attainments was comparatively unimportant, so that they were doing what they could. "If there be one thing on earth which is truly admirable," he said, "it is to see God's wisdom blessing an inferiority of natural powers, where they have been honestly, truly, and zealously cultivated." "Its great business," he wrote of education, "as far as regards the intellect, is to inspire it with a desire of knowledge, and to furnish it with power to obtain and to profit by what it seeks for;" words in which we may trace the features of the pupil who would have satisfied Arnold,—the boy who wished and who strove to learn. But far above all intellectual, as above all physical development, was the moral excellence after which he would have teachers and pupils alike exerting themselves. "What we must look for here," he said to the boys, “is, 1st, religious and moral principles; 2dly, gentlemanly conduct; 3dly, intellectual ability." "It must be," he declared at a time when the school was rife with disorder, "it must be a school of Christian gentlemen." "I hold all the scholarship that man ever had," he wrote to a friend, "to be infinitely worthless in comparison with even a very humble degree of spiritual advancement." To this point-the religious element of Arnold's system-we shall revert; it has been alluded to in this place only to complete the outlines of the teacher and the pupil after Arnold's design.

We have no wish to represent Arnold as faultless. The appreciation of his strong points is our object; and we pass by the detection of his weak ones. He had his failings both as a man and as a teacher; and the ideal of the relations between him and his pupils was seldom entirely attained. But we must refer to his biography or to his educational works for an account of his errors; our few pages are hardly ample enough to describe his virtues.

"What a sight it is," writes one of the Rugby men,-"the doctor as a ruler." It was the first and the chief aspect in which he appeared to his pupils. He was not merely the master but the headmaster, the presiding spirit of the establishment, the source of law and authority, of honor and dishonor. It was often said of Arnold that he was born to be a statesman. Of all the signs to this effect, above

his writings, above his exertions as a citizen, his administration of Rugby school may be safely set down as the most remarkable. The school was a state on a small scale; its magistrates the masters, its citizens the three hundred pupils; each with his own tastes, his own powers, his own circumstances; not easily managed by himself, and much less easily directed in the midst of his two hundred and ninetynine associates. No state was ever better ruled on the whole; none was more carefully guarded from evil and shame; none more consistently guided to nobleness and truth.

Higher still was the position of Arnold as the chaplain of the school. When this office fell vacant, a year or two after he joined the school, he asked it from the trustees on the ground that, as headmaster, he was "the real and proper religious instructor of the boys." Pray let it be remarked before we go further, that he did not make his religious instructions depend upon his being in the chaplaincy. He had begun to preach to the boys, as well as to give a religious tone to his daily teachings, from the very first year of his mastership; and what he began, he continued. Nay more; he would not make his instructions in religious matters depend even on his being a clergyman. Had he been a layman, he would not have preached as often, but he certainly would have addressed the boys on their Christian duties from time to time; while the religious atmosphere of his own recitation-room would have been quite as constant and quite as effective. "The business of a schoolmaster," was a frequent expression with him, "no less than that of a parish minister, is the cure of 'souls." In this spirit, and not merely in that of a clerical functionary, he assumed the chaplain's office. How well he discharged it, not merely in the chapel, but throughout the school, may be gathered from a pupil's life-like report of his preaching and his influence.

More worthy pens than mine have described that scene. The oak pulpit standing out by itself above the school seats. The tall gallant form, the kindling eye, the voice, now soft as the low notes of a flute, now clear and stirring as the call of the light infantry bugle, of him who stood there Sunday after Sunday, witnessing and pleading for his Lord, the King of righteousness and love and glory, with whose spirit he was filled, and in whose power he spoke. The long lines of young faces rising tier above tier down the whole length of the chapel, from the little boy's who had just left his mother to the young man's who was going out next week into the great world rejoicing in his strength. It was a great and solemn sight, and never more so than at this time of year, when the only lights in the chapel were in the pulpit and at the seats of the præpostors of the week, and the soft twilight stole over the rest of the chapel, deepening into darkness in the high gallery behind the organ.

But what was it after all which seized and held these three hundred boys, dragging them out of themselves, willing or unwilling, for twenty minutes on Sunday afternoons? True, there always were boys scattered up and down the school, who, in heart and head, were worthy to hear and able to carry away the deepest and wisest words then spoken. But these were a minority always,

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