I ventured before to term the public conscience
of the school, the pervading moral sense, of which
every mind partakes and to which so many individual
minds contribute, remains, I believe, pretty much
the same as when I left it. I have seen, within
this twelvemonth almost, the change which has been
produced upon a boy of eight or nine years of age,
upon being admitted into that school; how, from a
pert young coxcomb, who thought that all knowledge
was comprehended within his shallow brains, because
a smattering of two or three languages and one or
two sciences were stuffed into him by injudicious
treatment at home, by a mixture with the wholesome
society of so many school-fellows, in less time than
I have spoken of, he has sunk to his own level, and
is contented to be carried on in the quiet orbit of
modest self-knowledge in which the common mass of
that unpresumptuous assemblage of boys seem to move:
from being a little unfeeling mortal, he has got to
feel and reflect. Nor would it be a difficult
matter to show how, at a school like this, where the
boy is neither entirely separated from home, nor yet
exclusively under its influence, the best feelings,
the filial for instance, are brought to a maturity
which they could not have attained under a completely
domestic education; how the relation of a parent is
rendered less tender by unremitted association, and
the very awfulness of age is best apprehended by some
sojourning amidst the comparative levity of youth;
how absence, not drawn out by too great extension
into alienation or forgetfulness, puts an edge upon
the relish of occasional intercourse, and the boy
is made the better child by that which keeps
the force of that relation from being felt as perpetually
pressing on him; how the substituted paternity, into
the care of which he is adopted, while in everything
substantial it makes up for the natural, in the necessary
omission of individual fondnesses and partialities,
directs the mind only the more strongly to appreciate
that natural and first tie, in which such weaknesses
are the bond of strength, and the appetite which craves
after them betrays no perverse palate. But these
speculations rather belong to the question of the
comparative advantages of a public over a private
education in general. I must get back to my favorite
school; and to that which took place when our old
and good steward died.
[Footnote 1: Under the denomination of gage.]
[Footnote 2: I am told that the late steward [Mr. Hathaway], who evinced on many occasions a most praiseworthy anxiety to promote the comfort of the boys, had occasion for all his address and perseverance to eradicate the first of these unfortunate prejudices, in which he at length happily succeeded, and thereby restored to one half of the animal nutrition of the school those honors which painful superstition and blind zeal had so long conspired to withhold from it.]