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landau of riches. I had some inclination to step by your bulk you seem loaded for a West India in o each of these, one after another; but I know voyage. You are big enough with all your papers not by what means, I passed them by, and at last to crack twenty stage-coaches. Excuse me, infixed my eye upon a small carriage, Berlin fashion, deed, sir, for you must not enter." Our figure now which seemed the most convenient vehicle at a dis- began to expostulate: he assured the coachman, tance in the world; and upon my nearer approach that though his baggage seemed so bulky, it was found it to be The fame machine. perfectly light, and that he would be contented I instantly made up to the coachman, whom I with the smallest corner of room. But Jehu was found to be an affable and seemingly good-natured inflexible, and the carrier of the Inspectors was fellow. He informed me, that he had but a few sent to dance back again with all his papers flutdays ago returned from the Temple of Fame, to tering in the wind. We expected to have no more which he had been carrying Addison, Swift, Pope, trouble from this quarter, when in a few minutes Steele, Congreve, and Colley Cibber. That they the same figure changed his appearance, like harmade but indifferent company by the way, that he lequin upon the stage, and with the same confionce or twice was going to empty his berlin of the dence again made his approaches, dressed in lace, whole cargo: however, says he, I got them all and carrying nothing but a nosegay. Upon comsafe home, with no other damage than a black eye, ing nearer, he thrust the nosegay to the coachwhich Colley gave Mr. Pope, and am now return-man's nose, grasped the brass, and seemed now reed for another coachful. "If that be all, friend," solved to enter by violence. I found the struggle said I, "and if you are in want of company, I'll soon begin to grow hot, and the coachman, who make one with all my heart. Open the door; I was a little old, unable to continue the contest; so, hope the machine rides easy." "Oh, for that, sir, in order to ingratiate myself, I stepped in to his extremely easy." But still keeping the door shut, assistance, and our united efforts sent our literary and measuring me with his eye, "Pray, sir, have Proteus, though worsted, unconquered still, clear you no luggage? You seem to be a good-natured off, dancing a rigadoon, and smelling to his own sort of a gentleman; but I don't find you have got nosegay. any luggage, and I never permit any to travel with me but such as have something valuable to pay for coach-hire." Examining my pockets, I own I was so confident, but somewhat however theatrical; not a little disconcerted at this unexpected rebuff; but considering that I carried a number of the BEE under my arm, I was resolved to open it in his eyes, and dazzle him with the splendour of the page. He read the title and contents, however, without any emotion, and assured me he had never heard of it before. "In short, friend," said he, now losing all his former respect, "you must not come in: I expect better passengers; but as you seem a harmless creature, perhaps, if there be room left, I may let you ride a while for charity."

I now took my stand by the coachman at the door; and since I could not command a seat, was resolved to be as useful as possible, and earn by my assiduity what I could not by my merit.

The person who after him appeared as candidate for a place in the stage, came up with an air not quite

and, instead of entering, made the coachman a very low bow, which the other returned and desired to see his baggage; upon which he instantly produced some farces, a tragedy, and other miscellany productions. The coachman, casting his eye upon the cargo, assured him at present he could not possibly have a place, but hoped in time he might aspire to one, as he seemed to have read in the book of nature, without a careful perusal of which, none ever found entrace at the Temple of Fame. "What!" replied the disappointed poet, "shall my tragedy, in which I have vindicated the cause of liberty and virtue—”"Follow nature," returned the other, "and never expect to find lasting fame by topics which only please from their popu The next that presented for a place was a most larity. Had you been first in the cause of freedom whimsical figure indeed. He was hung round or praised in virtue more than an empty name, it with papers of his own composing, not unlike those is possible you might have gained admittance; who sing ballads in the streets, and came dancing but at present I beg sir, you will stand aside for up to the door with all the confidence of instant another gentleman whom I see approaching." admittance. The volubility of his motion and ad- This was a very grave personage, whom at some dress prevented my being able to read more of his distance I took for one of the most reserved, and cargo than the word Inspector, which was written even disagreeable figures I had seen; but as he in great letters at the top of some of the papers. He approached, his appearance improved, and when I opened the coach-door himself without any cere- could distinguish him thoroughly, I perceived that, nony, and was just slipping in, when the coach-in spite of the severity of his brow, he had one of man, with as little ceremony, pulled him back. Our the most good-natured countenances that could be figure seemed perfectly angry at this repulse, and imagined. Upon coming to open the stage door, demanded gentleman's satisfaction. "Lord, sir!" he lifted a parcel of folios into the seat before him, replied the coachman, "instead of proper luggage, but our inquisitorial coachman at once shoved them

out again. "What! not take in my Dictionary?" might be the conversation that passed upon this exexclaimed the other in a rage. "Be patient, sir," traordinary occasion; when, instead of agreeable replied the coachman, "I have drove a coach, man or entertaining dialogue, I found them grumbling and boy, these two thousand years; but I do not at each other, and each seemed discontented with remember to have carried above one dictionary his companions. Strange! thought I to myself, during the whole time. That little book which I that they who are thus born to enlighten the world, perceive peeping from one of your pockets, may should still preserve the narrow prejudices of childI presume to ask what it contains?" "A mere hood, and, by disagreeing, make even the highest trifle," replied the author; "it is called The Ram- merit ridiculous. Were the learned and the wise bler." "The Rambler!" says the coachman, "I to unite against the dunces of society, instead of beg, sir, you will take your place; I have heard our sometimes siding into opposite parties with them, ladies in the court of Apollo frequently mention they might throw a lustre upon each other's repuit with rapture and Clio, who happens to be a tation, and teach every rank of subordination melittle grave, has been heard to prefer it to the Spec- rit, if not to admire, at least not to avow dislike. tator; though others have observed, that the reflections, by being refined, sometimes become mi

nute."

(To be continued.)

A WORD OR TWO ON THE LATE
FARCE, CALLED "HIGH LIFE BE-
LOW STAIRS."

In the midst of these reflections, I perceived the coachman, unmindful of me, had now mounted the box. Several were approaching to be taken in, This grave gentleman was scarcely seated, when whose pretensions, I was sensible, were very just; another, whose appearance was something more I therefore desired him to stop, and take in more modern, seemed willing to enter, yet afraid to ask. passengers; but he replied, as he had now mount. He carried in his hand a bundle of essays, of ed the box, it would be improper to come down; which the coachman was curious enough to inquire but that he should take them all, one after the the contents. "These,” replied the gentleman, other, when he should return. So he drove are rhapsodies against the religion of my coun- away; and for myself, as I could not get in, I try." And how can you expect to come into my mounted behind, in order to hear the conversation coach, after thus choosing the wrong side of the on the way. question?" "Ay, but I am right," replied the other; "and if you give me leave I shall in a few minutes state the argument." "Right or wrong," said the coachman, "he who disturbs religion is a blockhead, and he shall never travel in a coach of mine." "If, then," said the gentleman, mustering up all his courage, "if I am not to have admittance as an essayist, I hope I shall not be repulsed as an historian; the last volume of my history met with applause." "Yes," replied the coachman, "but I have heard only the first approved at the Temple of Fame; and as I see you have it about you, enter without further ceremony." My attention was now diverted to a crowd who were pushing forward a person that seemed more inclined to the stage-coach of riches; but by their means he other, was unartful in the poet to the last degree. was driven forward to the same machine, which he, The scene was almost a continuation of the however, seemed heartily to despise. Impelled, same absurdity, and my Lord Duke and Sir Harhowever, by their solicitations, he steps up, flourish- ry (two footmen who assume these characters) ing a voluminous history, and demanding admit- have nothing else to do but to talk like their mastance. "Sir, I have formerly heard your name ters, and are only introduced to speak, and to show mentioned," says the coachman, "but never as an themselves. Thus, as there is a sameness of chahistorian. Is there no other work upon which you racter, there is a barrenness of incident, which, by may claim a place?" "None," replied the other, a very small share of address, the poet might have "except a romance; but this is a work of too tri- easily avoided.

JUST as I had expected, before I saw this farce, I found it formed on too narrow a plan to afford a pleasing variety. The sameness of the humour in every scene could not but at last fail of being disagreeable. The poor, affecting the manners of the rich, might be carried on through one character, or two at the most, with great propriety: but to have almost every personage on the scene almost of the same character, and reflecting the follies of each

fling a nature to claim future attention. "You From a conformity to critic rules, which permistake," says the inquisitor, "a well-written ro-haps on the whole have done more harm than mance is no such easy task as is generally imagin- good, our author has sacrificed all the vivacity of ed. I remember formerly to have carried Cervantes and Segrais; and, if you think fit, you may

enter

the dialogue to nature; and though he makes his characters talk like servants, they are seldom ab surd enough, or lively enough to make us merry. Though he is always natural, he happens seldom

Upon our three literary travellers coming into the same coach, I listened attentively to hear what to be humorous.

'The satire was well intended, if we regard it as so many of the ancients either not known or not being masters ourselves; but probably a philoso- understood. It was not reasonable to attempt new pher would rejoice in that liberty which English- conquests, while they had such an extensive region men give their domestics; and, for my own part, I lying waste for want of cultivation. At that pecan not avoid being pleased at the happiness of those riod, criticism and erudition were the reigning stupoor creatures, who in some measure contribute to dies of the times; and he who had only an invenmine. The Athenians, the politest and best-na- tive genius, might have languished in hopeless obtured people upon earth, were the kindest to their scurity. When the writers of antiquity were suffislaves; and if a person may judge, who has seen ciently explained and known, the learned set about the world. our English servants are the best treated, imitating them: hence proceeded the number of because the generality of our English gentlemen Latin orators, poets, and historians, in the reigns are the politest under the sun. of Clement the Seventh and Alexander the Sixth.

But not to lift my feeble voice among the pack This passion for antiquity lasted for many years, of critics, who probably have no other occupation to the utter exclusion of every other pursuit, till but that of cutting up every thing new, I must some began to find, that those works which were own, there are one or two scenes that are fine satire, imitated from nature, were more like the writings and sufficiently humorous; particularly the first in- of antiquity, than even those written in express terview between the two footmen, which at once imitation. It was then modern language began to ridicules the manners of the great, and the ab- be cultivated with assiduity, and our poets and orasurdity of their imitators.

tors poured forth their wonders upon the world.

Whatever defects there might be in the composi- As writers become more numerous, it is natural tion, there were none in the action: in this the per- for readers to become more indolent; whence must formers showed more humour than I had fancied necessarily arise a desire of attaining knowledge them capable of. Mr. Palmer and Mr. King were with the greatest possible ease. No science or art entirely what they desired to represent; and Mrs. offers its instruction and amusement in so obvious Clive (but what need I talk of her, since, without a manner as statuary and painting. Hence we the least exaggeration, she has more true humour see, that a desire of cultivating those arts generally than any actor or actress upon the English or any attends the decline of science. Thus the finest other stage I have seen)—she, I say, did the part statues and the most beautiful paintings of anall the justice it was capable of: and, upon the tiquity, preceded but a little the absolute decay of whole, a farce, which has only this to recommend every other science. The statues of Antoninus, it, that the author took his plan from the volume Commodus, and their contemporaries, are the finest of nature, by the sprightly manner in which it was productions of the chisel, and appeared but just beperformed, was for one night a tolerable entertain- fore learning was destroyed by comment, criticism. ment. This much may be said in its vindication, and barbarous invasions. that people of fashion seemed more pleased in the representation than the subordinate ranks of people.

UPON UNFORTUNATE MERIT.

EVERY age seems to have its favourite pursuits, which serve to amuse the idle, and to relieve the attention of the industrious. Happy the man who is born excellent in the pursuit in vogue, and whose genius seems adapted to the times in which he lives. How many do we see, who might have excelled in arts or sciences, and who seem furnished with talents equal to the greatest discoveries, had the road not been already beaten by their predecessors, and nothing left for them except trifles to discover, while others of very moderate abilities become famous, because happening to be first in the reigning pursuit.

Thus, at the renewal of letters in Europe, the Laste was not to compose new books, but to comment on the old ones. It was not to be expected that new books should be written, when there were

What happened in Rome may probably be the case with us at home. Our nobility are now more solicitous in patronizing painters and sculptors than those of any other polite profession; and from the lord, who has his gallery, down to the 'prentice, who has his twopenny copper-plate, all are admirers of this art. The great, by their caresses, seem insensible to all other merit but that of the pencil; and the vulgar buy every book rather from the excellence of the sculptor than the writer.

How happy were it now, if men of real excellence in that profession were to arise! Were the painters of Italy now to appear, who once wandered like beggars from one city to another, and produce their almost breathing figures, what rewards might they not expect! But many of them lived without rewards, and therefore rewards alone will never produce their equals. We have often found the great exert themselves not only without promotion, but in spite of opposition. We have often found them flourishing, like medicinal plants, in a region of savageness and barbarity, their excellence unknown, and their virtues unheeded.

They who have seen the paintings of Caravagic

are sensible of une surprising impression they make; upon this subject, instead of indulging each his bold, swelling, terrible to the last degree; all seems particular and whimsical system, it had been much animated, and speaks him among the foremost of better if the writers on this subject had treated it his profession; yet this man's fortune and his fame in a more scientific manner, repressed all the salseemed ever in opposition to each other.

lies of imagination, and given us the result of
their observations with didactic simplicity. Upon
this subject the smallest errors are of the most dan-
gerous consequence; and the author should ven-

Unknowing how to flatter the great, he was driven from city to city in the utmost indigence, and might truly be said to paint for his bread. Having one day insulted a person of distinction, ture the imputation of stupidity upon a topic, who refused to pay him all the respect which he where his slightest deviations may tend to injure thought his due, he was obliged to leave Rome, the rising generation. and travel on foot, his usual method of going his journeys down into the country, without either money or friends to subsist him.

I shall therefore throw out a few thoughts upon this subject, which have not been attended to by others, and shall dismiss all attempts to please,

After he had travelled in this manner as long as while I study only instruction.

his strength would permit, faint with famine and The manner in which our youth of London are fatigue, he at last called at an obscure inn by the at present educated is, some in free-schools in the way-side. The host knew, by the appearance of city, but the far greater number in boarding-schools his guest, his indifferent circumstances, and refused about town. The parent justly consults the to furnish him a dinner without previous payment. health of his child, and finds an education in the As Caravagio was entirely destitute of money, country tends to promote this much more than a he took down the innkeeper's sign, and painted it continuance in the town. Thus far they are anew for his dinner. right if there were a possibility of having even Thus refreshed, he proceeded on his journey, our free-schools kept a little out of town, it would and left the innkeeper not quite satisfied with this certainly conduce to the health and vigour of permethod of payment. Some company of distinc-haps the mind, as well as of the body. It may be tion, however, coming soon after, and struck with thought whimsical, but it is truth; I have found the beauty of the new sign, bought it at an ad- by experience, that they who have spent all their vanced price, and astonished the innkeeper with lives in cities, contract not only an effeminacy of their generosity: he was resolved, therefore, to get habit, but even of thinking.

as many signs as possible drawn by the same artist,

But when I have said, that the boarding-schools

as he found he could sell them to good advantage; are preferable to free-schools, as being in the counand accordingly set out after Caravagio, in order try, this is certainly the only advantage I can allow to bring him back. It was nightfall before he came them, otherwise it is impossible to conceive the up to the place where the unfortunate Caravagio ignorance of those who take upon them the imlay dead by the roadside, overcome by fatigue, re-portant trust of education. Is any man unfit for sentment, and despair.

THE BEE, No. VI.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1759.

ON EDUCATION.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE BEE.

any of the professions? he finds his last resource
in setting up school. Do any become bankrupts in
trade? they still set up a boarding-school, and drive
a trade this way, when all others fail: nay, I have
been told of butchers and barbers, who have turn-
ed schoolmasters; and, more surprising still, made
fortunes in their new profession.

Could we think ourselves in a country of civilized people; could it be conceived that we have any regard for posterity, when such are permitted to take the charge of the morals, genius, and health of those dear little pledges, who may one day be SIR, the guardians of the liberties of Europe, and who As few subjects are more interesting to society, may serve as the honour and bulwark of their aged so few have been more frequently written upon than parents? The care of our children, is it below the the education of youth. Yet is it not a little sur-state? is it fit to indulge the caprice of the ignoprising, that it should have been treated almost by rant with the disposal of their children in this parall in a declamatory manner? They have insisted ticular? For the state to take the charge of all its largely on the advantages that result from it, both children, as in Persia and Sparta, might at present to the individual and to society, and have expatiated be inconvenient; but surely with great ease it in the praise of what none have ever been so hardy might cast an eye to their instructors. Of all as to call in question. members of society, I do not know a more useful, Instead of giving us fine but empty harangues or a more honourable one, than a schoolmaster,

1

at the same time that I do not see any more ge- not, to give children a relish for learning? They nerally despised, or whose talents are so ill re- must esteem learning very much, when they see warded.

its professors used with such ceremony! If the usher be despised, the father may be assured his child will never be properly instructed.

Were the salaries of schoolmasters to be augmented from a diminution of useless sinecures, how might it turn to the advantage of this people; But let me suppose, that there are some schools a people whom, without flattery, I may in other without these inconveniences; where the master respects term the wisest and greatest upon earth! and ushers are men of learning, reputation, and But while I would reward the deserving, I would assiduity. If there are to be found such, they dismiss those utterly unqualified for their employ- cannot be prized in a state sufficiently. A boy ment: in short, I would make the business of a will learn more true wisdom in a public school in schoolmaster every way more respectable, by increasing their salaries, and admitting only men of proper abilities.

a year, than by a private education in five. It is not from masters, but from their equals, youth learn a knowledge of the world; the little tricks they There are already schoolmasters appointed, and play each other, the punishment that frequently they have some small salaries; but where at pre- attends the commission, is a just picture of the sent there is but one schoolmaster appointed, there great world, and all the ways of men are practised should at least be two; and wherever the salary is in a public school in miniature. It is true, a child at present twenty pounds, it should be a hundred. is early made acquainted with some vices in a school, Do we give immoderate benefices to those who but it is better to know these when a boy, than be instruct ourselves, and shall we deny even subsist- first taught them when a man, for their novelty ence to those who instruct our children? Every then may have irresistible charms. member of society should be paid in proportion as he is necessary and I will be bold enough to say, that schoolmasters in a state are more necessary than clergymen, as children stand in more need of instruction than their parents.

In a public education boys early learn temperance; and if the parents and friends would give them less money upon their usual visits, it would be much to their advantage, since it may justly be said, that a great part of their disorders arise from But instead of this, as I have already observed, surfeit, plus occidit gula quam gladius. And we send them to board in the country to the most now I am come to the article of health, it may not ignorant set of men that can be imagined. But be amiss to observe, that Mr. Locke and some lest the ignorance of the master be not sufficient, others have advised, that children should be inured the child is generally consigned to the usher. to cold, to fatigue, and hardship, from their youth; This is generally some poor needy animal, little but Mr. Locke was but an indifferent physiciansuperior to a footman either in learning or spirit, Habit, I grant, has great influence over our con invited to his place by an advertisement, and kept stitutions, but we have not precise ideas upon this there merely from his being of a complying dispo- subject. sition, and making the children fond of him. "You give your child to be educated to a slave," says a philosopher to a rich man; "instead of one slave, you will then have two."

We know that among savages, and even among our peasants, there are found children born with such constitutions, that they cross rivers by swimming, endure cold, thirst, hunger, and want of It were well, however, if parents, upon fixing sleep, to a surprising degree; that when they hap their children in one of these houses, would ex- pen to fall sick, they are cured without the help amine the abilities of the usher as well as of the of medicine, by nature alone. Such examples are master: for, whatever they are told to the contrary, adduced to persuade us to imitate their manner of the usher is generally the person most employed in education, and accustom ourselves betimes to suptheir education. If, then, a gentleman, upon put-port the same fatigues. But had these gentlemen ting out his son to one of these houses, sees the considered first, that those savages and peasants usher disregarded by the master, he may depend are generally not so long-lived as they who have upon it, that he is equally disregarded by the boys; led a more indolent life; secondly, that the more the truth is, in spite of all their endeavours to laborious the life is, the less populous is the counplease, they are generally the laughing-stock of try: had they considered, that what physicians the school. Every trick is played upon the usher; call the stamina vite, by fatigue and labour become the oddity of his manners, his dress, or his lan- rigid, and thus anticipate old age: that the number guage, is a fund of eternal ridicule; the master who survive those rude trials, bears no proportion himself now and then cannot avoid joining in the to those who die in the experiment: had these laugh, and the poor wretch, eternally resenting things been properly considered, they would not this ill-usage, seems to live in a state of war with have thus extolled an education begun in fatigue all the family. This is a very proper person, is it and hardships. Peter the Great, willing to inure

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