especially insisted upon in our elocution. Old
Bob made all his boys recite. He caused the
speaker to mount a table at one end of the
school-room, he, Old Bob, sitting at the other.
The orator had first to perform a gymnastic
feat, consisting in putting himself in the first
position, and stooping till his fingers' ends
nearly touched his instep—this was the Rood
Priory regulation-bow. He then made his
speech, lifting his arms up and down
alternately, which, if he failed to do with vigour,
Old Bob bellowed for 'Action! Action!'
The mounting on the table was intended to
cure us of bashfulness. On my first appearance
on that conspicuous altitude, my brain reeled,
and I was near falling off for very giddiness.

All this training was a preparation for the
public speaking already mentioned. We spoke
from a stage erected at the upper end of the
school. Our auditors at this exhibition were
our friends and the gentry of the neighbourhood.
We recited verses, such as 'Hohenlinden,'
and 'The Burial of Sir John Moore,'
'Edward and Warwick,' 'Brutus and Cassius,'
and divers scenes from other poets and
dramatists, ancient and modern. Whatever
was the character, the speaker appeared in
full dress. Once, the part of 'Mawworm'
was assigned to me. I enacted it with my
hair frizzled, in an olive coat, black waistcoat,
white trousers, silk stockings, and pumps.

The great attention paid by Old Bob to
our acting, seems to indicate that he supposed
we were, for the most part, intended for the
church, the bar, or political life. What opinion
then, of his system, are we to form, judged of
by its results? Did it contribute to the
formation of any great minds or distinguished
characters? At this moment I know of but
three persons of any eminence, pupils of his,
who have reflected credit upon their master.
One of these was a celebrated statesman, now
deceased, who, however, completed his
education at Eton. Another was a Greek scholar
of some repute, whether as yet surviving or
not, I am ignorant. The third is a living
ornament to his College. This last had a
natural aptitude for learning, and inasmuch
as he never needed the stimulus of the rod,
he cannot be considered indebted for his
attainments to that element in Old Bob's
method of tuition. Not one single stupid or
even idle boy, within my experience, did Old
Bob with all his flogging improve in the least;
and his severities, I am sure, disgusted some,
possessed of good abilities, with study. For
my own part, I never was flogged; but the
fear of being so kept me continually in misery:
and as long as I was subject to it, hindered
my advancement, prevented me from learning
anything with pleasure, and caused me to
look upon my tasks as impositions, and to
perform them with ill will, in a sulky,
perfunctory manner. I shall never forget the
torment I suffered in cramming long lessons
in Greek Grammar, under terror of the rod.
Exert myself as I would, I could not get
anything dry well by rote; whereas, poetry, or
whatever else interested me, I remembered
without an effort. This was lucky for me;
my good performances were a set-off against
my bad. I knew then, as well as I know now,
how worse than foolish and idiotic was the
notion of whipping a boy into parrot-learning.
I perceived then as clearly as I see at this
present time, that memory is no single power
of the mind; that there is as much of feeling
in it as of intellect; that we best remember
the ideas which we delight to dwell upon;
and that the proper way of imparting knowledge
is to render it as pleasant as possible, or
if this cannot be done, to instil it by degrees:
to administer the medicine whose flavour
you cannot disguise, in minute doses. I say,
I knew all this: judge then with what
different sentiments from those presented in the
catechism, I, a boy, looked upon my pastors
and masters, who knew it not.

But I can speak positively as well as
negatively as to the efficacy of the flogging
system. I was fast sinking into despair of
my capacity, and arming myself with dogged
obstinacy against the consequences, when
Old Bob gave up the school. His former
pupil, the Statesman, during his brief tenure
of office, had secured him a prebendal stall.
Rood Priory then came under the sole management
of James, assisted by one of his brothers.
On his retirement, Old Bob wisely dismissed
Bateson, with whom he would not trust
James. As wisely, he engaged as second
master a teacher in every respect Bateson's
opposite. This gentleman made our work as
easy to us as he could; his manner towards us
was kind and affectionate; he endeavoured to
interest us in our studies; and he urged us
to exertion by recommending proficiency for
reward, instead of giving up dulness for
punishment. Under this management, I,
previously considered a dunce, rose rapidly to the
first Part of the school; and my career
terminated in my writing the English Prize
Poem, a pretty good burlesque—though I
intended it seriously—on the more moody
portions of the writings of Lord Byron.

James did not preside over the concerns of
Rood Priory for more than a year-and-a-half.
At the end of that time he abdicated in
favour of his brother. But the latter was
quite incompetent to wield the rod of Old
Bob. He permitted a degree of license
among his subjects which soon demoralised
his empire. He then abruptly attempted to
restore discipline. The result was a rebellion.
His scholars combined against him in a regular
'barring out.' The mutiny was quelled,
and the principal insurgents were flogged.
But the affair became public, and fatally
damaged the school; which instantly fell off,
and, as certain writers phrase it, after a few
convulsive struggles, ceased to exist. And so
there was an end of Rood Priory; one of the
last, I am happy to believe, of the genuine
'good old schools.'