AT SCHOOL
[Illustration: INNER COURT, GRAMMAR SCHOOL]
THE STRATFORD GRAMMAR SCHOOL
The Stratford Grammar School, as we have already seen (page 38
above), was an ancient institution in Shakespeare's day, having
been originally founded in the first half of the 15th century
by the Guild, and, after the dissolution of that body, created
by royal charter, in June, 1553, "The King's New School of
Stratford-upon-Avon." The charter describes it as "a certain free
grammar school, to consist of one master and teacher, hereafter
for ever to endure." The master was to be appointed by the Earl of
Warwick, and was to receive twenty pounds a year from the income
of certain lands given by the King for that purpose. A part of the
expenses of the school is to this day paid from the same royal
endowment.
The school-house stood, as it still does, close beside the Guild
Chapel, the school-rooms on the second story being originally
reached by an outside staircase, roofed with tile, which was
demolished about fifty years ago. The building was old and out
of repair in Shakespeare's boyhood. In 1568 it was partially
renovated, and while the work was going on the school was
transferred to the adjoining chapel, as it may have been under
similar circumstances on more than one former occasion. This
probably suggested Shakespeare's comparison of Malvolio to "a
pedant that keeps a school i' the church" (_Twelfth Night_, iii.
2. 80). In 1595 the holding of school in church or chapel was
forbidden by statute.
[Illustration: THE SCHOOL-ROOM AS IT WAS]
The training in an English free day-school in the time of Elizabeth
depended much on the attainments of the master, and these varied
greatly, bad teachers being the rule and good ones the exception.
"It is a general plague and complaint of the whole land," writes
Henry Peacham in the 17th century, "for, for one discreet and able
teacher, you shall find twenty ignorant and careless; who (among
so many fertile and delicate wits as England affordeth), whereas
they make one scholar, they mar ten." Roger Ascham, some years
earlier, had written in the same strain. In many towns the office
of schoolmaster was conferred on "an ancient citizen of no great
learning." Sometimes a quack conjuring doctor had the position,
like Pinch in the _Comedy of Errors_ (v. 1. 237), whom Antipholus
of Ephesus describes thus:--
"Along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac'd villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller,
A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch,
A living dead man. This pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer;
And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as 't were, out-facing me.
Cries out, I was possess'd."
Pinch is not called a schoolmaster in the text of the play, but in
the stage-direction of the earliest edition (1623) he is described,
on his entrance, as "a schoole-master call'd Pinch."
In old times the village pedagogue often had the reputation
of being a conjurer; that is, of one who could exorcise evil
spirits--perhaps because he was the one man in the village, except
the priest, who could speak Latin, the only language supposed to be
"understanded of devils."
A certain master of St. Alban's School in the middle of the 16th
century declared that "by no entreaty would he teach any scholar
he had, further than his father had learned before them," arguing
that, if educated beyond that point, they would "prove saucy rogues
and control their fathers."
The masters of the Stratford school at the time when Shakespeare
probably attended it were university men of at least fair
scholarship and ability, as we infer from the fact that they
rapidly gained promotion in the church. Thomas Hunt, who was master
during the most important years of William's school course, became
vicar of the neighboring village of Luddington. "In the pedantic
Holofernes of _Love's Labour's Lost_, Shakespeare has carefully
portrayed the best type of the rural schoolmaster, as in Pinch he
has portrayed the worst, and the freshness and fulness of detail
imparted to the former portrait may easily lead to the conclusion
that its author was drawing upon his own experience." We need not
suppose that Holofernes is the exact counterpart of Master Hunt,
but the latter was probably, like the former, a thorough scholar.
WHAT SHAKESPEARE LEARNT AT SCHOOL.
We may imagine young William wending his way to the Grammar School
for the first time on a May morning in 1571. If he was born on the
23d of April, 1564 (or May 3d, according to our present calendar),
he had now reached the age of seven years, at which he could enter
the school. The only other requirement for admission, in the case
of a Stratford boy, was that he should be able to read; and this he
had probably learned at home with the aid of a "horn-book," such as
he afterwards referred to in _Love's Labour's Lost_ (v. 1. 49):--
"Yes, yes; he teaches boys the horn-book.
What is a, b, spelt backward with the horn on its head?"
This primer of our forefathers, which continued in common use in
England down to the middle of the last century at least, was a
single printed leaf, usually set in a frame of wood and covered
with a thin plate of transparent horn, from which it got its name.
There was generally a handle to hold it by, and through a hole in
the handle a cord was put by which the "book" was slung to the
girdle of the scholar.
In a book printed in 1731 we read of "a child, in a bodice coat
and leading-strings, with a horn-book tied to her side." In 1715
we find mention of the price of a horn-book as twopence; but
Shakespeare's probably cost only half as much.
The leaf had at the top the alphabet large and small, with a list
of the vowels and a string of easy monosyllables of the _ab_, _eb_,
_ib_ sort, and a copy of the Lord's Prayer. The matter varied
somewhat from time to time.
Here is an exact reproduction of the text of one specimen, from a
recent catalogue of a London antiquarian bookseller, who prices it
at twelve guineas, or a trifle more than sixty dollars. These old
horn-books are now excessively rare, having seldom survived the
wear and tear of the nursery.
[Illustration:
+Aabcdefghijklmnopq
rsstuvwxyz& aeiou
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQ
RSTUVWXYZ
a e i o u | a e i o u
ab eb ib ob ub | ba be bi bo bu
ac ec ic oc uc | ca ce ci co cu
ad ed id od ud | da de di do du
In the Name of the Father, and of the
Son, and of the Holy Ghoſt. _Amen._
Our Father, which art in
Heaven, hallowed be thy
Name; thy Kingdom come,
thy Will be done on Earth,
as it is in Heaven. Give us
this Day our daily Bread; and
forgive us our treſpaſſes, as
we forgive them that treſpaſs
againſt us: And lead us not
into Temptation, but deliver
us from Evil. _Amen._]
The alphabet was prefaced by a cross, whence it came to be called
the Christ Cross row,[4] corrupted into "criss-cross-row" or
contracted into "cross-row"; as in _Richard III._ (i. 1. 55), where
Clarence says:--
"He harkens after prophecies and dreams,
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says a wizard told him that by G
His issue disinherited should be."
Shenstone alludes to the horn-book in _The School-mistress_:--
"Their books of stature small they take in hand,
Which with pellucid horn secured are
To save from fingers wet the letters fair."
Possibly, the boy William, instead of a horn-book, had an "A-B-C
book," which often contained a catechism, in addition to the
elementary reading matter. To this we have an allusion in _King
John_, i. 1. 196:--
"Now your traveller--
He and his toothpick at my worship's mess,
And when my knightly stomach is sufficed,
Why, then I suck my teeth and catechise
My picked man of countries: 'My dear sir,'--
Thus, leaning on my elbow, I begin,--
'I shall beseech you'--that is question now;
And then comes answer like an Absey book."
"Absey" is one of many old spellings for "A-B-C"--_abece_, _apece_,
_apecy_, _apsie_, _absee_, _abcee_, _abeesee_, etc.
It was not a long walk that our seven-year-old boy had to take in
going to school. Turning the corner of Henley Street, where his
father lives (compare the map, page 42 above), he passes into the
High Street, on which (though the street changes its name twice
before we get there) the Guildhall is situated. The adjoining Guild
Chapel is separated only by a narrow lane from the "great house,"
as it was called, the handsomest in all Stratford.
The child, as he passes that grand mansion, little dreams that,
some twenty-five years later, he will buy it for his own residence.
[Illustration: DESK SAID TO BE SHAKESPEARE'S]
The school-room probably looks much the same to-day as it did when
William studied there, the modern plastered ceiling which hid the
oak roof of the olden time having been removed. The wainscoted
walls, with the small windows high above the floor, are evidently
ancient. An old desk, which may have been the master's, and a few
rude forms, or benches, are now the only furniture; for the school
was long since removed to ampler and more convenient quarters.
A desk, said with no authority whatever to have been used by
Shakespeare, is preserved in the Henley Street house.
What did William study in the Grammar School? Not much except
arithmetic and Latin, with perhaps a little Greek and a mere
smattering of other branches.
His first lessons in Latin were probably from two well-known books
of the time, the _Accidence_ and the _Sententiæ Pueriles_. The
examination of Master Page by the Welsh parson and schoolmaster,
Sir Hugh Evans, in _The Merry Wives of Windsor_ (iv. 1) is taken
almost verbally from the _Accidence_. Mrs. Page, accompanied by her
son and the illiterate Dame Quickly, meets Sir Hugh in the street,
and this dialogue ensues:--
"_Mrs. Page._ How now, Sir Hugh! no school to-day?
_Evans._ No; master Slender is get the boys leave to play.
_Quickly._ Blessing of his heart!
_Mrs. Page._ Sir Hugh, my husband says, my son profits nothing in
the world at his book. I pray you, ask him some questions in his
accidence.
_Evans._ Come hither, William; hold up your head; come.
_Mrs. Page._ Come on, sirrah; hold up your head; answer your
master, be not afraid.
_Evans._ William, how many numbers is in nouns?
_William._ Two.
_Quickly._ Truly, I thought there had been one number more,
because they say, 'od's nouns.
_Evans._ Peace your tattlings!--What is _fair_, William?
_William._ _Pulcher._
_Quickly._ Pole-cats! there are fairer things than pole-cats,
sure.
_Evans._ You are a very simplicity 'oman; I pray you peace.--What
is _lapis_, William?
_William._ A stone.
_Evans._ And what is a stone, William?
_William._ A pebble.
_Evans._ No, it is _lapis_: I pray you remember in your prain.
_William._ _Lapis._
_Evans._ That is a good William. What is he, William, that does
lend articles?
_William._ Articles are borrowed of the pronoun; and be thus
declined, _Singulariter_, _nominativo_, _hic_, _hæc_, _hoc_.
_Evans._ _Nominativo_, _hig_, _hag_, _hog_;--pray you, mark:
_genitivo, hujus_. Well, what is your accusative case?
_William._ _Accusativo_, _hinc_.
_Evans._ I pray you, have your remembrance, child; _accusativo_,
_hung_, _hang_, _hog_.
_Quickly._ Hang-hog is Latin for bacon, I warrant you.
_Evans._ Leave your prabbles, 'oman.--What is the focative case,
William?
_William._ O!--_vocativo_, O!
_Evans._ Remember, William; focative is _caret_.
_Quickly._ And that's a good root.
_Evans._ 'Oman, forbear.
_Mrs. Page._ Peace!
* * * * *
_Quickly._ You do ill to teach the child such words.--He teaches
him to hick and to hack, which they'll do fast enough of
themselves. Fie upon you!
_Evans._ 'Oman, art thou lunatics? hast thou no understandings
for thy cases, and the numbers of the genders? Thou art as
foolish Christian creatures as I would desires.
_Mrs. Page._ Prithee, hold thy peace.
_Evans._ Show me now, William, some declensions of your pronouns.
_William._ Forsooth, I have forgot.
_Evans._ It is _qui_, _quæ_, _quod_; if you forget your _quis_,
your _quæs_, and your _quods_, you must be preeches. Go your
ways, and play; go.
_Mrs. Page._ He is a better scholar than I thought he was.
_Evans._ He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, mistress Page.
_Mrs. Page._ Adieu, good Sir Hugh."
The _Sententiæ Pueriles_ was a collection of brief sentences from
many authors, including moral and religious passages intended for
the use of the boys on Saints' days.
The Latin Grammar studied by William was certainly Lilly's, the
standard manual of the time, as long before and after. The first
edition was published in 1513, and one was issued as late as 1817,
or more than three hundred years afterward. In _The Taming of the
Shrew_ (i. 1. 167) a passage from Terence is quoted in the modified
form in which it appears in this grammar.
There are certain people, by the way, who believe that
Shakespeare's plays were written by Francis Bacon. Can we imagine
the sage of St. Albans, familiar as he was with classical
literature, going to his old Latin Grammar for a quotation from
Terence, and not to the original works of that famous playwright?
In _Love's Labour's Lost_ (iv. 2. 95) Holofernes quotes the "good
old Mantuan," as he calls him, the passage being evidently a
reminiscence of Shakespeare's schoolboy Latin. The "Mantuan" is not
Virgil, as one might at first suppose (and as Mr. Andrew Lang, who
is a good scholar, assumes in his pleasant comments on the play
in _Harper's Magazine_ for May, 1893), but Baptista Mantuanus,
or Giovanni Battista Spagnuoli (or Spagnoli), who got the name
Mantuanus from his birthplace.
He died in 1516, less than fifty years before Shakespeare was born,
and was the author of sundry _Eclogues_, which the pedants of that
day preferred to Virgil's, and which were much read in schools. The
first Eclogue begins with the passage quoted by Holofernes.
A little earlier in the same scene the old pedant gives us a
quotation from Lilly's Grammar. Other bits of Latin with which he
interlards his talk are taken, with little or no variation, from
the _Sententiæ Pueriles_ or similar Elizabethan phrase-books.
THE NEGLECT OF ENGLISH.
No English was taught in the Stratford school then, or for many
years after. It is only in our own day that it has begun to receive
proper attention in schools of this grade in England, or indeed in
our own country.
It is interesting, however, to know that the first English
schoolmaster to urge the study of the vernacular tongue was a
contemporary of Shakespeare. In 1561 Richard Mulcaster, who had
been educated at King's College, Cambridge, and Christ Church,
Oxford, was appointed head-master of Merchant-Taylors School in
London, which had just been founded as a feeder, or preparatory
school, for St. John's College, Oxford. In his _Elementarie_,
published in 1582, he has the following plea for the study of
English:--
"But because I take upon me in this Elementarie, besides some
friendship to secretaries for the pen, and to correctors for the
print, to direct such people as teach children to read and write
English, and the _reading_ must needs be such as the writing leads
unto, therefore, before I meddle with any particular precept, to
direct the reader, I will thoroughly rip up the whole certainty
of our English writings so far forth and with such assurance as
probability can make me, because it is a thing both proper to my
argument and profitable to my country. For our natural tongue
being as beneficial unto us for our needful delivery as any other
is to the people which use it; and having as pretty and as fair
observations in it as any other hath; and being as ready to yield
to any rule of art as any other is; why should I not take some
pains to find out the right writing of ours as other countrymen
have done to find the like in theirs? and so much the rather
because it is pretended that the writing thereof is marvellous
uncertain, and scant to be recovered from extreme confusion,
without some change of as great extremity?
"I mean therefore so to deal in it as I may wipe away that opinion
of either uncertainty for confusion or impossibility for direction,
that both the natural English may have wherein to rest, and the
desirous stranger may have whereby to learn. For the performance
whereof, and mine own better direction, I will first examine those
means whereby other tongues of most sacred antiquity have been
brought to art and form of discipline for their right writing, to
the end that, by following their way, I may hit upon their right,
and at the least by their precedent devise the like to theirs,
where the use of our tongue and the property of our dialect will
not yield flat to theirs.
"That done, I will set all the variety of our now writing, and the
uncertain force of all our letters, in as much certainty as any
writing can be, by these seven precepts:
"1. _General rule_, which concerneth the property and use of each
letter.
"2. _Proportion_, which reduceth all words of one sound to the same
writing.
"3. _Composition_, which teacheth how to write one word made of
more.
"4. _Derivation_, which examineth the offspring of every original.
"5. _Distinction_, which bewrayeth the difference of sound and
force in letters by some written figure or accent.
"6. _Enfranchisement_, which directeth the right writing of all
incorporate foreign words.
"7. _Prerogative_, which declareth a reservation wherein common
use will continue her precedence in our English writing as she
hath done everywhere else, both for the form of the letter, in
some places, which likes the pen better; and for the difference in
writing, where some particular caveat will check a common rule.
"In all these seven I will so examine the particularities of our
tongue, as either nothing shall seem strange at all, or if anything
do seem, yet it shall not seem so strange but that either the self
same, or the very like unto it, or the more strange than it is,
shall appear to be in those things which are more familiar unto us
for extraordinary learning than required of us for our ordinary use.
"And forasmuch as the eye will help many to write right by a
seen precedent, which either cannot understand or cannot entend
to understand the reason of a rule, therefore in the end of this
treatise for right writing I purpose to set down a general table of
most English words, by way of precedent, to help such plain people
as cannot entend the understanding of a rule, which requireth both
time and conceit in perceiving, but can easily run to a general
table, which is readier to their hand. By the which table I shall
also confirm the right of my rules, that they hold throughout, and
by multitude of examples help some in precepts."
Thirty years later, in 1612, another teacher followed Mulcaster in
advocating the study of English. This was John Brinsley, who, in
_The Grammar Schoole_, writes thus:--
"There seems unto me to be a very main want in all our grammar
schools generally, or in the most of them, whereof I have heard
some great learned men to complain; that there is no care had in
respect to train up scholars so as they may be able to express
their minds purely and readily in our own tongue, and to increase
in the practice of it, as well as in the Latin and Greek; whereas
our chief endeavour should be for it, and that for these reasons:
"1. Because that language which all sorts and conditions of men
amongst us are to have most use of, both in speech and writing, is
our own native tongue.
"2. The purity and elegance of our own language is to be esteemed
a chief part of the honour of our nation, which we all ought to
advance as much as in us lieth....
"3. Because of those which are for a time trained up in schools,
there are very few which proceed in learning, in comparison of them
that follow other callings."
Among the means which he recommends "to obtain this benefit of
increasing in our English tongue as in the Latin" are "continual
practice of English grammatical translations," and "translating and
writing English, with some other school exercises."
But, as we have seen, the study of our mother tongue continued to
be generally ignored in English schools for nearly three centuries
after Mulcaster and Brinsley had thus called attention to its
educational value.
SCHOOL LIFE IN SHAKESPEARE'S DAY.
From Brinsley's book we get an idea of the daily life of a
grammar-school boy in 1612, which probably did not differ
materially from what it was in Shakespeare's boyhood.
In his chapter "Of school times, intermissions, and recreations,"
Brinsley says: "The school-time should begin at six: all who write
Latin to make their exercises which were given overnight, in that
hour before seven." To make boys punctual, "so many of them as are
there at six, to have their places as they had them by election
or the day before: all who come after six, every one to sit as he
cometh, and so to continue that day, and until he recover his place
again by the election of the form or otherwise.[5] If any cannot be
brought by this, them to be noted in the black bill by a special
mark, and feel the punishment thereof: and sometimes present
correction to be used for terror;" that is, to frighten the rest.
The school work is to go on from six in the morning as follows:
"Thus they are to continue until nine.... Then at nine to let them
to have a quarter of an hour at least, or more, for intermission,
either for breakfast, or else for the necessity of every one,
or for honest recreation, or to prepare their exercises against
the master's coming in. After, each of them to be in his place
in an instant, upon the knocking of the door or some other sign,
... so to continue until eleven of the clock, or somewhat after,
to countervail the time of the intermission at nine;" that is,
apparently, to make the morning session full five hours.
For the afternoon the schedule is as follows: "To be again all
ready and in their places at one, in an instant; to continue until
three, or half an hour after; then to have another quarter of an
hour or more, as at nine, for drinking and necessities; so to
continue till half an hour after five: thereby in that half hour
to countervail the time at three; then to end with reading a piece
of a chapter, and with singing two staves of a Psalm: lastly, with
prayer to be used by the master."
These closing exercises would fill out the time until about six
o'clock, making the school day nearly ten hours long, exclusive
of the two intermissions at nine and three and the interval of
somewhat more than an hour at noon.
It would seem that some objection had been made to the
intermissions at nine and three, on the ground that the boys then
"do nothing but play"; but Brinsley believed that the boys did
their work the better for these brief respites from it. He adds:
"It is very requisite also that they should have weekly one part of
an afternoon for recreation, as a reward of diligence, obedience,
and profiting; and that to be appointed at the master's discretion,
either the Thursday, after the usual custom, or according to the
best opportunity of the place."
The sports and recreations of the boys are to be carefully looked
after. "Clownish sports, or perilous, or yet playing for money, are
no way to be admitted."
Of the age at which boys went to school the same writer says: "For
the time of their entrance with us, in our country schools, it
is commonly about seven or eight years old: six is very soon. If
any begin so early, they are rather sent to the school to keep
them from troubling the house at home, and from danger, and shrewd
turns, than for any great hope and desire their friends have that
they should learn anything in effect."
Seven, as we have seen, was the earliest age at which boys could be
admitted to the Stratford School.
SCHOOL MORALS.
Schoolboys in that olden time appear to have been much like those
nowadays. They sometimes played truant. Jack Falstaff, in the
_First Part of Henry IV._ (ii. 4. 450) asks: "Shall the blessed
sun of heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries?" _Micher_,
_meacher_, or _moocher_ is now obsolete, though the practice it
suggests is not; but a contemporary dictionary of _Provincial Words
and Phrases_ gives this definition of the word: "_Moocher_--a
truant; a blackberry moucher. A boy who plays truant to pick
blackberries."
Idle pupils in those days often "made shift to escape correction"
by methods not unlike those known in our modern schools. Boys who
had faithfully prepared their lessons would "prompt" others who had
been less diligent.
[Illustration: WALK ON THE BANKS OF THE AVON]
One of these fellows, named Willis, born in the same year with
Shakespeare, has recorded his youthful experience at school in a
diary written later in life which is still extant. He tells how,
after being often helped in this fashion, "it fell out on a day
that one of the eldest scholars and one of the highest form fell
out with" him "upon occasion of some boys' play abroad," and
refused to "prompt" him as aforetime. He feared that he might "fall
under the rod," but, gathering his wits together, managed to recite
his lesson creditably; and "so" he says, "the evil intended to me
by my fellow-scholar turned to my great good."
How William liked going to school we do not know, but if we are
to judge from his references to schoolboys and schooldays he had
little taste for it. In _As You Like It_ (ii. 7. 145) we have the
familiar picture of
... "the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school;"
and in _Romeo and Juliet_ (ii. 1. 156) the significant similes:--
"Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books,
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks."
Gremio, in _The Taming of the Shrew_ (iii. 2. 149), when asked if
he has come from the church, replies: "As willingly as e'er I came
from school."
SCHOOL DISCIPLINE.
Sooth to say, the schoolmasters of that time were not likely to be
remembered with much favor by their pupils in after years. There is
abundant testimony to the severity of their discipline in Ascham,
Peacham, and other writers of the 16th century.
Thomas Tusser tells of his youthful experiences at Eton in verses
that have been often quoted:
"From Paul's I went, to Eton sent,
To learn straightways the Latin phrase,
When fifty-three stripes given to me
At once I had:
For fault but small or none at all
It came to pass, thus beat I was.
See, Udall, see the mercy of thee
To me, poor lad!"
Nicholas Udall was the master of Eton at the time.
Peacham tells of one pedagogue who used to whip his boys of a cold
morning "for no other purpose than to get himself a heat." No doubt
it warmed the boys too, but it is not recorded that they liked the
method.
Some of the grammars of the period have on the title-page the
significant woodcut of "an awful man sitting on a high chair,
pointing to a book with his right hand, but with a mighty rod in
his left." Lilly's Grammar, on the other hand, has the picture
of a huge fruit-tree, with little boys in its branches picking
the abundant fruit. I hope the urchins did not find this more
suggestive of stealing apples than of gathering the rich fruit of
the tree of knowledge.
Mr. Sidney Lee remarks: "A repulsive picture of the terrors which
the schoolhouse had for a nervous child is drawn in a 'pretie and
merry new interlude' entitled 'The Disobedient Child, compiled by
Thomas Ingeland, late student in Cambridge,' about 1560. A boy who
implores his father not to force him to go to school tells of his
companions' sufferings there--how
"'Their tender bodies both night and day
Are whipped and scourged, and beat like a stone,
That from top to toe the skin is away;'
and a story is repeated of how a scholar was tormented to death by
'his bloody master.' Other accounts show that the playwright has
not gone far beyond the fact."
We will try to believe, however, that Master Hunt of Stratford was
of a milder disposition. Holofernes seems well disposed towards
his pupils, and is invited to dine with the father of one of
them; and Sir Hugh Evans, in his examination of William Page, has
a very kindly manner. It is to be noted, indeed, that in few of
Shakespeare's references to school life is there any mention of
whipping as a punishment.
Roger Ascham, in his _Scholemaster_, advocated gentler discipline
than was usual in the schools of his day. His book, indeed, owed
its origin to his interest in this matter.
In 1563, Ascham, who was then Latin Secretary to Queen Elizabeth,
was dining with Sir William Cecil (afterwards Lord Burleigh),
when the conversation turned to the subject of education, from
news of the running away of some boys from Eton, where there
was much beating. Ascham argued that young children were sooner
allured by love than driven by beating to obtain good learning.
Sir Richard Sackville, father of Thomas Sackville, said nothing at
the dinner-table, but he afterwards drew Ascham aside, agreed with
his opinions, lamented his own past loss by a harsh schoolmaster,
and said, Ascham tells us in the preface to his book: "'Seeing it
is but in vain to lament things past, and also wisdom to look to
things to come, surely, God willing, if God lend me life, I will
make this my mishap some occasion of good hap to little Robert
Sackville, my son's son. For whose bringing up I would gladly,
if it so please you, use specially your good advice. I hear say
you have a son much of his age [Ascham had three little sons];
we will deal thus together. Point you out a schoolmaster who by
your order shall teach my son's son and yours, and for all the
rest I will provide, yea, though they three do cost me a couple of
hundred pounds by year; and besides you shall find me as fast a
friend to you and yours as perchance any you have.' Which promise
the worthy gentleman surely kept with me until his dying day." The
conversation ended with a request that Ascham would "put in some
order of writing the chief points of this our talk, concerning
the right order of teaching and honesty of living, for the good
bringing up of children and young men."
Ascham accordingly wrote _The Scholemaster_, which was published in
1570 (two years after his death) by his widow, with a dedication to
Sir William Cecil.
In the very first page of the book, Ascham, referring to training
in "the making of Latins," or writing the language, says: "For the
scholar is commonly beat for the making, when the master were more
worthy to be beat for the mending or rather marring of the same;
the master many times being as ignorant as the child what to say
properly and fitly to the matter."
Again he says: "I do gladly agree with all good schoolmasters in
these points: to have children brought to good perfectness in
learning; to all honesty in manners; to have all faults rightly
amended; to have every vice severely corrected; but for the order
and way that leadeth rightly to these points we somewhat differ.
For commonly, many schoolmasters--some, as I have seen, more, as
I have heard tell--be of so crooked a nature, as, when they meet
with a hard-witted scholar, they rather break him than bow him,
rather mar him than mend him. For when the schoolmaster is angry
with some other matter, then will he soonest fall to beat his
scholar; and though he himself should be punished for his folly,
yet must he beat some scholar for his pleasure, though there be no
cause for him to do so, nor yet fault in the scholar to deserve so.
These, you will say, be fond [that is, foolish] schoolmasters, and
few they be that be found to be such. They be fond, indeed, but
surely over many such be found everywhere. But this will I say,
that even the wisest of your great beaters do as oft punish nature
as they do correct faults. Yea, many times the better nature is
sorely punished; for, if one, by quickness of wit, take his lesson
readily, another, by hardness of wit, taketh it not so speedily,
the first is always commended, the other is commonly punished;
when a wise schoolmaster should rather discreetly consider the
right disposition of both their natures, and not so much weigh what
either of them is able to do now, as what either of them is likely
to do hereafter. For this I know, not only by reading of books in
my study, but also by experience of life abroad in the world, that
those which be commonly the wisest, the best learned, and best men
also, when they be old, were never commonly the quickest of wit
when they were young."
The result of ordinary school training, with the free use of the
rod, as Ascham says, is that boys "carry commonly from the school
with them a perpetual hatred of their master and a continual
contempt for learning." He adds: "If ten gentlemen be asked why
they forget so soon in court that which they were learning so
long in school, eight of them, or let me be blamed, will lay the
fault on their ill handling by their schoolmasters." The sum of
the matter is that "learning should be taught rather by love than
fear," and "the schoolhouse should be counted a sanctuary against
fear."
But Ascham, like Mulcaster and Brinsley, was far in advance of his
age, and it is doubtful whether his wise counsel with regard to
methods of discipline met with any greater favor among teachers
than theirs concerning the importance of the study of English.
WHEN WILLIAM LEFT SCHOOL.
How long William remained in the Grammar School we do not know, but
probably not more than six years, or until he was thirteen. In 1577
his father was beginning to have bad luck in his business, and the
boy very likely had to be taken from school for work of some sort.
As Ben Jonson says, Shakespeare had "small Latin and less
Greek"--perhaps none--and this was probably due to his leaving the
Grammar School before the average age. However that may have been,
we may be pretty sure that all the regular schooling he ever had
was got there.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] Some believe it got the name from having the letters arranged
in the form of a cross, as they sometimes were; but the other
explanation seems to me the more probable.
[5] In a preceding chapter we are told that it was a rule for "all
of a form to name who is the best of their form, and who is the
best next him."