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corrected by reproof, he, like the very worst of slaves, will be hardened even against blows themselves.” And afterwards, “ Pudet dicere in que probra nefandi homines isto cedendi jure abutantur;" i. e. “I blush to say how shamefully those wicked men abuse the power of correction.”
I was bred myself, sir, in a very great school*, of which the master was a Welshman, but certainly descended from a Spanish family, as plainly appeared from his temper as well as his name t. I leave you to judge what sort of a school-master a Welshman ingrafted on a Spaniard would make. So very dreadfui had he niade himself to me, that although it is above twenty years since I felt his heavy hånd, yet still once a month at least I dream of him, so strong an impression did he make on my mind. It is a sign he has fully terrified me waking, who still continues to baunt me sleeping.
And yet I may say without vanity, that the business of the school was what I did without great difficulty; and I was not remarkably unlucky; and yet such was the master's severity, that once a month, or oftener, Í suffered as much as would have satisfied the law of the land for a petty larceny.
Many a white and tender hand, which the fond mother had passionately kissed a thousand and a thousand times, have I seen whipped until it was covered with blood; perhaps for smiling, or for going a yard and a half out of a gate, or for writing an o for an A, or an A for an o. These were our great faults! Many a brave and noble spirit has been there broken; others have run from thence and were never heard of afterwards. It is a worthy attempt to undertake the cause of distressed youth ;
+ Dr. Charles Roderick, master, the provost of Eton-school, and afterwards master of King's-college, Cambridge.
and it is a noble piece of knight-errantry to enter
(MR. SPECTATOR, Richmond, Sept. 5, 1711.
age, and have for this last year been under the tuition of a doctor of divinity, who has taken the school of this place under his care*. From the gentleman's great tenderness to me and friendship to my father, I am very happy in learning my book with pleasure. We never leave off our diversions any farther than to salute hinı at hours of play when he pleases to look
It is impossible for any of us to love our own parents better than we do him. He never gives any of us a harsh word, and we think it the greatest punishment in the world when he will not speak to any
of us. My brother and I are both together inditing this letter. He is a year older than I am, but is now ready to break his heart that the doctor has not taken any notice of him these three days.
If you please to print this he will see it, and, we hope, taking it for
* This was Dr. Nicholas Brady, who joined in the new ver, sion of the Psalms, and was author of several yolumes of sermons. * This was the Water-theatre, a famous shew of those times, invented by one Mr. Winstanley, and exhibited at the lower end of Piccadilly; consisting of sea-gods, goddesses, nymphs, mermaids, tritons, &c. playing and spouting out water, and fire mingled with water, &c. performed every evening between five and six.
my brother's earnest desire to be restored to bis favour, he will again smile upon him.
Your most obedient servant,
*You have represented several sorts of impertinents singly, I wish you would now proceed and describe some of them in sets. It often happens in public assemblies, that a party who came thither together, or whose impertinencies are of an equal pitch, act in concert, and are so full of themselves as to give disturbance to all that are about them. Sometimes you have a set of whisperers who lay their heads together in order to sacrifice every body within their observation; sometimes a set of laughers that keep up an insipid mirth in their own corner, and by their noise and gestures shew they have no respect for the rest of the company. You frequently meet with these sets at the opera, the play, the water-works *, and other public meetings, where their whole business is to draw off the attention of the spectators from the entertainment, and to fix it
themselves; and it is to be observed that the impertinence is ever loudest, when the set happens to be made up of three or four females who have got what you call a woman's man among them.
• I am at a loss to know from whom people of fortune should learn this behaviour, unless it be from
the footmen who keep their places at a new play, and are often seen passing away their time in sets at allfours in the face of a full house, and with a perfect disregard to the people of quality sitting on each side of them.
* For preserving therefore the decency of public assemblies, methinks it would be but reasonable that those who disturb others should pay at least a double price for their places; or rather women of birth and distinction should be informed, that a levity of behaviour in the eyes of people of understanding degrades them below their meanest attendants; and gentlemen should know that a fine coat is a livery, when the person who wears it discovers no higher sense than that of a footman.
I am, sir,
Your most humble servant.'
MR. SPECTATOR, Bedfordshire, Sept. 1, 1711.
I AM one of those whom every body calls a poacher, and sometimes go out to course with a brace of greyhounds, a mastiff, and a spaniel or two; and when I am weary with coursing, and have killed hares enough *, go to an alehouse to refresh myself. I beg the favour of you (as you set up for a reformer) to send us word how many dogs you will allow us to go with, how many full pots of ale to drink, and how many hares to kill in a day, and you will do a great piece of service to all the sportsmen. Be quick then, for the time of coursing is come on.
Yours in haste,
N° 169. THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1711.
Sic vita erut: facilè omnes perferre ac pati:
TER. Andr. Act. i. Sc. l. His manner of life was this: to bear with every body's humours; to comply with the inclinations and pursuits of those he conversed with; to contradict no body; never to assume a superiority over others. This is the ready way to gain applause, without exciting envy. MAN is subject to innumerable pains and sorrows by the very condition of humanity, and yet, as if nature had not sown evils enough in life, we are continually adding grief to grief, and aggravating the common calaniity by our cruel treatment of one another. Every man's natural weight of afflictions is still made more heavy by the envy, malice, treachery, or injustice of his neighbour. At the same time that the storni beats upon the whole species, we are falling foul upon one another.
Half the misery of human life might be extinguished, would men alleviate the general curse, they lie under, by mutual offices of compassion, benevolence, and humanity. There is nothing therefore which we ought more to encourage in ourselves and others, than that disposition of mind which in our language goes under the title of good-nature, and which I shall choose for the subject of this day's speculation.