which all
wisdom on the plebeian side crouches in humble respect.

Year after year rolled on in pride and grandeur; the bishop and the dean
passing their time in attending levees and in talking politics; Lady
Clementina passing hers in attending routs and in talking of _herself_,
till the son arrived at the age of thirteen.

Young William passed _his_ time, from morning till night, with persons
who taught him to walk, to ride, to talk, to think like a man--a foolish
man, instead of a wise child, as nature designed him to be.

This unfortunate youth was never permitted to have one conception of his
own--all were taught him--he was never once asked, "What he thought;" but
men were paid to tell "how to think." He was taught to revere such and
such persons, however unworthy of his reverence; to believe such and such
things, however unworthy of his credit: and to act so and so, on such and
such occasions, however unworthy of his feelings.

Such were the lessons of the tutors assigned him by his father--those
masters whom his mother gave him did him less mischief; for though they
distorted his limbs and made his manners effeminate, they did not
interfere beyond the body.

Mr. Norwynne (the family name of his father, and though but a school-boy,
he was called _Mister_) could talk on history, on politics, and on
religion; surprisingly to all who never listened to a parrot or
magpie--for he merely repeated what had been told to him without one
reflection upon the sense or probability of his report. He had been
praised for his memory; and to continue that praise, he was so anxious to
retain every sentence he had heard, or he had read, that the poor
creature had no time for one native idea, but could only re-deliver his
tutors' lessons to his father, and his father's to his tutors. But,
whatever he said or did, was the admiration of all who came to the house
of the dean, and who knew he was an only child. Indeed, considering the
labour that was taken to spoil him, he was rather a commendable youth;
for, with the pedantic folly of his teachers, the blind affection of his
father and mother, the obsequiousness of the servants, and flattery of
the visitors, it was some credit to him that he was not an idiot, or a
brute--though when he imitated the manners of a man, he had something of
the latter in his appearance; for he would grin and bow to a lady, catch
her fan in haste when it fell, and hand her to her coach, as thoroughl