This is part 3 of 3. Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.
Tentabo tamen et hunc Aristippum, virum
quem ab omnibus doctum audio probarier,
et philosophum et rhetora, pientis quoque animi, ut
sine verbere dialecticum atque rhetorem
eum faciat, is namque casus, tempora,
et alia Donati rudimenta (ut ferunt)
iamdudum ad unguem callet. ut si fata me e
medio ferant, habeat puer vitam suam
qui suave, molliter, et honeste transigat.
(Georgius Macropedius, Rebelles 101-109)
Even so, I am also going to try this Aristippus, a teacher praised by all for his skill in philosophy and rhetoric. And he is supposed to be a pious man as well, so that he may yet make a dialectician and rhetorician out of my boy without beating him to a pulp. They say he also knows the ins and outs of the cases and the tenses and all the other fundamentals of the Latin primer, as it is called. So that, if God forbid, I should die, the boy can fend for himself and build himself a life that is pleasant, comfortable and also respectable.
This is part 2 of 3. Part 1 is here. Part 3 is here.
Nam ob istuc Dyscolum
gnatum meum, qui grandior natu est, scholis
pridem docendum tradidi, et mirum in modum
proficeret, id si liceat (heu) per improbam
didascalorum amentiam, qua tenerior
pueri cutis diverberatur, et eadem
est omnibus crudelitas doctoribus,
quasi sit rigore docendum, haud clementia.
id usque sensi a primo ad octavum ultimum,
quibus omnibus mores iidem et par rigor.
liventibus nam clunibus semper domum a
scholis puer revertitur, vibicibusque
ostendit (heu) magistri amaritudinem.
(Georgius Macropedius, Rebelles 88b-100)
For that is what I had in mind when I handed my son Dyscolus (he is the oldest one) over to be taught in school, a long time ago. And he would have done exceptionally well – if only that were possible. But alas, for the wicked, mindless attitude of the teachers who have been beating his delicate young boy’s skin – and that goes for all the instructors: the same cruelty everywhere, as if teaching were a matter of being harsh rather than being gentle. From teacher number one to teacher number eight and last, we have seen nothing but hard and cruel measures: always the same story, the lad returns home from school with his buttocks black and blue, thus showing through the punishment he receives (oh woe is me) the venom and hatred of the master. (tr. Yehudi Lindeman)
This is part 1 of 3. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here.
Cum aetatis huius et peracti temporis
rationem habeo, considero haud me paucula
Paschalia edisse ova; nam rugosa fit
cutis, genaeque flaccidae, canis quoque
respersa tempora. quin et ipse filius
iam natus annos quindecim, puellulam
me pernegat. sed neque parum accelerant mihi
gravem hanc senectutem graves curae omnium
rerum domesticarum et immitis iugum
mariti, et ingens prolium curatio,
quibus locupletandis honestandisque diu
(Georgius Macropedius, Rebelles 77-88a)
When I think of my age and all the time that has passed, I realize that I am no longer young. Too many times has Easter come and gone: my skin is getting wrinkled, my cheeks flabby and my hair is greying at the temples. That’s how it is and my son (who is fifteen) is the living proof that I am no longer a spring chicken. But this heavy old age of mine is aggravated by other matters as well: the care for all the household duties, the burden of a coarse man for a husband, and the huge responsibility for the future of my children. How to assure for them a rich and respectable life: that is the thought that keeps me awake at night. (tr. Yehudi Lindeman)