by Frank Harris
As soon as the school reassembled I was put in the upper fifth. All the boys were from two to three years older than I was, and they all made cutting remarks about me to each other and avoided speaking to «Pat.» All this strengthened my resolution to get to America as soon as I could. Meanwhile I worked as I had never worked, at Latin and Greek as well as mathematics, but chiefly at Greek, for there I was backward: by Easter I had mastered the grammar-irregular verbs and all-and was about the first in the class. My mind, too, through my religious doubts and gropings and through the reading of the thinkers had grown astonishingly: one morning I construed a piece of Latin that had puzzled the best in the class and the Doctor nodded at me approvingly. Then came the step I spoke of as decisive. The morning prayers were hardly over one bitter morning when the Doctor rose and gave out the terms of the scholarship exam at midsummer, the winner to get eighty pounds a year for three years at Cambridge, and the second ten pounds with which to buy books. «All boys,» he added,
«who wish to go in for this scholarship will now stand up and give their names.» I thought only Gordon would stand up, but when I saw Johnson get up and Fawcett and two or three others, I too got up. A sort of derisive growl went through the school; but Stackpole smiled at me and nodded his head as much as to say, «They'll see,» and I took heart of grace and gave my name very distinctly. Somehow I felt that the step was decisive. I liked Stackpole and this term he encouraged me to come to his rooms to talk whenever I felt inclined, and as I had made up my mind to use all the half-holidays for study, this association did me a lot of good and his help was invaluable.
One day when he had just come into his room, I shot a question at him and he stopped, came over to me and put his arm on my shoulder as he answered. I don't know how I knew; but by some instinct I felt a caress in the apparently innocent action. I didn't like to draw away or show him I objected; but I buried myself feverishly in the trigonometry and he soon moved away. When I thought of it afterwards I recalled the fact that his marked liking for me began after my fight with Jones. I had often been on the point of confessing to him my love-passages; but now I was glad I had kept them strenuously to myself, for day by day I noticed that his liking for me grew, or rather his compliments and flatteries increased. I hardly knew what to do: working with him and in his room was a godsend to me; yet at the same time I didn't like him much or admire him really.
In some ways he was curiously dense. He spoke of the school life as the happiest of all and the healthiest; a good moral tone here, he would say, no lying, cheating or scandal, much better than life outside. I used to find it difficult not to laugh in his face. Moral tone indeed! When the Doctor came down out of temper, it was usually accepted among the boys that he had had his wife in the night and was therefore a little below par physically. Though a really good mathematical scholar and a first rate teacher, patient and painstaking, with a gift of clear exposition, Stackpole seemed to me stupid and hidebound and soon I found that by laughing at his compliments, I could balk his desire to lavish on me his unwelcome caresses. Once he kissed me but my amused smile made him blush while he muttered shamefacedly, «You're a queer lad!» At the same time I knew quite well that if I encouraged him, he would take further liberties. One day he talked of Jones and Henry H… He had evidently heard something of what had taken place in our bedroom; but I pretended not to know what he meant and when he asked me whether none of the big boys had made up to me, I ignored big Fawcett's smutty excursions and said, «No,» adding that I was interested in girls and not in dirty boys. For some reason or other Stackpole seemed to me younger than I was and not twelve years older, and I had no real difficulty in keeping him within the bounds of propriety till the math exam. I was asked once whether I thought that «Shaddy,» as we called the housemaster, had ever had a woman. The idea of «Shaddy» as a virgin filled us with laughter; but when one spoke of him as a lover, it was funnier still. He was a man about forty, tall and fairly strong: he had a degree from some college in Manchester, but to us little snobs he was a bounder because he had not been to either Oxford or Cambridge. He was fairly capable, however. But for some reason or other he had a down on me and I grew to hate him and was always thinking of how I might hurt him. My new habit of forcing myself to watch and observe everything came to my aid. There were five or six polished oak steps up to the big bedroom where fourteen of us slept.
«Shaddy» used to give us half an hour to get into bed and then would come up, and standing just inside the door under the gaslight would ask us, «Have you all said your prayers?» We all answered: «Yes, Sir»; then would come his, «Goodnight, boys,» and our stereotyped reply,
«Goodnight, Sir.» He would then turn out the light and go downstairs to his room. The oak steps outside were worn in the middle and I had noticed that as one goes downstairs one treads on the very edge of each step. One day «Shaddy» had maddened me by giving me one hundred lines of Vergil to learn by heart for some trifling peccadillo. That night, having provided myself with a cake of brown Windsor soap, I ran upstairs before the other boys and rubbed the soap freely on the edge of the two top steps, and then went on to undress.
When «Shaddy» put out the light and stepped down to the second step, there was a slip and then a great thud as he half slid, half fell to the bottom. In a moment, for my bed was nearest the door, I had sprung up, opened the door and made incoherent exclamations of sympathy as I helped him to get up. «I've hurt my hip,» he said, putting his hand on it. He couldn't account for his fall.
Grinning to myself as I went back, I rubbed the soap off the top step with my handkerchief and got into bed again, where I chuckled over the success of my stratagem. He had only got what he richly deserved, I said to myself. At length the long term wore to its end; the exam was held and after consulting Stackpole I was very sure of the second prize. «I believe,» he said one day, «that you'd rather have the second prize than the first.» «Indeed I would,» I replied without thinking. «Why,» he asked, «why?» I only just restrained myself in time or I'd have given him the true reason. «You'll come nearer winning the scholarship,» he said at length, «than any of them guesses.» After the exams came the athletic games, much more interesting than the beastly lessons. I won two first prizes and Jones four, but I gained fifteen «seconds,» a record, I believe, for according to my age I was still in the lower school. I was fully aware of the secret of my success and, strange to say, it did not increase but rather diminished my conceit. I won, not through natural advantages but by will power and practice. I should have been much prouder had I succeeded through natural gifts. For instance, there was a boy named Reggie Miller, who at sixteen was five feet ten in height, while I was still under five feet: do what I would, he could jump higher than I could, though he only jumped up to his chin, while I could jump the bar above my head. I believed that Reggie could easily practice and then out-jump me still more. I had yet to learn in life that the resolved will to succeed was more than any natural advantage.
But this lesson only came to me later. From the beginning I was taking the highway to success in everything by strengthening my will even more than my body. Thus, every handicap in natural deficiency turns out to be an advantage in life to the brave soul, whereas every natural gift is surely a handicap. Demosthenes had a difficulty in his speech; practicing to overcome this made him the greatest of orators.
The last day came at length and at eleven o'clock all the school and a goodly company of guests and friends gathered in the schoolroom to hear the results of the examinations and especially the award of the scholarships. Though most of the boys were early at the great blackboard where the official figures were displayed, I didn't even go near it till one little boy told me shyly: «You're ahead of your form and sure of your remove.» I found this to be true, but wasn't even elated. A Cambridge professor, it appeared, had come down in person to announce the result of the math scholarship. He made a rather long talk, telling us that the difficulty of deciding had been unusually great, for there
was practical equality between two boys: indeed, he might have awarded the scholarship to Number Nine (my number) and not to Number One on the sheer merit of the work, but when he found that the one boy was under fifteen while the other was eighteen and ready for the university, he felt it only right to take the view of the headmaster and give the scholarship to the older boy, for the younger one was very sure to win it next year and even next year he would still be too young for university life. He therefore gave the scholarship to Gordon and the second prize of ten pounds to Harris. Gordon stood up and bowed his thanks while the whole school cheered and cheered again: then the examiner called on me. I had taken in the whole situation. I wanted to get away with all the money I could and as soon as I could. My cue was to make myself unpleasant: accordingly, I got up and thanked the examiner, saying that I had no doubt of his wish to be fair. «But,» I added, «had I known the issue was to be determined by age, I should not have entered. Now I can only say that I will never enter again,» and I sat down. The sensation caused by my little speech was a thousand times greater than I had expected. There was a breathless silence and mute expectancy. The Cambridge professor turned to the head of the school and talked with him very earnestly, with visible annoyance, indeed, and then rose again. «I must say,» he began, «I have to say,» repeating himself, «that I have the greatest sympathy with Harris. I was never in so embarrassing a position. I must leave the whole responsibility with the headmaster. I can't do anything else, unfortunately!» and he sat down, evidently annoyed. The Doctor got up and made a long hypocritical speech. It was one of those difficult decisions one is forced sometimes to make in life: he was sure that everyone would agree that he had tried to act fairly, and so far as he could make it up to the younger boy, he certainly would; he hoped next year to award him the scholarship with as good a heart as he now gave him his check; and he fluttered it in the air. The masters all called me and I went up to the platform and accepted the check, smiling with delight, and when the Cambridge professor shook hands with me and would have further excused himself, I whispered shyly, «It's all right, Sir, I'm glad that you decided as you did.» He laughed aloud with pleasure, put his arm round my shoulder and said: «I'm Obliged to you; you're certainly a good loser, or winner, perhaps I ought to have said, and altogether a remarkable boy. Are you really under sixteen?» I nodded smiling, and the rest of the prize-giving went off without further incident, save that when I appeared on the platform to get the form prize of books, he smiled pleasantly at me and led the cheering, I've described the whole incident, for it illustrates to me the English desire to be fair: it is really a guiding impulse in them, on which one may reckon, and so far as my experience goes, it is perhaps stronger in them than in any other race. If it were not for their religious hypocrisies, childish conventions and above all, their incredible snobbishness, their love of fair play alone would make them the worthiest leaders of humanity. All this I felt then as a boy as clearly as I see it today. I knew that the way of my desire was open to me. Next morning I asked to see the head; he was very amiable; but I pretended to be injured and disappointed. «My father,» I said,
«reckons, I think, on my success and I'd like to see him before he hears the bad news from anyone else. Would you please give me the money for my journey and let me go today? It isn't very pleasant for me to be here now.» «I'm sorry,» said the Doctor (and I think he was sorry), «of course I'll do anything I can to lighten your disappointment. It's very unfortunate but you must not be downhearted.
Professor S… says that your papers ensure your success next year, and I-well, I'll do anything in my power to help you.» I bowed:
«Thank you, Sir. Can I go today? There's a train to Liverpool at noon.» «Certainly, certainly, if you wish it,» he said. «I'll give orders immediately,» and he cashed the check for ten pounds as well, with only a word that it was nominally to be used to buy books with, but he supposed it did not matter seriously. By noon I was in the train for Liverpool with fifteen pounds in my pocket, five pounds being for my fare to Ireland. I was trembling with excitement and delight; at length I was going to enter the real world and live as I wished to live. I had no regrets, no sorrows. I was filled with lively hopes and happy presentiments. As soon as I got to Liverpool, I drove to the Adelphi Hotel and looked up the steamers and soon found one that charged only four pounds for a steerage passage to New York, and to my delight this steamer was starting next day about two o'clock. By four o'clock I had booked my passage and paid for it.
The clerk said something or other about bedding, but I paid no attention. For just on entering his office I had seen an advertisement of The Two Roses, a «romantic drama» to be played that night, and I was determined to get a seat and see it. Do you know what courage that act required? More than was needed to cut loose from everyone I loved and go to America. For my father was a Puritan of the Puritans and had often spoken of the theatre as the «open door to hell.» I had lost all belief in hell or heaven, but a cold shiver went through me as I bought my ticket and time and again in the next four hours I was on the point of forfeiting it without seeing the play. What if my father was right? I couldn't help the fear that came over me like a vapor. I was in my seat as the curtain rose and sat for three hours enraptured; it was just a romantic love-story, but the heroine was lovely and affectionate and true and I was in love with her at first sight. When the play was over I went into the street, resolved to keep myself pure for some girl like the heroine: no moral lesson I have received before or since can compare with that given me by that first night in a theatre. The effect lasted for many a month and made self-abuse practically impossible to me ever afterwards. The preachers may digest this fact at their leisure. The next morning I had a good breakfast at the Adelphi Hotel and before ten I was on board the steamer, had stowed away my trunk and taken my station by my sleeping place traced in chalk on the deck. About noon the doctor came round, a young man of good height with a nonchalant manner, reddish hair, Roman nose and easy, unconventional ways. «Whose is this berth?» he asked, pointing to mine. «Mine, Sir,» I replied. «Tell your father or mother,» he said curtly, «that you must have a mattress like this,» and he pointed to one, «and two blankets,» he added.
«Thank you, Sir,» I said and shrugged my shoulders at his interference. In another hour he came round again. «Why is there no mattress here and no blanket?» he asked. «Because I don't need 'em,» I replied. «You must have them,» he barked. «It's the rule, d'ye understand?» and he hurried on with his inspection. In half an hour he was back again. «You haven't the mattress yet,» he snarled. «I don't want a mattress,» I replied. «Where's your father or mother?» he asked. «Haven't got any,» I retorted.
«Do they let children like you go to America?» he cried. «What age are you?» I was furious with him for exposing my youth there in public before everyone. «How does it matter to you?» I asked disdainfully, «You are not responsible for me, thank God!» «I am though,» he said, «to a certain degree, at least. Are you really going to America on your own?» «I am,» I rejoined casually and rudely.
«What to do?» was his next query. «Anything I can get,» I replied. «Hm,» he muttered, «I must see to this.» Ten minutes later he returned again. «Come with me,» he said, and I followed him to his cabin-a comfortable stateroom with a good berth on the right of the door as you entered, and a good sofa opposite.
«Are you really alone?» he asked. I nodded, for I was a little afraid he might have the power to forbid me to go and I resolved to say as little as possible. «What age are you?» was his next question. «Sixteen.» I lied boldly. «Sixteen!» he repeated. «You don't look it but you speak as if you had been well educated.» I smiled; I had already measured the crass ignorance of the peasants in the steerage. «Have you any friends in America?» he asked. «What do you want to question me for?» I demanded. «I've paid for my passage and I'm doing no harm.» «I want to help you,» he said. «Will you stay here until we draw out and I get a little time?» «Certainly,» I said, «I
'd rather be here than with those louts, and if I might read your books-» I had noticed that there were two little oak bookcases, one on each side of the washing stand, and smaller books and pictures scattered about. «Of course you may,» he rejoined, and threw open the door of the bookcase. There was a Macaulay staring at me. «I know his poetry,» I said, seeing that the book contained his essays and was written in prose. «I'd like to read this.» «Go ahead,» he said smiling, «in a couple of hours I'll be back.» When he returned he found me curled upon his sofa, lost in fairyland. I had just come to the end of the essay on Clive and was breathless. «You like it?» he asked. «I should just think I did,» I replied. «It's better even than his poetry,» and suddenly I closed the book and began to recite: With all his faults, and they were neither few nor small, only one cemetery was worthy to contain his remains. In the Great Abbey- The doctor took the book from me where I held it. «Are you reciting from Clive?» he asked.
«Yes, I said, «but the essay on Warren Hastings is just as good,» and I began again: He looked like a great man, and not like a bad one. A person small and emaciated, yet deriving dignity from a carriage which, while it indicated deference to the Court, indicated also habitual self-possession and self-respect. A high and intellectual forehead, a brow pensive but not gloomy, a mouth of inflexible decision, a face on which was written as legibly as under the great picture in the Council Chamber of Calcutta, Metis aequa in arduis: such was the aspect with which the great proconsul presented himself to his judges. «Have you learned all this by heart?» cried the doctor, laughing. «I don't have to learn stuff like that,» I replied. «One reading is enough.» He stared at me.
