Let me talk as an Old Harrovian, an
old Manorite who remembers everything, ay--everything, good and bad.
Some lucky fellows remember the good only; we call them optimists.
Others remember the bad. Pessimists those. Put me between the two.
The other day I had an eye, _one_ eye, fixed on the top of a certain
peak--by Jove! how I longed to reach that peak!--but the other eye was
on a _crevasse_ at my feet. Had I kept both eyes on the peak, I should
be lying now at the bottom of that _crevasse_. You take me? Well,
twenty years ago I sat here, in hall, my last night in the old house,
and I hoped that one day I might come back. Why? This is between
ourselves, a confidence. I came to the Manor from a beastly school,
such schools are hardly to be found nowadays--a hardened young sinner
at thirteen. The Manor licked me into shape. Speaking generally, I
suppose the tone of the house insensibly communicated itself to me.
The Manor was cock-house at games and work. I began by shirking both.
But the spirit of the Hill was too much for me. I couldn't shirk that.
Some jolly old boys, we all know them and like them, are always saying
that their early school-days were the happiest of their life. They're
fond of telling this big lie just as they're settling down to their
claret. I really believe that they believe what they say, but it is a
lie. The smallest boy here knows it's a lie. Let's hark back a bit.
I said I was licked into shape--and I mean _licked_. I had a lot of
really hard fagging--much harder than any of you boys know--I was sent
up and swished, I had whoppings innumerable, and it wasn't pleasant.
My mother had pinched herself to send me here, because my father had
been here before me; and I wondered why she did it. At that time I
couldn't see why cheaper schools shouldn't be not only as good as
Harrow, but perhaps better. Not till I was in the Fifth did I get a
glimmering of what my mother and the Manor were doing for me. When I
got into the Sixth and into the Eleven, I knew. And my last year here
made up, and more too, for the previous four. I enjoyed that year
thoroughly. I had ceased to be a slacker. I tell you, all of you,
that happiness, like liberty, must be earned before we can enjoy it.
And you are sent here to earn it. I'm not going to keep you much
longer. I have come to the marrow of the matter. I owe the Manor a
debt which I hope to pay to--you. Just as you, in turn, will pay back
to b