judge是什么意思Harrow丘吉尔在哈罗公学的日子

Harrow

by Winston Churchill

I had scarcely passed my twelfth birthday when I entered the inhospitable regions of examinations, through which for the

next seven years I was destined to journey. These examinations were a great trial to me. The subjects which were dearest the

examiners

were

almost

invariably

those

I

fancied

least.

I

would

have

liked

to

have

been

examined

in

history,

poetry,

and

writing essays. The examiners, on the other hand, were partial to Latin and mathematics. And their will prevailed. Moreover,

the

questions

which

they

asked

on

both

these

subjects

were

almost

invariably

those

to

which

I

was

unable

to

suggest

a

satisfactory answer. I should have liked to be asked to say what I knew. They always tried to ask what I did not know. When I

would have willingly displayed my knowledge, they sought to expose my ignorance. This sort of treatment had only one result:

I did not do well in examinations.

This

was

especially

true

of

my

entrance

examination

to

Harrow

[1]

.

The

headmaster,

Dr.

Welldon,

however,

took

a

broad-minded view of my Latin prose: he showed discernment in judging my general ability. This was the more remarkable,

because I was found unable to answer a single question in the Latin paper. I wrote my name at the top of the page. I wrote down

the number of the question “I.” After much reflection I put a bracket round it thus “(I.)” But thereafter I could not think o

f

anything

connected

with

it

that

was

either

relevant

or

true.

Incidentally

there

arrived

from

nowhere

in

particular

a

blot

and

several smudges. I gazed for two whole hours at this sad spectacle; and then merciful ushers collected my piece of foolscap

with

all

the

others

and

carried

it

up

to

the

headmaster’s

table.

It

was

from

these

slender

indications

of

scholarship

that

Dr

.

Welldon drew the conclusion that I was worthy to pass into Harrow. It is very much to his credit. It showed that he was a man

capable

of

looking

beneath

the

surface

of

things:

a

man

not

dependent

upon

paper

manifestations.

I

have

always

had

the

greatest regard for him.

In consequence of his decision, I was in due course placed in the third, or lowest, division of the Fourth, or bottom, Form.

The names of the new boys were printed in the school list in alphabetical order; and as my correct name, Spencer-Churchill,

began with an “S”, I gained no more advantage from the alphabet than from the wider sphere of letters. I was in fact only two

from the bottom of the whole school; and these two, I regret to say, disappeared almost immediately through illness or some

other cause.

The Harrow custom of calling the roll is different from that of Eton. At Eton the boys stand in a cluster and lift their hats

when their names are called. At Harrow they file past a master in the school yard and answer one by one. My position was

therefore revealed in its somewhat invidious humility. It was the year 1887. Lord Randolph Churchill had only just resigned his

position as Leader of the House of Commons and Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he still towered in the forefront of politics.

In consequence large numbers of visitors of both sexes used to wait on the school steps, in order to see me march by; and I

frequently heard the irreverent comment, “Why, he’s last of all!”

I continued in this unpretentious situation for nearly a year. However, by being so long in the lowest form I gained an

immense advantage over the cleverer boys. They all went on to learn Latin and Greek and splendid things like that. But I was

taught English. We were considered such dunces that we could learn only English. Mr. Somervell

–

a most delightful man, to

whom my debt is great

–

was charged with the duty of teaching the stupidest boys the most disregarded thing

–

namely, to write

mere English. He knew how to do it. He taught it as no one else has ever taught it. Not only did we learn English parsing

[2]

thoroughly, but we also practiced continually English analysis. Mr. Somervell had a system of his own. He took a fairly long

sentence and broke it up into its components by means of black, red, blue, and green inks. Subject, verb, object: relative clauses,

conditional clauses, conjunctive and disjunctive clauses! Each had its color and its bracket. It was a kind of drill. We did

it

almost daily. As I remained in the Third Fourth three times as long as anyone else, I had three times as much of it. I learned it

thoroughly. Thus I got into my bones the essential structure of the ordinary British sentence

–

which is a noble thing. And when

in after years my schoolfellows who had won prizes and distinction for writing such beautiful Latin poetry and pithy

[3]

Greek

epigrams

had

to

come

down

again

to

common

English,

to

earn

their

living

or

make

their

way,

I

did

not

feel myself

at

any

disadvantage. Naturally I am biased in favor of boys learning English. I would make them all learn English; and then I would

let the clever ones learn Latin as an honor, and Greek as a treat. But the only thing I would whip them for would be for not

knowing English. I would whip them hard for that.

I first went to Harrow in the summer term. The school possessed the biggest swimming-bath I had ever seen. It was more

like the bend of a river than a bath, and it had two bridges across it. Thither we used to repair for hours at a time and bask

between our dips eating enormous buns on the hot asphalt margin. Naturally it was a good joke to come up behind some naked

friend, or even enemy, and push him in. I make quite a habit of this with boys of my own size or less. One day when I had been

no more than a month in the school, I saw a boy standing in a meditative posture wrapped in a towel on the very brink. He was

no bigger than I was, so I thought him fair game. Coming stealthily behind I pushed him in, holding on to his towel out of

humanity, so that it should not get wet. I was startled to see a furious face emerge from the foam, and a being evidently of

enormous strength making its way by fierce strokes to the shore. I fled, but in vain. Swift as the wind my pursuer overtook me,

seized me in a ferocious grip, and hurled me into the deepest part of the pool. I soon scrambled out on the other side, and found

myself surrounded by an agitated crowd of younger boys. “You’re in for it,” they said. “Do you know what you have done? It’s

Amery, he’s in the Sixth Form. He is head of his House; he is champion at gym; he has got his football colors.” They continued

to

recount

his

many

titles

to

fame

and

reverence

and

to

dilate

upon

[4]

the

awful

retribution

that

would

fall

upon

me.

I

was

convulsed not only with terror, but with the guilt of sacrilege

[5]

. How could I tell his rank when he was in a bath towel and so

small? I determined to apologize immediately. I approached the potentate in lively trepidation

[6]

. “I am very sorry,” I said. “I

mistook you for a Fourth Form boy. You are so small.” He did not seem

at all placated by this; so I added in a most brilliant

recovery, “My father, who is a great man, is also small.” At this he laughed, and after some general remarks about my “cheek”

and how I had better be careful in the future, signified that the incident was closed.

I have been fortunate to see a good deal more of him, in times when three years’ difference in age is not so important as it

is at school. We were afterwards to be Cabinet colleagues for a good many years.

It was thought incongruous that while I apparently stagnated in the lowest form, I should gain a prize open to the whole

school for reciting to the headmaster twelve hundred lines of Macaulay’s “Lays of Ancient Rome” without making a single

mistake. I also succeeded in passing the preliminary examination for the army while still almost at the bottom of the school.

This examination seemed to have called forth a very special effort on my part, for many boys far above me in the school failed

in it. I also had a piece of good luck. We knew that among other questions we should be asked to draw from memory a map of

some country or other. The night before by way of final preparation I put the names of all the maps in the atlas into a hat and

drew out New Zealand. I applied my good memory to the geography of that dominion. Sure enough, the first question in the

paper was: “Draw a map of New Zealand.” This was what is called at Monte Carlo an

en plein

[7]

, and I ought to have been paid

thirty- five times my stake. However, I certainly got paid very high marks for my paper.

I was now embarked on a military career. This orientation was entirely due to my collection of soldiers. I had ultimately

nearly fifteen hundred. They were all of one size, all British, and organized as an infantry division with a cavalry brigade. My

brother

Jack

commanded

the

hostile

army.

But

by

a

Treaty

for

the

Limitation

of

Armaments

he

was

only

allowed

to

have

colored troops, and they were not allowed to have artillery. Very important! I could muster myself only eighteen field guns

–

besides

fortress

pieces.

But

all

the

other

services

were

complete

–

except

one.

It

is

what

every

army

is

always

short

of

–

transport. My father’s old friend, Sir Henry Drummond Wolff, admiring my array, noticed this deficiency and provided a fund

from which it was to some extent supplied.

The

day

came

when

my

father

himself

paid

a

formal

visit

of

inspection.

All

the

troops

were

arranged

in

the

correct

formation

of

attack.

He

spent

twenty

minutes

studying

the

scene

–

which

was

really

impressive

–

with

a

keen

eye

and

captivating smile. At the end he asked me if I would like to go into the army. I thought it would be splendid to command an

army, so I said “Yes” at once; and immediately I was taken at my word. For years I thought my father with his expe

rience and

flair had discerned in me the qualities of military genius. But I was told later that he had only come to the conclusion that I was

not clever enough to go to the bar. However that may be, the toy soldiers turned the current of my life. Henceforward all my