a treatise on parents and children(父母与子女专题研究)-第5章
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than the children of sentimental people who are always anxious and
miserable about their duty to their children； and who end by neither
making their children happy nor having a tolerable life for themselves。 A
selfish tyrant you know where to have； and he （or she） at least does not
confuse your affections； but a conscientious and kindly meddler may
literally worry you out of your senses。 It is fortunate that only very few
parents are capable of doing what they conceive their duty continuously or
even at all； and that still fewer are tough enough to ride roughshod over
their children at home。
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School
But please observe the limitation 〃at home。〃 What private amateur
parental enterprise cannot do may be done very effectively by organized
professional enterprise in large institutions established for the purpose。
And it is to such professional enterprise that parents hand over their
children when they can afford it。 They send their children to school； and
there is； on the whole； nothing on earth intended for innocent people so
horrible as a school。 To begin with； it is a prison。 But it is in some
respects more cruel than a prison。 In a prison； for instance； you are not
forced to read books written by the warders and the governor （who of
course would not be warders and governors if they could write readable
books）； and beaten or otherwise tormented if you cannot remember their
utterly unmemorable contents。 In the prison you are not forced to sit
listening to turnkeys discoursing without charm or interest on subjects that
they dont understand and dont care about； and are therefore incapable of
making you understand or care about。 In a prison they may torture your
body； but they do not torture your brains； and they protect you against
violence and outrage from your fellow prisoners。 In a school you have
none of these advantages。 With the world's bookshelves loaded with
fascinating and inspired books； the very manna sent down from Heaven to
feed your souls； you are forced to read a hideous imposture called a school
book； written by a man who cannot write： a book from which no human
being can learn anything： a book which； though you may decipher it；
you cannot in any fruitful sense read； though the enforced attempt will
make you loathe the sight of a book all the rest of your life。 With
millions of acres of woods and valleys and hills and wind and air and birds
and streams and fishes and all sorts of instructive and healthy things easily
accessible； or with streets and shop windows and crowds and vehicles and
all sorts of city delights at the door； you are forced to sit； not in a room
with some human grace and comfort or furniture and decoration； but in a
stalled pound with a lot of other children； beaten if you talk； beaten if you
move； beaten if you cannot prove by answering idiotic questions that even
when you escaped from the pound and from the eye of your gaoler； you
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were still agonizing over his detestable sham books instead of daring to
live。 And your childish hatred of your gaoler and flogger is nothing to his
adult hatred of you； for he is a slave forced to endure your society for his
daily bread。 You have not even the satisfaction of knowing how you are
torturing him and how he loathes you； and you give yourself unnecessary
pains to annoy him with furtive tricks and spiteful doing of forbidden
things。 No wonder he is sometimes provoked to fiendish outbursts of
wrath。 No wonder men of downright sense； like Dr Johnson； admit that
under such circumstances children will not learn anything unless they are
so cruelly beaten that they make desperate efforts to memorize words and
phrases to escape flagellation。 It is a ghastly business； quite beyond
words； this schooling。
And now I hear cries of protest arising all round。 First my own
schoolmasters； or their ghosts； asking whether I was cruelly beaten at
school？ No； but then I did not learn anything at school。 Dr Johnson's
schoolmaster presumably did care enough whether Sam learned anything
to beat him savagely enough to force him to lame his mind for Johnson's
great mind _was_ lamedby learning his lessons。 None of my
schoolmasters really cared a rap （or perhaps it would be fairer to them to
say that their employers did not care a rap and therefore did not give them
the necessary caning powers） whether I learnt my lessons or not； provided
my father paid my schooling bill； the collection of which was the real
object of the school。 Consequently I did not learn my school lessons；
having much more important ones in hand； with the result that I have not
wasted my life trifling with literary fools in taverns as Johnson did when
he should have been shaking England with the thunder of his spirit。 My
schooling did me a great deal of harm and no good whatever： it was
simply dragging a child's soul through the dirt； but I escaped Squeers and
Creakle just as I escaped Johnson and Carlyle。 And this is what happens
to most of us。 We are not effectively coerced to learn： we stave off
punishment as far as we can by lying and trickery and guessing and using
our wits； and when this does not suffice we scribble impositions； or suffer
extra imprisonments〃keeping in〃 was the phrase in my timeor let a
master strike us with a cane and fall back on our pride at being able to hear
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it physically （he not being allowed to hit us too hard） to outface the
dishonor we should have been taught to die rather than endure。 And so
idleness and worthlessness on the one hand and a pretence of coercion on
the other became a despicable routine。 If my schoolmasters had been
really engaged in educating me instead of painfully earning their bread by
keeping me from annoying my elders they would have turned me out of
the school； telling me that I was thoroughly disloyal to it； that I had no
intention of learning； that I was mocking and distracting the boys who did
wish to learn； that I was a liar and a shirker and a seditious little nuisance；
and that nothing could injure me in character and degrade their occupation
more than allowing me （much less forcing me） to remain in the school
under such conditions。 But in order to get expelled； it was necessary
commit a crime of such atrocity that the parents of other boys would have
threatened to remove their sons sooner than allow them to be
schoolfellows with the delinquent。 I can remember only one case in
which such a penalty was threatened； and in that case the culprit； a boarder；
had kissed a housemaid； or possibly； being a handsome youth； been kissed
by her。 She did not kiss me； and nobody ever dreamt of expelling me。
The truth was； a boy meant just so much a year to the institution。 That
was why he was kept there against his will。 That was why he was kept
there when his expulsion would have been an unspeakable relief and
benefit both to his teachers and himself。
It may be argued that if the uncommercial attitude had been taken； and
all the disloyal wasters and idlers shewn sternly to the door； the school
would not have been emptied； but filled。 But so honest an attitude was
impossible。 The masters must have hated the school much more than the
boys did。 Just as you cannot imprison a man without imprisoning a
warder to see that he does not escape； the warder being tied to the prison
as effectually by the fear of unemployment and starvation as the prisoner
is by the bolts and bars； so these poor schoolmasters； with their small
salaries and large classes； were as much prisoners as we were； and much
more responsible and anxious ones。 They could not impose the heroic
attitude on their employers； nor would they have been able to obtain
places as schoolmasters if their habits had been heroic。 For the best of
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them their employment was provisional： they looked forward to
escaping from it into the pulpit。 The ablest and most impatient of them
were often so irritated by the awkward； slow…witted； slovenly boys： that
is； the ones that required special consideration and patient treatment； that
they vented their irritation on them ruthlessly； nothing being easier than to
entrap or bewilder such a boy into giving a pretext for punishing him。
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My Scholastic Acquirements
The results； as far as I was concerned； were what might have been
expected。 My school made only the thinnest pretence of teaching
anything but Latin and Greek。 When I went there as a very small boy I
knew a good deal of Latin grammar which I had been taught in a few
weeks privately by my uncle。 When I had been several years at school
this same uncle examined me and discovered that the net result of my
schooling was that I had forgotten what he had taught me； and had learnt
nothing else。 To
