Memories: The folly of living a lie
Journalist Peter Forbes recalls a lesson well taught (and learnt) at the end of a particularly pliant cane.
It was really Brown’s fault. He should not have given me the lines. Brown was an industrious youth who believed in preparing for trouble. That was why he had all his lines written beforehand. And when he left school the lines were a legacy to me.
I got rid of quite a lot of those lines to Paddy and
old “Satan.” Then I grew bolder. I tried to pass off to old “Tet” a hundred
lines. Old “Tet” spotted them.
The Latin book went round dizzily when “Tet” called
out “Forbes!” in that ominous voice of his. “I’m afraid these lines don’t
deceive me,” he said. “You’d better see the headmaster.”
I saw “Teddy” – a kindly man who has now retired from
handling the raw material of life. He thrashed me. But the punishment didn’t
matter. He lectured me, and his lesson is one of the really vivid memories of
my schooldays.
“But sir,” I protested, “it seemed a shame to waste
those lines. And in any case I did not say they were mine.”
“Yes, of course,” murmured Teddy, as his gaze lingered
on a particularly pliant cane. “But don’t you see Forbes, that if you didn’t
tell a lie, you acted one? And that’s even meaner than telling a lie. Bend
down.”
Well, Teddy, your cane hurt like hell, but it drove
home the lesson you taught. I wish you could drive it home to the hearts of men
and women – the lesson that living lies does not pay.
As published in The
People (UK), 28 February 1932.
Picture credit: Brett Stevens
Comments
Post a Comment