She and I Volume II Part 4

"Yes, sir,"--she said,--"'a clerks.h.i.+p;' and a very good thing, too! You need not turn up your nose at it, Master Frank; _I_ can see you, although I _do_ wear gla.s.ses! Grander men than you think yourself, sir, have not despised such an opening! Here _is_ the vicar,"--she added, as her brother walked into the room.--"How lucky! we can ask him now."

The vicar overheard her remark.

"Hullo, Frank!" said he; "what is it, that Sally and you are conspiring together? Can I do anything for you, my boy?"--he continued, in his nice kind way,--"if so, only ask me; and if it is in my power, you know that I will do it."

"He wishes to get into a Government office; don't you think you could help him?" said Miss Pimpernell.

"You want to be in harness, my boy, eh?"--said the vicar, turning to me.--"That's right, Frank. Literature will come on, in due course, all in good time. There's nothing like having regular work to do, however trifling. It not only gives you a daily object in life, but also steadies your mind, causing you better to appreciate higher intellectual employment! I thought, however, my boy, that you looked down on 'Her Majesty's hard bargains,' as poor Government clerks are somewhat unjustly termed?"

"That was, because I thought they were a pack of idlers, doing nothing, and earning a menial salary for it. 'Playing from ten to to four, like the fountains in Trafalgar Square,' as _Punch_ declares," I said.

"Ah!" said the vicar, "that is a mistake, as you will soon find out when you belong to their body. They _do_ work, and well, too. Many of the grand things on which departmental ministers pride themselves--and get the credit, too, of effecting by their own unaided efforts--are really achieved by the plodding office hacks, who work on unrecognised in our midst! Our whole public service is a blunder, my boy. There is no effective rise given in it to talent or merit, as is the case in other official circles. The 'big men,' who are appointed for political purposes, get on, it is true; but, the 'little men,' who labour from year's end to year's end, like horses in a mill, never have a chance of distinguis.h.i.+ng themselves. When they are of a certain age, and attain a particular height in their office, they become superannuated, and retire; for, should a vacancy occur, of a higher standing in the public secretariat, it is not given to _them_--although the training of their whole life may peculiarly fit them for the post! No, it is bestowed on some young political adherent of the party then in power, who may be as unacquainted with the duties connected with the position, as _I_ am ignorant of double fluxions! This naturally disgusts men with the service; and, that is why you generally hear Government offices spoken of as playgrounds for idle youths, who enter them to saunter through life--on the strength of the const.i.tuent-influence of their fathers on the seats of budding MP's."

"I really thought they never worked," said I. "There's Horner, for instance. You don't suppose, sir, that _he_ confers such inestimable benefit on his country by his daily avocations in Downing Street?"

"Ah, poor Jack Horner!" laughed the vicar; "he's really not very bright.

But, we need not be so uncharitable as to think that he does not do his money's worth for his money! He writes a beautiful hand, you know; and, I dare say, his mere services as a copying machine are of some value.

Government clerks do not all play every day, Frank:--you will, I'm sure, find plenty to do, if you go into office life. I remember, in the time of the Crimean war, that a friend of mine, employed in the Admiralty at Whitehall, used to have to stop up every alternate night at his office, the whole night through; and this was the case, too, at all the other public departments! The clerks in each room were obliged to take it in turn for night duty; while, those who were free to go home--and they did not leave work until long after the traditional 'four o'clock' on most days--had to specify where they could be found every evening, in case they should be suddenly wanted on the arrival of despatches from the seat of war. Of course this state of affairs is not ordinary; still, Government clerks are not idlers as a body:--on the contrary, you will find them thorough working-men."

"Working-men!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed little Miss Pimpernell, raising her beady black eyes in astonishment to her brother, "why, I thought all working- men, properly so-called, were mechanics!"

"That is the radical politician's view, my dear," answered the vicar.

"Let a man be apprenticed to a skilled trade, and carry a bricklayer's hod, or a carpenter's rule. Let him only wear slops and work in an engine-room, or use a mason's trowel--so long as he does these things and receives his wages weekly, he is a 'working-man;' and, must have the hours of labour made to suit him, the legislation of the country altered on his behalf, the taxation of the public judiciously contrived to steer clear of him. He is the typical 'working-man,' my dear, of whom demagogues are always prating:--the fetish, before which so-called 'liberal' statesmen fall down and wors.h.i.+p!

"But, your poor agricultural labourer, who lives in poverty, and dirt, and misery--starving annually on a tenth portion of the wages that the skilled mechanic gets--_he_ is no working-man; oh no! Nor the wretched London clerk; he, also, is no working-man; nor the Government hack; nor the striving, hard-worked doctor; besides, many professional men and struggling tradesmen, who, for the larger portion of their lives, inch and pinch to sc.r.a.pe out existence!

"None of these are working-men; although they work harder--and for many more hours per diem than the mechanic--on, in most instances, a less income than the happy protege of the radical law-maker gets by the addition of his weekly wages at the year's end.

"And yet, the clerks, and the struggling tradesmen, and professional men, have to pay poor-rates and house-rates, and all sorts of petty taxes, from which the fetish 'working-man' is free; besides the income- tax, which never approaches him. The latter, often getting from three to five pounds in wages, can dress as he pleases, live in a single room for five s.h.i.+llings a week, pay no rates or taxes; and may, finally, disport himself as he likes--leaving off work whenever the fancy strikes him and resuming it again at his pleasure--without consulting the convenience or the wishes of his employer, who is, through trades'

unions and special cla.s.s legislation, entirely at his mercy!

"Clerks, shopkeepers, and struggling professional men, cannot do this, however. _They_ have to conform to certain rules of society; and keep up an appearance of respectability on, frequently, half the sum that the mechanic gets in wages, as I've said already--while groaning under a burden of taxation from which the great 'liberal' fetish is completely free. _He_ is a 'working-man,' my dear:--_they_, are nothing of the sort.--Oh, no!"

"Do they really obtain such good wages?" I inquired;--"if so, what on earth do they do with the money?"

"Yes,"--said the vicar, in full swing of his favourite political argument,--"if anything, I have rather understated the case than exaggerated it. The manager of one of the telegraph-cable manufactories down the river, told me the other day, that, many of the hands drew four and five pounds regularly each Sat.u.r.day. And these men, he further informed me, spent the greater part of this in drink and pleasuring on their off-days. They will have good food and the best, too--such as I cannot afford, in these days of high butchers' bills; notwithstanding that they make such a poor show for their money, and save none of it, either! I do not complain of this, politically speaking, for, 'an Englishman's house is his castle,' you know, and he has the right to live as he pleases; but, I do say, that when poor curates and clerks are so taxed, these men ought to bear their share of the taxation, possessing, as they do, incomes quite as large and in many cases greater."

"But, they are taxed indirectly, though, are they not?"--I asked.

"Certainly; but, so also are all of us, the larger number of _real_ working-men of the country--quite in addition to the heavy burden we have to bear of local and direct taxation! The pseudo 'working-man'

should fairly contribute his quota to all this--particularly, since his bottle-holders have been so clamourous for giving him a share in the government of the state. If he wants 'a share in the government,' why, he should help to support it:--that's what I say!"

And the vicar then went off into a tirade against cla.s.s legislators and radical politics, not forgetting to animadvert, too, on the "Manchester School"--his great bete noir.

"I wonder what Mr Mawley would say, to hear you run down his favourite party so!"--I said, when he gave me another opening to put in a word.--"He's such a rabid Liberal."

"Mawley is thorough," said the vicar; "I do not agree with his views, certainly; but _he_ really believes in them and acts up to his theories, which is more than can be said for a good many of our 'Liberal'

statesmen! What can _one_ think of them when one hears them talking of 'economy,' and cutting down the poor clerk's salary, without dreaming of touching their own little snug incomes of five thousand a-year!"

"But what has all this got to do with Frank's appointment, brother?"

asked Miss Pimpernell, with a sly chuckle of satisfaction. She always said she disliked arguments; but, she was never better pleased than to hear the vicar expressing his sentiments on topics of the day. He was so earnest and delighted when he got a good listener--although, he was rather shy of speaking before strangers.

"Dear me!"--exclaimed the vicar, rubbing his forehead vigorously.--"I declare, I thought I was talking to Parole d'Honneur! You must forgive me, Frank."

"Do you think you could manage to get him an appointment, my dear?"-- repeated my little old friend, bringing the vicar back to our main question, now that she had unhorsed him from his Radical charger.

"Yes, certainly,"--replied the vicar, cordially,--"I do not see why I should not. I'll speak to the bishop to-morrow, if I can catch him in.

He's got some good influence with the ministry; and, with mine in conjunction, the two of us together ought to manage it, eh, Sally?"

"And how soon do you think, sir,"--I asked,--"would you be likely to procure it for me? I've been a long time idle; and, I am, now, anxious, you know, to make up for lost time."

Miss Pimpernell's words had thoroughly spurred me up. I wanted to set to work for Min at once.

"How soon, eh, my boy?"--said he, kindly.--"You must have some special object to be so anxious for employment! But, you need not be shy, Frank; I can guess it, I think, without your telling me; and, I'm glad of it. How soon, eh? Let me consider. If I see the bishop to-morrow, as I very likely shall, we might arrange to get you a nomination in a fortnight, I think; but, I'm certain, I can promise obtaining it within a month at the outside. Will that do, Frank?"

"Oh, thank you, sir!"--I exclaimed, in grateful gladness,--"that is ever so much sooner than I expected! I thought it might take months to get me an appointment! I shall be ready for it, however, when it comes, all the same, dear sir."

"You had better get crammed in the meantime, however, my boy," said the vicar, reflectively.

"'Get crammed,' brother!"--said Miss Pimpernell, aghast at the term, of which she clearly did not understand the slang sense. "Get crammed!

Why, what do you mean? Frank is thin, certainly, and he might be a little stouter to advantage; but, has he got to be of a particular weight, the same as the height of recruits is measured for the army?"

The vicar laughed, and held his sides in hearty merriment.--"Sally, Sally!"--he exclaimed after a while.--"You will be the death of me some day! I did not allude to physical cramming, such as the Strasbourg geese undergo; but, mental stuffing. A 'crammer' is a 'coach,' you know."

"I'm sure I don't,"--said little Miss Pimpernell, energetically;--"for, what with your crammers and coaches, I really do not know what you are speaking about!"

"Well, my dear, I'll now enlighten you,"--said the vicar, still laughing at the old lady's very natural mistake.--"Crammers and coaches, are certain high-pressure machines, in the form of man, for forcing any amount of superficial knowledge into uneducated youths within a fixed time. It is an unnatural process, resulting pretty much in the same way as does the artificial mode of fattening geese:--the latter have diseased livers; while, the subjects of high-pressure cram are usually afterwards subject to unmitigated ignorance--of the worst kind, because it pretends to learning--in addition to an insufferable pedantry, which can never convince judges acquainted with the genuine article! Ah, my dear, as Pope wisely wrote, 'a little learning is a dangerous thing!'"

"Then you mean tutors,"--said Miss Pimpernell.--"Why could you not call them by their proper name?"

"I could, my dear,"--said the vicar, good-humouredly,--"but, the term I used, is an old relic of college jargon; you see how hard it is to cure oneself of bad habits!"

"And you think Frank will want to be 'crammed,' then?"--asked Miss Pimpernell, making use of the very word she had just abused, because she thought her brother might feel hurt at her implied reproach. The dear old lady would have talked slang all day if she had believed it would have given the vicar any satisfaction!

"Yes, my dear,"--he replied.--"You see, he might have to compete for his appointment with a dozen others; and, as the examination for the civil service is now pretty stiff in its way, it would not do for him to fail.

Frank has received a good sound public school education; but, they ask so many purely-routine questions of candidates, that he had better have a tutor who makes these subjects his speciality, to put him up in the little details of the machinery."

"I never thought of that,"--said I.--"It is so long since I left school, that I fear I may be plucked!"

"Oh, you'll be quite ready for the examination in a week, my boy,"--said the vicar, to encourage me.--"The examiners only require superficial knowledge; not, honest groundwork--although, they pretend to test the effects of a 'good liberal education!' One of these public crammers would make you fit to pa.s.s in any certified time, if you could barely read and write. He would hardly require even that preliminary basis to work upon, for that matter. But, I ought not to blame them; for, I am a coach myself, or, rather, was one, once, when I had the time to read with pupils for the university. These compet.i.tive examinations are a mistake, I think,"--he continued,--"for the men who pa.s.s them the most brilliantly seldom make the best clerks, which one would imagine to be the result mainly desired. I would prefer, myself, the present middle- cla.s.s examinations at Oxford--which they lately inst.i.tuted, for discovering talent and merit--to all these hot-house tests; although, of course, I may be bia.s.sed against them, through the recollection of my old don days, when I was at college.

"Not but what the idea of throwing open all appointments in the public service is better than the former custom of close patronage. The system is only abused, that's all, in consequence of the Compet.i.tion-Wallah business being carried to excess. Your poor man, whom the change was especially supposed to benefit, has no chance now, unless he has the money to pay for the services of a crammer--be his attainments never so great. The examinations have really degenerated into a technical groove, into which aspirants have to be regularly initiated by a 'coach,' or they will never succeed in getting out of it, to receive their certificates of proficiency.

"I will write you down the name of a good man to apply to, Frank,"--he added.--"He'll pa.s.s you, I warrant, or I will eat my hat! And now I must be off, my boy. I have a lot of visiting to do to-night ere I can hope to go to bed. I'll not forget to speak to the bishop, as I have promised; and, I think, you may rely upon getting a nomination for a good office within the time I have named. Have you anything to do out, Sally--any letters to post?"--he then said, turning to his sister, and putting on the hat he had just volunteered to eat.--"No? Then I'm off.

Good-night, Frank! Mind you go to that tutor to-morrow,"--he said, handing me the address he had hastily scribbled down; and, he went out on some errand of mercy, leaving Miss Pimpernell and myself to resume our tete-a-tete conversation, which he had so satisfactorily interrupted.

"Well, Frank!"--said she, as his coat tails disappeared out of the doorway,--"will not that do for you?"

"I should just think it would!"--I replied, buoyantly;--"and I do not know how to thank you and the vicar for all your kindness. I can't tell what I should have done without your help!"