CHAPTER THREE.
"NIL DESPERANDUM."
To-morrow's sun shall warmer glow, And o'er this gloomy vale of woe Diffuse a brighter ray!
"O you lovers, you lovers!"--exclaimed little Miss Pimpernell, on myunbosoming myself to her, and recounting the incidents of my unhappyinterview with Min's mother, shortly after I quitted the scene of mydiscomfiture.--"O you lovers, you lovers! You are always, either on theheights of ecstasy, or deep down in the depths of despair! Be a man,Frank, and let her see what noble stuff there is in you! There isnothing in this world worth the having, which can be obtained by merelylooking at it and longing for it. Bear in mind Monsieur Parole'sfavourite proverb, `On ne peut pas faire une omelette sans casser lesoeufs!' You mustn't expect that a girl is going to drop into yourmouth, like a ripe cherry, the moment you gape for her! Young ladiesare not so easily won as that, Master Frank, let me tell you! Put yourshoulder to the wheel, my boy! You will have to work and wait.Remember how long it was that Jacob remained in suspense about his firstlove, Rachel--seven, long years; and, _then_, he had to serve seven morefor her after that!"
"Ah, Miss Pimpernell!"--said I,--"but, seven years were not so much tothe long-lived men who existed in those times, as seven months are to usephemerals of the nineteenth century! Jacob could very well afford towait that time; for he was not over what we call `middle-age' when hemarried; and was, most likely, in the flower of his youth on hisninetieth birthday!--He did not die you know, until he had reached theripe age of `an hundred and forty and seven years.'--Besides, he hadLaban's promise to keep him up to his work; but, _I_ have no promise,and no hope to lead me on, if I do wait--and what would I be at the endof seven years? Why, I would be thirty--quite old."
"Nonsense, Frank!"--replied the dear old lady, in her brisk cheery way,jumping round in her chair, and looking me full in the face with hertwinkling black eyes.--"When you are as old as I am, you will not thinkthirty such a very great age, you may be sure! And, I didn't say, too,that you should have to wait seven years, or anything like it--although,if you really love Miss Min, you would think nothing of twice that timeof probation. As for Jacob's age, the vicar could explain about thatbetter than I, Master Frank, sharp though you are; you had best ask himwhat he thinks on the subject? What I say, is, my boy, that you mustmake up your mind to work, and wait for your sweetheart; work, at anyrate--and wait, if needs be. `Rome wasn't built in a day;' and, whendid you ever hear of the course of true love running smooth? Be a man,Frank! Say to yourself, `I'll work and win her,' and you will. Putyour heart in it, and it will soon be done--sooner than you now think.There's no good in your sitting down and whining at your present defeat,like the naughty child that cried for the moon! You must be up anddoing. A man's business is to overcome obstacles; it is only us, women,who are allowed to cry at home!"
"But, Mrs Clyde dislikes me," I said.
"What of that?" retorted Miss Pimpernell; "her dislike may be overcome."
"I don't think it ever will be," I said, despondingly.
"Pooh, Frank," replied the old lady;--"`never is a long day.' She'sonly a woman, and will change her mind fast enough when it suits herpurpose to do so! You say, that she only objected on the score of yourposition, and from your not having a sufficient income?"
"Yes,"--I said,--"that was her ostensible reason; but, I think, sheobjects to me personally--in addition to having other and granderdesigns for Min."
"Ah, well,"--said Miss Pimpernell,--"we haven't got to consider thoseother motives now; she rejected your offer, at all events, on the pleaof your want of fortune?"
"Yes," said I, mechanically, again.
"Then, that is all we've got to deal with, my boy,"--she said.--"MrsClyde is quite right, too, you know, Frank. You have got no profession,or any regular occupation. Let us see if we cannot mend matters. Inthe first place, are you willing to work? Would you like some certainemployment on which you can depend?"--And she looked at me kindly butsearchingly over her spectacles.
"Would a duck swim?" said I, using an expressive Hibernicism.
"Well, what sort of employment would you like?" she asked.
"Anything," I replied.
"Come, that's good!" she said.--"And what can you do?"
"Everything," I said.
She laughed good-humouredly.--"You've a pretty good opinion of yourselfat any rate, Master Frank, if that's any recommendation:--you will neverfail through want of impudence. But, I'll speak to the vicar aboutthis. I think he could get you a nomination for a Government office."
"What, a clerkship?"--I said, ruefully, having hitherto affected todespise all the race of her Majesty's quill drivers, from Hornerdownwards.
"Yes, sir,"--she said,--"`a clerkship;' and a very good thing, too! Youneed not turn up your nose at it, Master Frank; _I_ can see you,although I _do_ wear glasses! Grander men than you think yourself, sir,have not despised such an opening! Here _is_ the vicar,"--she added, asher 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 conspiringtogether? Can I do anything for you, my boy?"--he continued, in hisnice kind way,--"if so, only ask me; and if it is in my power, you knowthat I will do it."
"He wishes to get into a Government office; don't you think you couldhelp him?" said Miss Pimpernell.
"You want to be in harness, my boy, eh?"--said the vicar, turning tome.--"That's right, Frank. Literature will come on, in due course, allin good time. There's nothing like having regular work to do, howevertrifling. It not only gives you a daily object in life, but alsosteadies your mind, causing you better to appreciate higher intellectualemployment! I thought, however, my boy, that you looked down on `HerMajesty's hard bargains,' as poor Government clerks are somewhatunjustly 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, likethe fountains in Trafalgar Square,' as _Punch_ declares," I said.
"Ah!" said the vicar, "that is a mistake, as you will soon find out whenyou belong to their body. They _do_ work, and well, too. Many of thegrand things on which departmental ministers pride themselves--and getthe credit, too, of effecting by their own unaided efforts--are reallyachieved by the plodding office hacks, who work on unrecognised in ourmidst! Our whole public service is a blunder, my boy. There is noeffective rise given in it to talent or merit, as is the case in otherofficial circles. The `big men,' who are appointed for politicalpurposes, get on, it is true; but, the `little men,' who labour fromyear's end to year's end, like horses in a mill, never have a chance ofdistinguishing themselves. When they are of a certain age, and attain aparticular height in their office, they become superannuated, andretire; for, should a vacancy occur, of a higher standing in the publicsecretariat, it is not given to _them_--although the training of theirwhole life may peculiarly fit them for the post! No, it is bestowed onsome young political adherent of the party then in power, who may be asunacquainted with the duties connected with the position, as _I_ amignorant of double fluxions! This naturally disgusts men with theservice; and, that is why you generally hear Government offices spokenof as playgrounds for idle youths, who enter them to saunter throughlife--on the strength of the constituent-influence of their fathers onthe seats of budding MP's."
"I really thought they never worked," said I. "There's Horner, forinstance. You don't suppose, sir, that _he_ confers such inestimablebenefit 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 hismoney'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 timeof the Crimean
war, that a friend of mine, employed in the Admiralty atWhitehall, 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 otherpublic departments! The clerks in each room were obliged to take it inturn for night duty; while, those who were free to go home--and they didnot leave work until long after the traditional `four o'clock' on mostdays--had to specify where they could be found every evening, in casethey should be suddenly wanted on the arrival of despatches from theseat of war. Of course this state of affairs is not ordinary; still,Government clerks are not idlers as a body:--on the contrary, you willfind them thorough working-men."
"Working-men!" ejaculated little Miss Pimpernell, raising her beadyblack 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'shod, or a carpenter's rule. Let him only wear slops and work in anengine-room, or use a mason's trowel--so long as he does these thingsand receives his wages weekly, he is a `working-man;' and, must have thehours of labour made to suit him, the legislation of the country alteredon his behalf, the taxation of the public judiciously contrived to steerclear of him. He is the typical `working-man,' my dear, of whomdemagogues are always prating:--the fetish, before which so-called`liberal' statesmen fall down and worship!
"But, your poor agricultural labourer, who lives in poverty, and dirt,and misery--starving annually on a tenth portion of the wages that theskilled mechanic gets--_he_ is no working-man; oh no! Nor the wretchedLondon clerk; he, also, is no working-man; nor the Government hack; northe striving, hard-worked doctor; besides, many professional men andstruggling tradesmen, who, for the larger portion of their lives, inchand pinch to scrape out existence!
"None of these are working-men; although they work harder--and for manymore hours per diem than the mechanic--on, in most instances, a lessincome than the happy protege of the radical law-maker gets by theaddition of his weekly wages at the year's end.
"And yet, the clerks, and the struggling tradesmen, and professionalmen, have to pay poor-rates and house-rates, and all sorts of pettytaxes, from which the fetish `working-man' is free; besides the income-tax, which never approaches him. The latter, often getting from threeto five pounds in wages, can dress as he pleases, live in a single roomfor five shillings a week, pay no rates or taxes; and may, finally,disport himself as he likes--leaving off work whenever the fancy strikeshim and resuming it again at his pleasure--without consulting theconvenience or the wishes of his employer, who is, through trades'unions and special class 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 keepup an appearance of respectability on, frequently, half the sum that themechanic gets in wages, as I've said already--while groaning under aburden of taxation from which the great `liberal' fetish is completelyfree. _He_ is a `working-man,' my dear:--_they_, are nothing of thesort.--Oh, no!"
"Do they really obtain such good wages?" I inquired;--"if so, what onearth do they do with the money?"
"Yes,"--said the vicar, in full swing of his favourite politicalargument,--"if anything, I have rather understated the case thanexaggerated it. The manager of one of the telegraph-cable manufactoriesdown the river, told me the other day, that, many of the hands drew fourand five pounds regularly each Saturday. And these men, he furtherinformed me, spent the greater part of this in drink and pleasuring ontheir off-days. They will have good food and the best, too--such as Icannot afford, in these days of high butchers' bills; notwithstandingthat they make such a poor show for their money, and save none of it,either! I do not complain of this, politically speaking, for, `anEnglishman's house is his castle,' you know, and he has the right tolive as he pleases; but, I do say, that when poor curates and clerks areso taxed, these men ought to bear their share of the taxation,possessing, as they do, incomes quite as large and in many casesgreater."
"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 wehave to bear of local and direct taxation! The pseudo `working-man'should fairly contribute his quota to all this--particularly, since hisbottle-holders have been so clamourous for giving him a share in thegovernment 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 class legislators andradical politics, not forgetting to animadvert, too, on the "ManchesterSchool"--his great bete noir.
"I wonder what Mr Mawley would say, to hear you run down his favouriteparty so!"--I said, when he gave me another opening to put in aword.--"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 oftouching 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 alwayssaid she disliked arguments; but, she was never better pleased than tohear the vicar expressing his sentiments on topics of the day. He wasso earnest and delighted when he got a good listener--although, he wasrather shy of speaking before strangers.
"Dear me!"--exclaimed the vicar, rubbing his forehead vigorously.--"Ideclare, I thought I was talking to Parole d'Honneur! You must forgiveme, 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 mainquestion, now that she had unhorsed him from his Radical charger.
"Yes, certainly,"--replied the vicar, cordially,--"I do not see why Ishould 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 inconjunction, the two of us together ought to manage it, eh, Sally?"
"And how soon do you think, sir,"--I asked,--"would you be likely toprocure 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 setto work for Min at once.
"How soon, eh, my boy?"--said he, kindly.--"You must have some specialobject 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 gladof 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 afortnight, I think; but, I'm certain, I can promise obtaining it withina month at the outside. Will that do, Frank?"
"Oh, thank you, sir!"--I exclaimed, in grateful gladness,--"that is everso much sooner than I expected! I thought it might take months to getme an appointment! I shall be ready for it, however, when it comes, allthe same, dear sir."
"You had better get crammed in the meantime, however, my boy," said thevicar, reflectively.
"`Get crammed,' brother!"--said Miss Pimpernell, aghast at the term, ofwhich she clearly did not understand the slang sense. "Get crammed!Why, what do you mean? Frank is thin, certainly, and he might be alittle stouter to advantage; but, has he got to be of a particularweight, 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 someday! I did not allude to physical cramming, such as the Strasbourggeese undergo; but, mental stuffing. A `crammer' is a `coach,' youknow."
"I'm sure I don't,"--said little Miss Pimpernell, energetically;--"for,what with your crammers an
d coaches, I really do not know what you arespeaking about!"
"Well, my dear, I'll now enlighten you,"--said the vicar, still laughingat the old lady's very natural mistake.--"Crammers and coaches, arecertain high-pressure machines, in the form of man, for forcing anyamount of superficial knowledge into uneducated youths within a fixedtime. It is an unnatural process, resulting pretty much in the same wayas does the artificial mode of fattening geese:--the latter havediseased livers; while, the subjects of high-pressure cram are usuallyafterwards subject to unmitigated ignorance--of the worst kind, becauseit pretends to learning--in addition to an insufferable pedantry, whichcan never convince judges acquainted with the genuine article! Ah, mydear, as Pope wisely wrote, `a little learning is a dangerous thing!'"
"Then you mean tutors,"--said Miss Pimpernell.--"Why could you not callthem by their proper name?"
"I could, my dear,"--said the vicar, good-humouredly,--"but, the term Iused, is an old relic of college jargon; you see how hard it is to cureoneself of bad habits!"
"And you think Frank will want to be `crammed,' then?"--asked MissPimpernell, making use of the very word she had just abused, because shethought her brother might feel hurt at her implied reproach. The dearold lady would have talked slang all day if she had believed it wouldhave given the vicar any satisfaction!
"Yes, my dear,"--he replied.--"You see, he might have to compete for hisappointment with a dozen others; and, as the examination for the civilservice 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 askso many purely-routine questions of candidates, that he had better havea tutor who makes these subjects his speciality, to put him up in thelittle 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,"--saidthe vicar, to encourage me.--"The examiners only require superficialknowledge; not, honest groundwork--although, they pretend to test theeffects of a `good liberal education!' One of these public crammerswould make you fit to pass in any certified time, if you could barelyread and write. He would hardly require even that preliminary basis towork upon, for that matter. But, I ought not to blame them; for, I am acoach myself, or, rather, was one, once, when I had the time to readwith pupils for the university. These competitive examinations are amistake, I think,"--he continued,--"for the men who pass them the mostbrilliantly seldom make the best clerks, which one would imagine to bethe result mainly desired. I would prefer, myself, the present middle-class examinations at Oxford--which they lately instituted, fordiscovering talent and merit--to all these hot-house tests; although, ofcourse, I may be biassed against them, through the recollection of myold don days, when I was at college.
"Not but what the idea of throwing open all appointments in the publicservice is better than the former custom of close patronage. The systemis only abused, that's all, in consequence of the Competition-Wallahbusiness being carried to excess. Your poor man, whom the change wasespecially supposed to benefit, has no chance now, unless he has themoney to pay for the services of a crammer--be his attainments never sogreat. The examinations have really degenerated into a technicalgroove, into which aspirants have to be regularly initiated by a`coach,' or they will never succeed in getting out of it, to receivetheir certificates of proficiency.
"I will write you down the name of a good man to apply to, Frank,"--headded.--"He'll pass you, I warrant, or I will eat my hat! And now Imust be off, my boy. I have a lot of visiting to do to-night ere I canhope to go to bed. I'll not forget to speak to the bishop, as I havepromised; and, I think, you may rely upon getting a nomination for agood 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, andputting 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 outon some errand of mercy, leaving Miss Pimpernell and myself to resumeour tete-a-tete conversation, which he had so satisfactorilyinterrupted.
"Well, Frank!"--said she, as his coat tails disappeared out of thedoorway,--"will not that do for you?"
"I should just think it would!"--I replied, buoyantly;--"and I do notknow how to thank you and the vicar for all your kindness. I can't tellwhat I should have done without your help!"
"Oh, never mind that, my boy,"--she answered kindly;--"we are both onlytoo glad to assist any one, especially you, Frank, whom the vicar callshis `old maid's son!' All you have to do now, is, to be hopeful andpersevere! Only let me see you and Miss Min happily married in theend--for I, you know, like to see young lovers happy:--I have such alarge amount of romance in me!" Indeed she had, I thought, when shelaughed cheerily at the idea.
"I'll work, never fear,"--I said--"but, promotion is very slow inGovernment offices. It may be years before I have a decent income suchas would satisfy Mrs Clyde!"
"Don't think of that, my boy,"--she said, presently.--"Don't look toofar ahead! Let me see what my Keble says," she added, taking down thevolume of the _Christian Year_, which she constantly consulted each day,from its regular place on her corner of the mantelpiece, where it alwaysstood guard over her favourite chair.--"Ah,"--she continued, turningover the pages,--"I knew that I would find something to suit you. Justhear what he says of the `lilies of the field'--
"`Alas! of thousand bosoms kind That daily court you and caress, How few the happy secret find Of your calm loveliness! Live for to-day! to-morrow's light To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight, Go, sleep like closing flowers at night, And Heaven thy morn shall bless.'"
"Ah! But do you think I shall be successful?"--I asked, wishing to havemy own hopes corroborated.
"To be sure you will, my boy. Why, there you will have another hundreda-year at once added to your income, besides what you make from yourliterary work! In a short time you will be quite `an eligible person,'I do declare!"--she said, laughing away my fit of the blues, in herbright brisk way.
"And do you think Min will wait for me?"
"Certainly, Frank. You wrong her by the very question. She's not thegirl to change, or, I'm very much mistaken in her honest, noble face.She will be constant and true, after what she has said to you, untildeath!"
"Oh, thank you for that assurance,"--I said.
I went home completely contented and happy.
You may wonder, perhaps, at this buoyancy of temperament, that enabledme to get over so quickly the disappointment and dejection I wassuffering from at Mrs Clyde's brusque rejection of my suit?
But, you must recollect that I was naturally sanguine, as I havepreviously told you; and, the memory of my unhappy defeat, although notquite forgotten, became merged into the hopeful anticipations I nowhad--of working for my darling, and being enabled to renew my offer, ina short time, with better chances of success.
Hang care! It killed a cat once, you know. Was it not Lord Palmerston,by the way, who once made that capital classic hit at the versatilechief of the Adullamites in Parliament during a debate on the budget,when he said--"Atra cura post _equitem_ sedet?"
Care should not sit behind _me_, however; or, in front of me, either!
I wasn't going to be a martyr to it, I promise you.
I would soon see Min again; and, in the meantime, I could wait for herand love her, in spite of all the stern mammas in creation, andnotwithstanding that my tongue might be tied for awhile.
As long as I knew that she loved me in return, whom or what had I tofear?
I was, at all events, emperor of my own thoughts;--and, she was mine,_there_!
She and I, Volume 2 Page 3
