The Three Clerks by Anthony Trollope

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And so the two walked on together, arm-in-arm, to the Weights and
Measures.

The ceremony which was now about to take place at the Weights and
Measures was ordained to be the first of those examinations
which, under the auspices of Sir Gregory Hardlines, were destined
to revivify, clarify, and render perfect the Civil Service of the
country. It was a great triumph to Sir Gregory to see the darling
object of his heart thus commencing its existence in the very
cradle in which he, as an infant Hercules, had made his first
exertions in the cause. It was to be his future fortune to
superintend these intellectual contests, in a stately office of
his own, duly set apart and appointed for the purpose. But the
throne on which he was to sit had not yet been prepared for him,
and he was at present constrained to content himself with
exercising his power, now here and now there, according as his
services might be required, carrying the appurtenances of his
royalty about with him.

But Sir Gregory was not a solitary monarch. In days long gone by
there were, as we all know, three kings at Cologne, and again
three kings at Brentford. So also were there three kings at the
Civil Service Examination Board. But of these three Sir Gregory
was by far the greatest king. He sat in the middle, had two
thousand jewels to his crown, whereas the others had only twelve
hundred each, and his name ran first in all the royal warrants.
Nevertheless, Sir Gregory, could he have had it so, would, like
most other kings, have preferred an undivided sceptre.

Of his co-mates on the throne the elder in rank was a west
country baronet, who, not content with fatting beeves and
brewing beer like his sires, aspired to do something for his country.
Sir Warwick Westend was an excellent man, full of the best
intentions, and not more than decently anxious to get the good
things of Government into his hand. He was, perhaps, rather too
much inclined to think that he could see further through a
millstone than another, and had a way of looking as though he
were always making the attempt. He was a man born to grace, if
not his country, at any rate his county; and his conduct was
uniformly such as to afford the liveliest satisfaction to his
uncles, aunts, and relations in general. If as a king he had a
fault, it was this, that he allowed that other king, Sir Gregory,
to carry him in his pocket.

But Sir Gregory could not at all get the third king into his
pocket. This gentleman was a worthy clergyman from Cambridge, one
Mr. Jobbles by name. Mr. Jobbles had for many years been
examining undergraduates for little goes and great goes, and had
passed his life in putting posing questions, in detecting
ignorance by viva voce scrutiny, and eliciting learning by
printed papers. He, by a stupendous effort of his mathematical
mind, had divided the adult British male world into classes and
sub-classes, and could tell at a moment's notice how long it
would take him to examine them all. His soul panted for the work.
Every man should, he thought, be made to pass through some 'go.'
The greengrocer's boy should not carry out cabbages unless his
fitness for cabbage-carrying had been ascertained, and till it
had also been ascertained that no other boy, ambitious of the
preferment, would carry them better. Difficulty! There was no
difficulty. Could not he, Jobbles, get through 5,000 viva voces
in every five hours--that is, with due assistance? and would not
55,000 printed papers, containing 555,000 questions, be getting
themselves answered at the same time, with more or less
precision?

So now Mr. Jobbles was about to try his huge plan by a small
commencement.

On the present occasion the examination was actually to be
carried on by two of the kings in person. Sir Gregory had
declared that as so large a portion of his heart and affections
was bound up with the gentlemen of the Weights and Measures, he
could not bring himself actually to ask questions of them, and
then to listen to or read their answers. Should any of his loved
ones make some fatal _faux pas_, his tears, like those of
the recording angel, would blot out the error. His eyes would
refuse to see faults, if there should be faults, in those whom he
himself had nurtured. Therefore, though he came with his
colleagues to the Weights and Measures, he did not himself take
part in the examination.

At eleven o'clock the Board-room was opened, and the candidates
walked in and seated themselves. Fear of Sir Gregory, and other
causes, had thinned the number. Poor Jones, who by right of
seniority should have had the prize, declined to put himself in
competition with his juniors, and in lieu thereof sent up to the
Lords of the Treasury an awful memorial spread over fifteen folio
pages--very uselessly. The Lords of the Treasury referred it to the
three kings, whose secretary put a minute upon it. Sir Gregory
signed the minute, and some gentleman at the Treasury wrote a short
letter to Mr. Jones, apprising that unhappy gentleman that my Lords
had taken the matter into their fullest consideration, and that
nothing could be done to help him. Had Jones been consulted by any
other disappointed Civil Service Werter as to the expediency of
complaining to the Treasury Lords, Jones would have told him
exactly what would be the result. The disappointed one, however,
always thinks that all the Treasury Lords will give all their
ears to him, though they are deafer than Icarus to the world
beside.

Robinson stood his ground like a man; but Brown found out, a day
or two before the struggle came, that he could not bring himself
to stand against his friend. Jones, he said, he knew was
incompetent, but Robinson ought to get it; so he, for one, would
not stand in Robinson's way.

Uppinall was there, as confident as a bantam cock; and so was
Alphabet Precis, who had declared to all his friends that if the
pure well of official English undefiled was to count for
anything, he ought to be pretty safe. But poor Minusex was ill,
and sent a certificate. He had so crammed himself with unknown
quantities, that his mind--like a gourmand's stomach--had broken
down under the effort, and he was now sobbing out algebraic
positions under his counterpane.

Norman and Alaric made up the five who still had health,
strength, and pluck to face the stern justice of the new kings;
and they accordingly took their seats on five chairs, equally
distant, placing themselves in due order of seniority.

And then, first of all, Sir Gregory made a little speech,
standing up at the head of the Board-room table, with an
attendant king on either hand, and the Secretary, and two
Assistant-Secretaries, standing near him. Was not this a proud
moment for Sir Gregory?

'It had now become his duty,' he said, 'to take his position in
that room, that well-known, well-loved room, under circumstances
of which he had little dreamt when he first entered it with awe-
struck steps, in the days of his early youth. But, nevertheless,
even then ambition had warmed him. That ambition had been to
devote every energy of his mind, every muscle of his body, every
hour of his life, to the Civil Service of his country. It was not
much, perhaps, that he had been able to do; he could not boast of
those acute powers of mind, of that gigantic grasp of intellect,
of which they saw in those days so wonderful an example in a high
place.' Sir Gregory here gratefully alluded to that statesman who
had given him his present appointment. 'But still he had devoted
all his mind, such as it was, and every hour of his life, to the
service; and now he had his reward. If he might be allowed to
give advice to the gentlemen before him, gentlemen of whose,
admirable qualifications for the Civil Service of the country he
himself was so well aware, his advice should be this--That they
should look on none of their energies as applicable to private
purposes, regard none of their hours as their own. They were
devoted in a peculiar way to the Civil Service, and they should
feel that such was their lot in life. They should know that their
intellects were a sacred pledge intrusted to them for the good of
that service, and should use them accordingly. This should be
their highest ambition. And what higher ambition,' asked Sir
Gregory, 'could they have? They all, alas! knew that the service
had been disgraced in other quarters by idleness, incompetency,
and, he feared he must say, dishonesty; till incompetency and
dishonesty had become, not the exception, but the rule. It was
too notorious that the Civil Service was filled by the family
fools of the aristocracy and middle classes, and that any family
who had no fool to send, sent in lieu thereof some invalid past
hope. Thus the service had become a hospital for incurables and
idiots. It was,' said Sir Gregory, 'for him and them to cure all
that. He would not,' he said, 'at that moment, say anything with
reference to salaries. It was, as they were all aware, a very
difficult subject, and did not seem to be necessarily connected
with the few remarks which the present opportunity had seemed to
him to call for.' He then told them they were all his beloved
children; that they were a credit to the establishment; that he
handed them over without a blush to his excellent colleagues, Sir
Warwick Westend and Mr. Jobbles, and that he wished in his heart
that each of them could be successful. And having so spoken, Sir
Gregory went his way.

It was beautiful then to see how Mr. Jobbles swam down the long
room and handed out his examination papers to the different
candidates as he passed them. 'Twas a pity there should have been
but five; the man did it so well, so quickly, with such a gusto!
He should have been allowed to try his hand upon five hundred
instead of five. His step was so rapid and his hand and arm moved
so dexterously, that no conceivable number would have been too
many for him. But, even with five, he showed at once that the
right man was in the right place. Mr. Jobbles was created for the
conducting of examinations.

And then the five candidates, who had hitherto been all ears, of
a sudden became all eyes, and devoted themselves in a manner
which would have been delightful to Sir Gregory, to the papers
before them. Sir Warwick, in the meantime, was seated in his
chair, hard at work looking through his millstone.

It is a dreadful task that of answering examination papers--only
to be exceeded in dreadfulness by the horrors of Mr. Jobbles'
viva voce torments. A man has before him a string of questions,
and he looks painfully down them, from question to question,
searching for some allusion to that special knowledge which he
has within him. He too often finds that no such allusion is made.
It appears that the Jobbles of the occasion has exactly known the
blank spots of his mind and fitted them all. He has perhaps
crammed himself with the winds and tides, and there is no more
reference to those stormy subjects than if Luna were extinct; but
he has, unfortunately, been loose about his botany, and question
after question would appear to him to have been dictated by Sir
Joseph Paxton or the head-gardener at Kew. And then to his own
blank face and puzzled look is opposed the fast scribbling of
some botanic candidate, fast as though reams of folio could
hardly contain all the knowledge which he is able to pour forth.

And so, with a mixture of fast-scribbling pens and blank faces,
our five friends went to work. The examination lasted for four
days, and it was arranged that on each of the four days each of
the five candidates should be called up to undergo a certain
quantum of Mr. Jobbles' viva voce. This part of his duty Mr.
Jobbles performed with a mildness of manner that was beyond all
praise. A mother training her first-born to say 'papa,' could not
do so with a softer voice, or more affectionate demeanour.

'The planet Jupiter,' said he to Mr. Precis; 'I have no doubt you
know accurately the computed distance of that planet from the
sun, and also that of our own planet. Could you tell me now, how
would you calculate the distance in inches, say from London
Bridge to the nearest portion of Jupiter's disc, at twelve
o'clock on the first of April?' Mr. Jobbles, as he put his little
question, smiled the sweetest of smiles, and spoke in a tone
conciliating and gentle, as though he were asking Mr. Precis to
dine with him and take part of a bottle of claret at half-past
six.

But, nevertheless, Mr. Precis looked very blank.

'I am not asking the distance, you know,' said Mr. Jobbles,
smiling sweeter than ever; 'I am only asking how you would
compute it.'

But still Mr. Precis looked exceedingly blank.

'Never mind,' said Mr. Jobbles, with all the encouragement which
his voice could give, 'never mind. Now, suppose that _a_ be
a milestone; _b_ a turnpike-gate--,' and so on.

But Mr. Jobbles, in spite of his smiles, so awed the hearts of
some of his candidates, that two of them retired at the end of
the second day. Poor Robinson, thinking, and not without
sufficient ground, that he had not a ghost of a chance,
determined to save himself from further annoyance; and then
Norman, put utterly out of conceit with himself by what he deemed
the insufficiency of his answers, did the same. He had become low
in spirits, unhappy in temperament, and self-diffident to a
painful degree. Alaric, to give him his due, did everything in
his power to persuade him to see the task out to the last. But
the assurance and composure of Alaric's manner did more than
anything else to provoke and increase Norman's discomfiture. He
had been schooling himself to bear a beating with a good grace,
and he began to find that he could only bear it as a disgrace. On
the morning of the third day, instead of taking his place in the
Board-room, he sent in a note to Mr. Jobbles, declaring that he
withdrew from the trial. Mr. Jobbles read the note, and smiled
with satisfaction as he put it into his pocket. It was an
acknowledgement of his own unrivalled powers as an Examiner.

Mr. Precis, still trusting to his pure well, went on to the end,
and at the end declared that so ignorant was Mr. Jobbles of his
duty that he had given them no opportunity of showing what they
could do in English composition. Why had he not put before them
the papers in some memorable official case, and desired them to
make an abstract; those, for instance, on the much-vexed question
of penny versus pound, as touching the new standard for the
decimal coinage? Mr. Jobbles an Examiner indeed! And so Mr.
Precis bethought himself that he also, if unsuccessful, would go
to the Lords of the Treasury.

And Mr. Uppinall and Alaric Tudor also went on. Those who knew
anything of the matter, when they saw how the running horses were
reduced in number, and what horses were left on the course--when
they observed also how each steed came to the post on each
succeeding morning, had no doubt whatever of the result. So that
when Alaric was declared on the Saturday morning to have gained
the prize, there was very little astonishment either felt or
expressed at the Weights and Measures.

Alaric's juniors wished him joy with some show of reality in
their manner; but the congratulations of his seniors, including
the Secretary and Assistant-Secretaries, the new Chief Clerk and
the men in the class to which he was now promoted, were very cold
indeed. But to this he was indifferent. It was the nature of
Tudor's disposition, that he never for a moment rested satisfied
with the round of the ladder on which he had contrived to place
himself. He had no sooner gained a step than he looked upwards to
see how the next step was to be achieved. His motto might well
have been 'Excelsior!' if only he could have taught himself to
look to heights that were really high. When he found that the
august Secretary received him on his promotion without much
_empressement_, he comforted himself by calculating how long
it would be before he should fill that Secretary's chair--if
indeed it should ever be worth his while to fill it.

The Secretary at the Weights and Measures had, after all, but a
dull time of it, and was precluded by the routine of his office
from parliamentary ambition and the joys of government. Alaric
was already beginning to think that this Weights and Measures
should only be a stepping-stone to him; and that when Sir
Gregory, with his stern dogma of devotion to the service, had
been of sufficient use to him, he also might with advantage be
thrown over. In the meantime an income of L600 a year brought
with it to the young bachelor some very comfortable influence.
But the warmest and the pleasantest of all the congratulations
which he received was from his dear friend Undy Scott.

'Ah, my boy,' said Undy, pressing his hand, 'you'll soon be one
of us. By the by, I want to put you up for the Downing; you
should leave that Pythagorean: there's nothing to be got by it.'

Now, the Downing was a political club, in which, however,
politics had latterly become a good deal mixed. But the
Government of the day generally found there a liberal support,
and recognized and acknowledged its claim to consideration.

CHAPTER XII

CONSOLATION

On the following Sunday neither Tudor nor Norman was at Hampton.
They had both felt that they could not comfortably meet each
other there, and each had declined to go. They had promised to
write; and now that the matter was decided, how were they or
either of them to keep the promise?

It may be thought that the bitterness of the moment was over with
Norman as soon as he gave up; but such was not the case. Let him
struggle as he would with himself he could not rally, nor bring
himself to feel happy on what had occurred. He would have been
better satisfied if Alaric would have triumphed; but Alaric
seemed to take it all as a matter of course, and never spoke of
his own promotion unless he did so in answer to some remark of
his companion; then he could speak easily enough; otherwise he
was willing to let the matter go by as one settled and at rest.
He had consulted Norman about the purchase of a horse, but he
hitherto had shown no other sign that he was a richer man than
formerly.

It was a very bitter time for Norman. He could not divest his
mind of the subject. What was he to do? Where was he to go? How
was he to get away, even for a time, from Alaric Tudor? And then,
was he right in wishing to get away from him? Had he not told
himself, over and over again, that it behoved him as a man and a
friend and a Christian to conquer the bitter feeling of envy
which preyed on his spirits? Had he not himself counselled Alaric
to stand this examination? and had he not promised that his doing
so should make no difference in their friendship? Had he not
pledged himself to rejoice in the success of his friend? and now
was he to break his word both to that friend and to himself?

Schooling himself, or trying to school himself in this way, he
made no attempt at escaping from his unhappiness. They passed the
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday evenings together. It was now
nearly the end of September, and London was empty; that is, empty
as regards those friends and acquaintances with whom Norman might
have found some resource. On the Saturday they left their office
early; for all office routine had, during this week, been broken
through by the immense importance of the ceremony which was going
on; and then it became necessary to write to Mrs. Woodward.

'Will you write to Hampton or shall I?' said Alaric, as they
walked arm-in-arm under the windows of Whitehall.

'Oh! you, of course,' said Norman; 'you have much to tell them; I
have nothing.'

'Just as you please,' said the other. 'That is, of course, I will
if you like it. But I think it would come better from you. You
are nearer to them than I am; and it will have less a look of
triumph on my part, and less also of disappointment on yours, if
you write. If you tell them that you literally threw away your
chance, you will only tell them the truth.'

Norman assented, but he said nothing further. What business had
Alaric to utter such words as triumph and disappointment? He
could not keep his arm, on which Alaric was leaning, from
spasmodically shrinking from the touch. He had been beaten by a
man, nay worse, had yielded to a man, who had not the common
honesty to refuse a bribe; and yet he was bound to love this man.
He could not help asking himself the question which he would do.
Would he love him or hate him?

But while he was so questioning himself, he got home, and had to
sit down and write his letter--this he did at once, but not
without difficulty. It ran as follows:--

'My dear Mrs. Woodward,--

'I write a line to tell you of my discomfiture and Alaric's
success. I gave up at the end of the second day. Of course I will
tell you all about it when we meet. No one seemed to doubt that
Alaric would get it, as a matter of course. I shall be with you
on next Saturday. Alaric says he will not go down till the
Saturday after, when I shall be at Normansgrove. My best love to
the girls. Tell Katie I shan't drown either myself or the boat,

'Yours ever affectionately,

'H. N.

'Saturday, September, 185-.

'Pray write me a kind letter to comfort me.'

Mrs. Woodward did write him a very kind letter, and it did
comfort him. And she wrote also, as she was bound to do, a letter
of congratulation to Alaric. This letter, though it expressed in
the usual terms the satisfaction which one friend has in
another's welfare, was not written in the same warm affectionate
tone as that to Norman. Alaric perceived instantly that it was
not cordial. He loved Mrs. Woodward dearly, and greatly desired
her love and sympathy. But what then? He could not have
everything. He determined, therefore, not to trouble his mind. If
Mrs. Woodward did not sympathize with him, others of the family
would do so; and success would ultimately bring her round. What
woman ever yet refused to sympathize with successful ambition?

Alaric also received a letter from Captain Cuttwater, in which
that gallant veteran expressed his great joy at the result of the
examination--'Let the best man win all the world over,' said he,
'whatever his name is. And they'll have to make the same rule at
the Admiralty too. The days of the Howards are gone by; that is,
unless they can prove themselves able seamen, which very few of
them ever did yet. Let the best man win; that's what I say; and
let every man get his fair share of promotion.' Alaric did not
despise the sympathy of Captain Cuttwater. It might turn out that
even Captain Cuttwater could be made of use.

Mrs. Woodward's letter to Harry was full of the tenderest
affection. It was a flattering, soothing, loving letter, such as
no man ever could have written. It was like oil poured into his
wounds, and made him feel that the world was not all harsh to
him. He had determined not to go to Hampton that Saturday; but
Mrs. Woodward's letter almost made him rush there at once that he
might throw himself into her arms--into her arms, and at her
daughter's feet. The time had now come to him when he wanted to
be comforted by the knowledge that his love was returned. He
resolved that during his next visit he would formally propose to
Gertrude.

The determination to do this, and a strong hope that he might do
it successfully, kept him up during the interval. On the
following week he was to go to his father's place to shoot,
having obtained leave of absence for a month; and he felt that he
could still enjoy himself if he could take with him the
conviction that all was right at Surbiton Cottage. Mrs. Woodward,
in her letter, though she had spoken much of the girls, had said
nothing special about Gertrude. Nevertheless, Norman gathered
from it that she intended that he should go thither to look for
comfort, and that he would find there the comfort that he
required.

And Mrs. Woodward had intended that such should be the effect of
her letter. It was at present the dearest wish of her heart to
see Norman and Gertrude married. That Norman had often declared
his love to her eldest daughter she knew very well, and she knew
also that Gertrude had never rejected him. Having perfect
confidence in her child, she had purposely abstained from saying
anything that could bias her opinion. She had determined to leave
the matter in the hands of the young people themselves, judging
that it might be best arranged as a true love-match between them,
without interference from her; she had therefore said nothing to
Gertrude on the subject.

Mrs. Woodward, however, discovered that she was in error, when it
was too late for her to retrieve her mistake; and, indeed, had
she discovered it before that letter was written, what could she
have done? She could not have forbidden Harry to come to her
house--she could not have warned him not to throw himself at her
daughter's feet. The cup was prepared for his lips, and it was
necessary that he should drink of it. There was nothing for which
she could blame him; nothing for which she could blame herself;
nothing for which she did blame her daughter. It was sorrowful,
pitiful, to be lamented, wept for, aye, and groaned for; many
inward groans it cost her; but it was at any rate well that she
could attribute her sorrow to the spite of circumstances rather
than to the ill-conduct of those she loved.