Chương Chương 25 · A COMPETITIVE EXAMINATION

A COMPETITIVE EXAMINATION

When the king traveled for change of air, or made a progress, or

visited a distant noble whom he wished to bankrupt with the cost

of his keep, part of the administration moved with him. It was

a fashion of the time. The Commission charged with the examination

of candidates for posts in the army came with the king to the

Valley, whereas they could have transacted their business just

as well at home. And although this expedition was strictly a

holiday excursion for the king, he kept some of his business

functions going just the same. He touched for the evil, as usual;

he held court in the gate at sunrise and tried cases, for he was

himself Chief Justice of the King's Bench.

He shone very well in this latter office. He was a wise and humane

judge, and he clearly did his honest best and fairest,--according

to his lights. That is a large reservation. His lights--I mean

his rearing--often colored his decisions. Whenever there was a

dispute between a noble or gentleman and a person of lower degree,

the king's leanings and sympathies were for the former class always,

whether he suspected it or not. It was impossible that this should

be otherwise. The blunting effects of slavery upon the slaveholder's

moral perceptions are known and conceded, the world over; and a

privileged class, an aristocracy, is but a band of slaveholders

under another name. This has a harsh sound, and yet should not

be offensive to any--even to the noble himself--unless the fact

itself be an offense: for the statement simply formulates a fact.

The repulsive feature of slavery is the _thing_, not its name. One

needs but to hear an aristocrat speak of the classes that are below

him to recognize--and in but indifferently modified measure

--the very air and tone of the actual slaveholder; and behind these

are the slaveholder's spirit, the slaveholder's blunted feeling.

They are the result of the same cause in both cases: the possessor's

old and inbred custom of regarding himself as a superior being.

The king's judgments wrought frequent injustices, but it was merely

the fault of his training, his natural and unalterable sympathies.

He was as unfitted for a judgeship as would be the average mother

for the position of milk-distributor to starving children in

famine-time; her own children would fare a shade better than the rest.

One very curious case came before the king. A young girl, an

orphan, who had a considerable estate, married a fine young fellow

who had nothing. The girl's property was within a seigniory held

by the Church. The bishop of the diocese, an arrogant scion of

the great nobility, claimed the girl's estate on the ground that

she had married privately, and thus had cheated the Church out

of one of its rights as lord of the seigniory--the one heretofore

referred to as le droit du seigneur. The penalty of refusal or

avoidance was confiscation. The girl's defense was, that the

lordship of the seigniory was vested in the bishop, and the

particular right here involved was not transferable, but must be

exercised by the lord himself or stand vacated; and that an older

law, of the Church itself, strictly barred the bishop from exercising

it. It was a very odd case, indeed.

It reminded me of something I had read in my youth about the

ingenious way in which the aldermen of London raised the money

that built the Mansion House. A person who had not taken the

Sacrament according to the Anglican rite could not stand as a

candidate for sheriff of London. Thus Dissenters were ineligible;

they could not run if asked, they could not serve if elected.

The aldermen, who without any question were Yankees in disguise,

hit upon this neat device: they passed a by-law imposing a fine

of L400 upon any one who should refuse to be a candidate for

sheriff, and a fine of L600 upon any person who, after being

elected sheriff, refused to serve. Then they went to work and

elected a lot of Dissenters, one after another, and kept it up

until they had collected L15,000 in fines; and there stands the

stately Mansion House to this day, to keep the blushing citizen

in mind of a long past and lamented day when a band of Yankees

slipped into London and played games of the sort that has given

their race a unique and shady reputation among all truly good

and holy peoples that be in the earth.

The girl's case seemed strong to me; the bishop's case was just

as strong. I did not see how the king was going to get out of

this hole. But he got out. I append his decision:

“Truly I find small difficulty here, the matter being even a

child's affair for simpleness. An the young bride had conveyed

notice, as in duty bound, to her feudal lord and proper master

and protector the bishop, she had suffered no loss, for the said

bishop could have got a dispensation making him, for temporary

conveniency, eligible to the exercise of his said right, and thus

would she have kept all she had. Whereas, failing in her first

duty, she hath by that failure failed in all; for whoso, clinging

to a rope, severeth it above his hands, must fall; it being no

defense to claim that the rest of the rope is sound, neither any

deliverance from his peril, as he shall find. Pardy, the woman's

case is rotten at the source. It is the decree of the court that

she forfeit to the said lord bishop all her goods, even to the

last farthing that she doth possess, and be thereto mulcted in

the costs. Next!”

Here was a tragic end to a beautiful honeymoon not yet three months

old. Poor young creatures! They had lived these three months

lapped to the lips in worldly comforts. These clothes and trinkets

they were wearing were as fine and dainty as the shrewdest stretch

of the sumptuary laws allowed to people of their degree; and in

these pretty clothes, she crying on his shoulder, and he trying

to comfort her with hopeful words set to the music of despair,

they went from the judgment seat out into the world homeless,

bedless, breadless; why, the very beggars by the roadsides were

not so poor as they.

Well, the king was out of the hole; and on terms satisfactory to

the Church and the rest of the aristocracy, no doubt. Men write

many fine and plausible arguments in support of monarchy, but

the fact remains that where every man in a State has a vote, brutal

laws are impossible. Arthur's people were of course poor material

for a republic, because they had been debased so long by monarchy;

and yet even they would have been intelligent enough to make short

work of that law which the king had just been administering if it

had been submitted to their full and free vote. There is a phrase

which has grown so common in the world's mouth that it has come

to seem to have sense and meaning--the sense and meaning implied

when it is used; that is the phrase which refers to this or that or

the other nation as possibly being “capable of self-government”;

and the implied sense of it is, that there has been a nation

somewhere, some time or other which _wasn't_ capable of it--wasn't as

able to govern itself as some self-appointed specialists were or

would be to govern it. The master minds of all nations, in all

ages, have sprung in affluent multitude from the mass of the nation,

and from the mass of the nation only--not from its privileged

classes; and so, no matter what the nation's intellectual grade

was; whether high or low, the bulk of its ability was in the long

ranks of its nameless and its poor, and so it never saw the day

that it had not the material in abundance whereby to govern itself.

Which is to assert an always self-proven fact: that even the best

governed and most free and most enlightened monarchy is still

behind the best condition attainable by its people; and that the

same is true of kindred governments of lower grades, all the way

down to the lowest.

King Arthur had hurried up the army business altogether beyond

my calculations. I had not supposed he would move in the matter

while I was away; and so I had not mapped out a scheme for determining

the merits of officers; I had only remarked that it would be wise

to submit every candidate to a sharp and searching examination;

and privately I meant to put together a list of military qualifications

that nobody could answer to but my West Pointers. That ought

to have been attended to before I left; for the king was so taken

with the idea of a standing army that he couldn't wait but must

get about it at once, and get up as good a scheme of examination

as he could invent out of his own head.

I was impatient to see what this was; and to show, too, how much

more admirable was the one which I should display to the Examining

Board. I intimated this, gently, to the king, and it fired his

curiosity. When the Board was assembled, I followed him in; and

behind us came the candidates. One of these candidates was a bright

young West Pointer of mine, and with him were a couple of my

West Point professors.

When I saw the Board, I did not know whether to cry or to laugh.

The head of it was the officer known to later centuries as Norroy

King-at-Arms! The two other members were chiefs of bureaus in

his department; and all three were priests, of course; all officials

who had to know how to read and write were priests.

My candidate was called first, out of courtesy to me, and the head

of the Board opened on him with official solemnity:

“Name?”

“Mal-ease.”

“Son of?”

“Webster.”

“Webster--Webster. H'm--I--my memory faileth to recall the

name. Condition?”

“Weaver.”

“Weaver!--God keep us!”

The king was staggered, from his summit to his foundations; one

clerk fainted, and the others came near it. The chairman pulled

himself together, and said indignantly:

“It is sufficient. Get you hence.”

But I appealed to the king. I begged that my candidate might be

examined. The king was willing, but the Board, who were all

well-born folk, implored the king to spare them the indignity of

examining the weaver's son. I knew they didn't know enough to

examine him anyway, so I joined my prayers to theirs and the king

turned the duty over to my professors. I had had a blackboard

prepared, and it was put up now, and the circus began. It was

beautiful to hear the lad lay out the science of war, and wallow

in details of battle and siege, of supply, transportation, mining

and countermining, grand tactics, big strategy and little strategy,

signal service, infantry, cavalry, artillery, and all about siege

guns, field guns, gatling guns, rifled guns, smooth bores, musket

practice, revolver practice--and not a solitary word of it all

could these catfish make head or tail of, you understand--and it

was handsome to see him chalk off mathematical nightmares on the

blackboard that would stump the angels themselves, and do it like

nothing, too--all about eclipses, and comets, and solstices, and

constellations, and mean time, and sidereal time, and dinner time,

and bedtime, and every other imaginable thing above the clouds or

under them that you could harry or bullyrag an enemy with and make

him wish he hadn't come--and when the boy made his military salute

and stood aside at last, I was proud enough to hug him, and all

those other people were so dazed they looked partly petrified,

partly drunk, and wholly caught out and snowed under. I judged

that the cake was ours, and by a large majority.

Education is a great thing. This was the same youth who had come

to West Point so ignorant that when I asked him, “If a general

officer should have a horse shot under him on the field of battle,

what ought he to do?” answered up naively and said:

“Get up and brush himself.”

One of the young nobles was called up now. I thought I would

question him a little myself. I said:

“Can your lordship read?”

His face flushed indignantly, and he fired this at me:

“Takest me for a clerk? I trow I am not of a blood that--”

“Answer the question!”

He crowded his wrath down and made out to answer “No.”

“Can you write?”

He wanted to resent this, too, but I said:

“You will confine yourself to the questions, and make no comments.

You are not here to air your blood or your graces, and nothing

of the sort will be permitted. Can you write?”

“No.”

“Do you know the multiplication table?”

“I wit not what ye refer to.”

“How much is 9 times 6?”

“It is a mystery that is hidden from me by reason that the emergency

requiring the fathoming of it hath not in my life-days occurred,

and so, not having no need to know this thing, I abide barren

of the knowledge.”

“If A trade a barrel of onions to B, worth 2 pence the bushel,

in exchange for a sheep worth 4 pence and a dog worth a penny,

and C kill the dog before delivery, because bitten by the same,

who mistook him for D, what sum is still due to A from B, and

which party pays for the dog, C or D, and who gets the money?

If A, is the penny sufficient, or may he claim consequential damages

in the form of additional money to represent the possible profit

which might have inured from the dog, and classifiable as earned

increment, that is to say, usufruct?”

“Verily, in the all-wise and unknowable providence of God, who

moveth in mysterious ways his wonders to perform, have I never

heard the fellow to this question for confusion of the mind and

congestion of the ducts of thought. Wherefore I beseech you let

the dog and the onions and these people of the strange and godless

names work out their several salvations from their piteous and

wonderful difficulties without help of mine, for indeed their

trouble is sufficient as it is, whereas an I tried to help I should

but damage their cause the more and yet mayhap not live myself

to see the desolation wrought.”

“What do you know of the laws of attraction and gravitation?”

“If there be such, mayhap his grace the king did promulgate them

whilst that I lay sick about the beginning of the year and thereby

failed to hear his proclamation.”

“What do you know of the science of optics?”

“I know of governors of places, and seneschals of castles, and

sheriffs of counties, and many like small offices and titles of

honor, but him you call the Science of Optics I have not heard

of before; peradventure it is a new dignity.”

“Yes, in this country.”

Try to conceive of this mollusk gravely applying for an official

position, of any kind under the sun! Why, he had all the earmarks

of a typewriter copyist, if you leave out the disposition to

contribute uninvited emendations of your grammar and punctuation.

It was unaccountable that he didn't attempt a little help of that

sort out of his majestic supply of incapacity for the job. But that

didn't prove that he hadn't material in him for the disposition,

it only proved that he wasn't a typewriter copyist yet. After

nagging him a little more, I let the professors loose on him and

they turned him inside out, on the line of scientific war, and

found him empty, of course. He knew somewhat about the warfare

of the time--bushwhacking around for ogres, and bull-fights in

the tournament ring, and such things--but otherwise he was empty

and useless. Then we took the other young noble in hand, and he

was the first one's twin, for ignorance and incapacity. I delivered

them into the hands of the chairman of the Board with the comfortable

consciousness that their cake was dough. They were examined in

the previous order of precedence.

“Name, so please you?”

“Pertipole, son of Sir Pertipole, Baron of Barley Mash.”

“Grandfather?”

“Also Sir Pertipole, Baron of Barley Mash.”

“Great-grandfather?”

“The same name and title.”

“Great-great-grandfather?”

“We had none, worshipful sir, the line failing before it had

reached so far back.”

“It mattereth not. It is a good four generations, and fulfilleth

the requirements of the rule.”

“Fulfills what rule?” I asked.

“The rule requiring four generations of nobility or else the

candidate is not eligible.”

“A man not eligible for a lieutenancy in the army unless he can

prove four generations of noble descent?”

“Even so; neither lieutenant nor any other officer may be commissioned

without that qualification.”

“Oh, come, this is an astonishing thing. What good is such a

qualification as that?”

“What good? It is a hardy question, fair sir and Boss, since it doth

go far to impugn the wisdom of even our holy Mother Church herself.”

“As how?”

“For that she hath established the self-same rule regarding

saints. By her law none may be canonized until he hath lain dead

four generations.”

“I see, I see--it is the same thing. It is wonderful. In the one

case a man lies dead-alive four generations--mummified in ignorance

and sloth--and that qualifies him to command live people, and take

their weal and woe into his impotent hands; and in the other case,

a man lies bedded with death and worms four generations, and that

qualifies him for office in the celestial camp. Does the king's

grace approve of this strange law?”

The king said:

“Why, truly I see naught about it that is strange. All places of

honor and of profit do belong, by natural right, to them that be

of noble blood, and so these dignities in the army are their

property and would be so without this or any rule. The rule is

but to mark a limit. Its purpose is to keep out too recent blood,

which would bring into contempt these offices, and men of lofty

lineage would turn their backs and scorn to take them. I were

to blame an I permitted this calamity. _You_ can permit it an you

are minded so to do, for you have the delegated authority, but

that the king should do it were a most strange madness and not

comprehensible to any.”

“I yield. Proceed, sir Chief of the Herald's College.”

The chairman resumed as follows:

“By what illustrious achievement for the honor of the Throne and

State did the founder of your great line lift himself to the

sacred dignity of the British nobility?”

“He built a brewery.”

“Sire, the Board finds this candidate perfect in all the requirements

and qualifications for military command, and doth hold his case

open for decision after due examination of his competitor.”

The competitor came forward and proved exactly four generations

of nobility himself. So there was a tie in military qualifications

that far.

He stood aside a moment, and Sir Pertipole was questioned further:

“Of what condition was the wife of the founder of your line?”

“She came of the highest landed gentry, yet she was not noble;

she was gracious and pure and charitable, of a blameless life and

character, insomuch that in these regards was she peer of the

best lady in the land.”

“That will do. Stand down.” He called up the competing lordling

again, and asked: “What was the rank and condition of the

great-grandmother who conferred British nobility upon your

great house?”

“She was a king's leman and did climb to that splendid eminence

by her own unholpen merit from the sewer where she was born.”

“Ah, this, indeed, is true nobility, this is the right and perfect

intermixture. The lieutenancy is yours, fair lord. Hold it not in

contempt; it is the humble step which will lead to grandeurs more

worthy of the splendor of an origin like to thine.”

I was down in the bottomless pit of humiliation. I had promised

myself an easy and zenith-scouring triumph, and this was the outcome!

I was almost ashamed to look my poor disappointed cadet in the

face. I told him to go home and be patient, this wasn't the end.

I had a private audience with the king, and made a proposition.

I said it was quite right to officer that regiment with nobilities,

and he couldn't have done a wiser thing. It would also be a good

idea to add five hundred officers to it; in fact, add as many

officers as there were nobles and relatives of nobles in the

country, even if there should finally be five times as many officers

as privates in it; and thus make it the crack regiment, the envied

regiment, the King's Own regiment, and entitled to fight on its

own hook and in its own way, and go whither it would and come

when it pleased, in time of war, and be utterly swell and independent.

This would make that regiment the heart's desire of all the

nobility, and they would all be satisfied and happy. Then we

would make up the rest of the standing army out of commonplace

materials, and officer it with nobodies, as was proper--nobodies

selected on a basis of mere efficiency--and we would make this

regiment toe the line, allow it no aristocratic freedom from

restraint, and force it to do all the work and persistent hammering,

to the end that whenever the King's Own was tired and wanted to go

off for a change and rummage around amongst ogres and have a good

time, it could go without uneasiness, knowing that matters were in

safe hands behind it, and business going to be continued at the

old stand, same as usual. The king was charmed with the idea.

When I noticed that, it gave me a valuable notion. I thought

I saw my way out of an old and stubborn difficulty at last. You

see, the royalties of the Pendragon stock were a long-lived race

and very fruitful. Whenever a child was born to any of these

--and it was pretty often--there was wild joy in the nation's mouth,

and piteous sorrow in the nation's heart. The joy was questionable,

but the grief was honest. Because the event meant another call

for a Royal Grant. Long was the list of these royalties, and

they were a heavy and steadily increasing burden upon the treasury

and a menace to the crown. Yet Arthur could not believe this

latter fact, and he would not listen to any of my various projects

for substituting something in the place of the royal grants. If I

could have persuaded him to now and then provide a support for

one of these outlying scions from his own pocket, I could have

made a grand to-do over it, and it would have had a good effect

with the nation; but no, he wouldn't hear of such a thing. He had

something like a religious passion for royal grant; he seemed to

look upon it as a sort of sacred swag, and one could not irritate

him in any way so quickly and so surely as by an attack upon that

venerable institution. If I ventured to cautiously hint that there

was not another respectable family in England that would humble

itself to hold out the hat--however, that is as far as I ever got;

he always cut me short there, and peremptorily, too.

But I believed I saw my chance at last. I would form this crack

regiment out of officers alone--not a single private. Half of it

should consist of nobles, who should fill all the places up to

Major-General, and serve gratis and pay their own expenses; and

they would be glad to do this when they should learn that the rest

of the regiment would consist exclusively of princes of the blood.

These princes of the blood should range in rank from Lieutenant-General

up to Field Marshal, and be gorgeously salaried and equipped and

fed by the state. Moreover--and this was the master stroke

--it should be decreed that these princely grandees should be always

addressed by a stunningly gaudy and awe-compelling title (which

I would presently invent), and they and they only in all England

should be so addressed. Finally, all princes of the blood should

have free choice; join that regiment, get that great title, and

renounce the royal grant, or stay out and receive a grant. Neatest

touch of all: unborn but imminent princes of the blood could be

_born_ into the regiment, and start fair, with good wages and a

permanent situation, upon due notice from the parents.

All the boys would join, I was sure of that; so, all existing

grants would be relinquished; that the newly born would always

join was equally certain. Within sixty days that quaint and

bizarre anomaly, the Royal Grant, would cease to be a living fact,

and take its place among the curiosities of the past.