H.M.I.
JUDGE (_pianissimo_): “It was managed by a job.”
ALL: “And a good job too.”--W. S. Gilbert.
I returned to the hunt after the elusive brief. The life of this class
of hunter is familiar to readers of fiction. It is _ex hypothesi_
without incident. Month after month went on, and the Woolsack came no
nearer. But one night, dining at the Club, I met a friendly official
from Whitehall. Had I heard that the Lord President was going to
appoint a batch of Inspectors, and that he had expressed an opinion
that the Inspectors of Returns were entitled to first claim? I had
heard nothing, but the idea took root, and I made immediate application.
It happened by specially good fortune that my father knew two of
the Ministry, one of whom was in the Cabinet. The services of both
statesmen were invoked; my former chief in North Wales supported
me, rather out of the goodness of his heart, I fear, than out of
conviction, for he regarded me as a firebrand; and others, of whom the
most helpful and thorough was my former tutor at Rugby, the present
Dean of Wells, did kindest service. In a few days a letter from the
Lord President to the friendly Cabinet Minister was forwarded to my
father; it ran thus:
“Dear ----
I have had great pleasure in putting your friend Mr. Kynnersley’s name
on my list.
Yours sincerely,
Carabas.”
And on a folded corner was a note: “_Thanks for appointing X.Y._” It
was evident that X.Y. and I had been bartered. I always regret that I
did not make a note of X.Y.’s real name, so that I might have followed
up his public career.
Last scene of all. Some three weeks later my clerk, of whom indeed I
owned barely one-fourth undivided share, came to my lodgings before I
had breakfasted, with the extraordinary news that there was a brief
for me in Chambers. This had never occurred before. There were briefs
at Sessions and Assizes, few and far between, but in Paper Buildings
hitherto the solicitors had respected the privacy of my apartment. I
took a hansom as soon as possible, and drove to the Temple. There on
the table was a real brief, and side by side with it lay an official
envelope containing my appointment as “one of H.M. Inspectors of
Schools.” This was dramatic. I accepted the brief, which instructed
me to examine a bankrupt in Chambers, and I examined him accordingly.
Never was I more convinced of my unpreparedness for the Woolsack.
It remained to interview the Secretary of the Department; and to leave
a card on the Lord President, who regretted that he was so busy that he
could not see me. Bear in mind that I did not see him; my thanks were
received vicariously by his private secretary.
Now let me pause. Should I have “told tales out of school” about that
letter? I doubt. And yet I decide in favour of the reader. As far as
I am concerned, I think meanly of the man who will hide a good story
because it is to his own disparagement; and I think that the Marquis of
Carabas is untouched in his honour, I would even say in his judgment.
Remember that I had all necessary qualifications for the post,
including practical experience, in addition to good testimonials. And
then you admit that it was an admirable appointment? That being so, I
will let the story stand.
Some twenty-five years afterwards it happened that I was on a cycling
tour, and chance brought me to a noble park which, by the courtesy
of the owner, was open to cyclists. At the entrance there was the
usual instruction to cyclists to ring a bell on approaching people
or carriages; but bell-ringing had already fallen into disuse as an
indispensable ceremony, though retained for emergencies. Therefore,
when I saw a wagonette drawn up in the middle of the park road, I
did not ring; it was the first year of “free-wheelers,” and I merely
slackened pace, and planned circumvention of the carriage. In the
wagonette sat an elderly gentleman, who looked reproachfully at me
and said, “Yes, but you didn’t ring your bell.” The experienced Civil
Servant acquires a habit of not “answering back”; he keeps silence
even from good words, and I did not reply that I never rang a bell
unless I wanted something; that I did not wish him to move; nor had I
any intention of running into his carriage, which would have buckled
my front wheel. Merely I looked at him with some surprise, and rode on
pondering on the phenomenon.
Suddenly it flashed across my mind that this was the monarch of all
he surveyed--my Lord of Carabas, formerly Lord President of the
Council, patron of my youth, whom I had failed to see when I called in
Whitehall; through whose discernment in the selection of Inspectors I
had been battening on the Consolidated Fund for a quarter of a century.
Ring a bell! I would have rung a triple bob major. Should I go back,
and explain, ringing carillons as I drew near? Long before I could
decide, I had left the park far behind. It was a Hard Case, such as the
ingenious editor of _Vanity Fair_ propounds for solution every week.
What should A. do?
This is quite irrelevant to the preparations for my assumption of
office. I had to pass a medical examination, and then I was gazetted.
In that day, and up to 1903, Inspectors of Schools were actually
appointed by the Sovereign in Council, and for this reason they were
really entitled to the prefix H.M., which is assumed by many other
inspectors “of lesser breed.”[11]
This being done, I bade an informal farewell to the Bar, and put away
my wig and gown in a safe place, to be resumed if I were dismissed
from office. Once only was an attempt made to entice me back to the
Law Courts. At a London hotel, some few years after my appointment,
I met a County Court Judge whom I had known in his caterpillar stage.
He hailed me. Had I heard that old Z., County Court Judge at Y., was
dying? I did not know the man, but I expressed decent regret.
“I thay, Kynnerthley,” he went on, with the lisp so familiar to many
common juries, “why thouldn’t you go in for hith plathe? I know ----
hath much interetht with the Government, and he would get it for you.”
“My dear Judge,” I said, “you forget that I have left the Bar some
time, and that when I was at it I had no practice.”
He looked at me pityingly: “What doth that matter? Do you know Q., now
County Court Judge at Dufferby? Give you my word he hadn’t got a wig
and gown.”
“Good gracious! why did the Chancellor appoint him?”
“_He taught in Thunday Thcoolth in Twaddleton._”
Alas! I had not even that scanty qualification, and I did not apply.
The suitors at Y. have much to be thankful for.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] A recently created H.M.I. assures me that the method of
appointment by the Sovereign is unaltered. I apologise.