LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2089, 3 November 1880, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THE OUBATE’S LAST HALF-CROWN. [From “London Society.”] (Coneluied.) I discussed matters with my wife. My ir was raallv a terribla one. An Incoming ▼ioar could eject me in six weeks. So good m curacy might not be obtainable for years ; and. Indeed, 1 might not be able to obtain viy curacy at all precisely at the moment (hat I wanted it. It was hoping against hope, but still this journey mnst be made. It was fifty miles off; but Farmer Dawson would take me over in his gig until I should Bioet a railway—a new-fangled invention betokening the end of the world, as was thought at Oherrington, and only then coming into nse. It was a longTjourney in those days ; but I started at early dawn in order that, if possible, I might see the Lord Chancellor the samo day. Tea and candles were not procurable in oar village—that is to say, of any degree of SEoellecce —and I was to buy them In London. Also, I had a mysterious mission—to •all at certain shops and get some gorgeous articles of attire for baby, with which sho was to petrify the local mind on the forthcoming occasion of her being christened. I was to attend to these things—so ran the wife’s Instructions—the very first thing of ■B, bo that I might make sure of them, I ▼orily believe that she considered the matter of the living as being of quite inferior importance to tho'matter of baby’s hood and bsanet. " . . , , , By this means my little stock of money. quite inconsiderable at she first, grew ‘ small by degrees and beautifully less.’ Emptying It out of my pockets, and examining It just before I set out to leave my card upon the Chancellor. I found that it was reduced to » single half-crown and a few smaller coins, which might possibly bring me home again, after making allowance for a crust of bread-and-cheese and a glass of beer. I duly turned the coins over—and, shall I confess it P —spat upon them for luck’s sake, according to a legend which 1 had inherited Scorn my ancestors, and set off to make the acquaintance in a friendly way of his lordship the Chancellor. But, like Bob Acres my courage was Imperceptibly oozing out of my toes as I drew near the big silent house where the great man kept the Ring’s conscience in his bag. ■jLbo tide of fashion has since ebbed westwards, and this great house is now oooupied by a retir'd currier} but to this day I always feel inclined to take off my hat in passing it. Patting on a very painful express ion of appearing to bo entirely at ease, I ascended the steps and made a courageous imitation of an aristocratic double-knock. ‘ls the Lord Chancellor at homo?’ _ I inquired of a bloated specimen of the British flunkey, who made bis appearance. *Hia lordship is not at home,’ answered the man, with jnst a suspicion of impudence in his voice.

‘Can yon tell me when he will be at borne ?’

‘No, I can’t,’ said the man, in a tone that convinced me of its insincerity, and he was evidently preparing to bang the door in my face, or something very like it. Now I had heard in my time of the virtues of palm-oiL The human hand being lubrianted with a composition of sliver becomes tender and mollified. To nss plainer terms. It occurred to mo that it might be a useful thing to bribe the British flunkey. But then arose the question of the wherewithal to bribe him, I had but my half-crown, my solitary coin of weight, my little all, my beautiful, my last. If I parted with my half-crown, I might have to trndge back to Gherrington on the sort of steed which the Bishop of Salisbury gave to the worthy Bichard Hooker, namely, a walking-staff. All my earthly hopes jnst now were centred on my having aa interview with the Lord Chancellor. I did not see any possible way of getting it u.less this fellow would give me admittance. I felt very much inclined to believe that the Chancellor might be indoors •t that very minute. With a despairing clutshl grasped my last half-crown Its seven brethren of the last sovereign which I had changed had taken to themselves wings, and had all flown away in the coarse ef the day. It was a desperate speculation, but I thought that, I would venture this last half crown ch the chance, however remote, that something good might tarn ap from It. I slipped, not without a severe twinge, the last half crown—the last rose of summer waa a mere nothing to it—and •aid—

‘ I am sure my goad fellow that yon know the way how to bring me into speech with the Lord Chancellor. ’ ‘Lor bless yon,’ he said, with a grin, as he pocketed the half-crown, which would be something fir less to him than it would be to me, ‘it’s cfjno use In the world your coming here, thinking that yon may be able to see sny Lord Chancellor. I thought that everybody knew that his lordship at this time of year is almost always in the Court of Chancery. ’ ‘Hut he comes home,’ I said, thinking that my half-crown might persuade the man at some time or other to nsher me into the august presence. * Bless your heart, we never knows when ha cornea home. He may have to go and see the Prime Minister or some other nobleman abont business ; or he may have to go down to the House of Lords ; or he may go to his private rooms at the House of Lords.’

* But he comes home,’ I repeated, with the iteranoy of despair. ‘ Tea, he comes home, ’ said the man, with another grin; bat do yoa think that he would see yoa after all his work, for all that ? Unless yon have an appointment with him, or unless you are a very great naan, or nnless yon have come to say that the House is on firs, it would be more than my place is worth to let yon in.’ I thought of reclaiming the half-crown ; bat that waa obviously impossible. ‘And do yoa mean to tay that I shall never be able to see him ?'

‘Well, elr,’ he said, ‘I see you’re a thorough gentleman, and I’ll pat yoa ap to a way by which you moat likely may be able to see him. Yoa should go to Chancery lane, air. He hu got a little private room oloae to hia court, and yon might find him there, At least yon are certain to find him there if yoa are at the place in good time. Moat likely he’ll speak to yon If yon send in yonr name and business. He’s a hafiable gentleman after all, in spite of people being no frightened of him. Bless yonr heart, sir, I'd take my chance and show yon in directly if he were at home; but though it be hia home, it’s the worst place in the world where to find him.’

At all events I had now (lot hold of a piece of definite intelligence in return for any money, I made my way to the Holborn end of Chancery lane. How well I remember 'the tall dingy houses, the confusion of public and private buildings and offices, and then the courts of law opening np its great wide silent spaces I It was a delight to me to remember that up a dark staircase we might come upoa a lovely chapel, with windows full of stained glas», and noble music, and oftentimes the silvery oratory of a gifted preacher., I threaded a variety of complications among ths law courts, where I saw quite a variety of judges sitting In robed state, aa like one another as one egg is to another egg, or one old woman to another old woman. At last I stumbled upon the Lord Chancellor’s oonrt; but I was positively Informed that ‘the court had risen,’ which legal phrase, as I subsequently gathered, signified that when the clock had pointed at four the Lord Chancellor gathered his legal petticoats around him and fled the place to recruit his vexed soul with a dry biscuit and some sherry. I was out in a minute in a decidedly dark and awkward! pea' aje. 1 And can you tell me where the Lord Chancellor is?’ leaked of a little red man against whom I stumbled in the passage, apparently another specimen of the usher species. ‘ Oan you tell me which is his private room ? ’ ‘ And what do yen want of the I ord Chancellor,’ he inquired, ‘that you want to go to bis private roam f ... ‘ That is my business, my friend,! I answered, a little nettled that “ man, proud man, dressed in a little brief authority,’’ ehonld thus put me through my paces. • And what is your business ?' inquired the man, fixing upon mo one of the sharpest and moat penetrating glances that I ever felt in my life. ‘The world’s a wide one, my friend, ’ I answered, ‘and there’s room enough in it both for you and me, 1 suppose I may want

to Bee the Lord Chancellor without telling you all about it.’ • But I am the Lord Chanoellor,’ Bald the little old man, with another of thoao penotratinz gazes. I was really so dumbfonndered that I did not at all know what to aay, ‘You look to me,’he said, with another of those sharp looks which literally seemed to transfix one, • like some poor devil of a curate who’s come out of the country to bother me about some living.’ * My lord,’ 1 said, ‘you have stated the facts of the case with great accuracy. lam an unfortunate curate who has come up to London on purpose to apeak about a living.’ ‘ Come in here,’ ho said, with an amused twinkle of the eye and a not unkindly voice. * I was jnst going away for the day, but I can spare yon five minutes.’ ‘ He led the way Into a small room, comfoitably but very plainly furnished, nothing like so good as my own study at Cherrington vicarage. • Who are you, and what do yon want?’ he said, with an almost cruel abruptness. I stated my case in a few brief, but I really think 1 may venture to say vigorous and well chosen words. At least I had conned them again and again daring my recent journeying, in case 1 should manage to get an interview. • Have you any references or papers of any kind P ’ ‘ None my lord, except a few words from my bishop. Ho is the only person of _ influence with whom I have any acquaintance.’ *‘ The Bishop of ——. I think Oherrington is in his diocese. ’ * Jnst eo, my lord.* And I produced the bishop’s brief testimonial letter. The Chancellor rapidly glanced at it, and next he glanced at bis watch. * I see, Mr Vavasour, that the five minutes of which I spoke to you are out. ’ I stood mute and disappointed. ‘ Would eight o’clock in the morning be too early for you to call on me at my residence ? ’

‘ O no. my lord,’ I said. I should have said the same thing respecting any other he might have named. He gave me a nod, w hioh I rightly interpreted as a dismissal. In a few minutes I was blundering; halfdazed, among the cabs, carts, and omnibuses of Chancery Lane, I had no other coarse than to go to an hotel and remain there In person until Mr Dawson, in his capacity of father-in-law or churchwarden, should release me, with a view to Sunday’s duties.

I was close to the Lord Chancellor’s house the next morning, and bung abont it till the bells of a neighboring church should clash eight. I then gave my customary double-knock. My friend of the preceding afternoon opened It, and for a moment a pantomimic gesture of surprise stole over his impassive features. Without a word he ushered me into a dining-room close by. It was a dull, cold morning, and the Lord High Chancellor was stretching his right honorable person on a rug in front of the fire. He advanced and shook hands

* Ah, Mr Vavasour, good morning! Have yon breakfasted ? ’ As a matter of fact, I had only had a biscuit and a glass of water. So I said that I had not.

‘ Very well Then you shall have some breakfiat with me. Burroughs,’ to the man, ‘ bring some cold chicken and another tea-cup.’ I sat down amazed. In all my experience I had never heard of the like of this—that I should take a friendly bit of breakfast with the Lord Chancellor, * Now, Mr Vavasour, not to keep‘you in any suspense, I may tell yon at once that I mean to give you my Hving of Cherrington.’

‘ My lord, my lord ! ’ ‘I find, Mr Vavasour, that yon are a scholar, which is not the case with every clergyman. I find, also, that yon have so far managed the parish of Gherrington very creditably. I have these two facta on the excellent testimony of the Bishop of Now I assure yon, Mr Vavasour, that I have very often great anxiety about these livings. I am moat anxions to appoint the bast man. The difficulty is to find out the best man. Bat in the present case I have no difficulty on this point. I oan place the utmost re-, lianoe npon your bishop’s recommendation.’

- * I am sure, my lord, that I will do my very best all my days to deserve it.’ *I am quite sure yon will. Bat I appoint yon simply and solely npon the strength of what the Bishop of, says about yon, I have not sat so long with him in the Upper House without seeing how thoroughly good and honest he Is. And please tell the bishop when you next see him, with my best regards, that I have had great pleasure in giving yon this living in consequence of his favorable report. After breakfast I will give yon a hue to my secretary of presentation, who will put you in the way of all necessary steps.’ I hardly know how I got through my breakfast, but in some fashion I did so, and I know that it did me good. With a fall heart I left the house, knowing that m/ fortune was made. I glanced at Burroughs, the man in the hall. If I had had the money in my pocket, his half-crown ought to have blossomed into a five pound note. Bat I regret to confess that Burroughs baa never received the five pound note. Indeed, though I waa now practically beneficed clergyman, I had nothing la my pocket that could take me home. The thought occurred to me that I might ask cousin of mine, a lawyer in a good way of business, to help me, I wont and asked him to lend mo a sovereign to enable me to return home.

* No,’ he said, buttoning np hla sensitive breeches pockets, * I make a rale never to lend anything to anybody.’ ‘As a minister of the Gospel I mnst remind you that we are told that we ought at times to lend.’

‘ Mr Vavasour, I am perfectly shocked to hear a clergyman of the Church of England talk in snob a way. I knew too yon had made a poor sort of marriage; but I did not th<nk that you had sank so low as to be driven to borrow a sovereign.’ ‘ I don’t know what yon mean by sinking so low. I only know that the Lord Chancellor, with whom I have just breakfasted, has given me the living of Gherrington, which is more than four hundred a year.’ ‘Whewl’ said my second cousin, with a sort of gasp. * That quite alters the case. Now I daresay, my dear Vavasour, that yon will want some money to pay induction expenses, stamp doty, dues to Queen Anne’s Bounty office, and that sort of thing. I can land you a hundred pounds on the usual business terms.

I did not express my opinion of the fellow, but borrowed a proffered sovereign to enable mo to return to Mary and the little ones, I sent it back to him in the shape of a guinea next day, and have not seen him from that day to this. It is astonishing how ready people are to oblige yon when you are reality independent of their help. Even dear old Dawson left me, I believe, a much bigger slice of his property than he wonld have done If I had been a poor man. This was the way In which I planted my footsteps on the first rang of the ladder of clerical promotion, of that great success in life, for which I cannot feel too humble and too grateful.

[This was substantially a story of early days which a very distinguished dignitary used to relate of himself. Its leading incident Is strictly true, and seems worthy of a safer record than mere tradition ]