I remarked that this sin was not confined to the Principality. An English Inspector had told me a story of a school manager who came to him at the inspection about the middle of October with a lamentable account of the schoolmistress. Visiting the school a few days back he had found that the mistress was absent; and on calling at her house he had found her dead drunk. She had been but recently appointed, chiefly on the strength of an excellent character from a clerical neighbour. He added that this giving of false testimonials was immoral and unneighbourly.
(“Whether you regard him as a Christian or a neighbour,” suggested David aside, and I accepted the amendment.)
The inspector agreed, and suggested that he should prosecute his friend and get him six months. The manager said he should hardly like to do that, but it was a scandal. Meanwhile the inspector had been glancing at what we call Form IX., the paper that Evans brought just now, and on page four he read:
“Qu. (4) Are the managers satisfied with the teacher’s character, conduct, and attention to duty?”
The answer was “YES.”
“Quite so,” the official said, in continuation of the discussion, “but I think if I were you I would modify the answer to that question,” and he laid an incisive finger on Qu. (4).
The manager was not at all abashed. “That refers,” he retorted, “to her conduct up to the end of the school year, September 30. It was on October 7 that I found her so drunk.”
My modest contribution to the gaiety of the evening was received with the courtesy due to a stranger, and many similar stories followed. The Squire, who in those dark days before the invention of county councils had to give many votes in the appointment of officials, besides his own considerable share as landlord, and quarry-lord, was strong on the moral side. The Druid and David were lamentably lax. What were you to do when a poor beggar, or (still worse) a half starved widow, demanded a testimonial for himself, herself, or son?
“What I do,” said David, the Oxford casuist, “in such cases, is to ignore the special exigencies of the post. A man comes to me for help to get a place as organist. I know he can’t play any more than your Evans; so I dilate on his moral character, his tenor voice, and his excellent business capacity. The appointer looks at the signature, and says ‘Excellent man, Mr. Williams, Vicar of Llanbedr; glad to find he speaks so highly of you,’ and ten to one the man is appointed merely by reason of my superabundant merits.”
Much plain speaking followed this audacious assertion, and all talked at once for some minutes. The Squire effected a diversion by enquiring about the expected visit of a common friend named Jenkins, a returned missionary, who was to preach for his Society next Sunday. David also knew him; had entertained him as a guest at Llanbedr a fortnight before; and in turn had been entertained by him with anecdotes of his deputation tour. “In August he was staying with Hugh Hughes, Pen-y-garth, and Hugh had kept him there for three days, so cheery a guest was he. On the Monday they had started over the pass to collect some subscriptions from the farmers; it was very hot, and old Hugh is a bad walker: when they had got about half-way, Hugh stopped him and said with his delightful stammer, ‘I s-say, w-w-what do you think this f-f-fellow will give?’