In all the new Professions, chemistry, physics, biology, zoology, geology, botany, and the other branches of science, engineering, mining, surveying, assying, architecture, actuary work—­everything—­long a apprenticeship was needed with special studies in costly colleges.

In Teaching, he who aspired to the more distinguished branches had no chance at all, unless he was a graduate in the highest honours of Oxford and Cambridge.

In the Arts—­painting, sculpture, music—­long practice, devoted study, and exclusive thought were essential.

The Civil Service was divided into two branches, both open to competitive examination.  The higher branch attracted first-class men of Oxford and Cambridge; the lower, clever and well-taught men from the Middle Class Schools.  But the latter could not pass into the former.

In the Army, the only branch in which a man could live upon his pay was the scientific branch, open to anybody who could compete in a very stiff examination after a long and very expensive course of study, and could pay L200 a year for two or three years after entrance.  In the other branches of the services, a young lieutenant could not live upon his pay.

In the Navy the examinations were frequent and severe, while the pay was very small.

The barrier, therefore, which kept the Professions in the hands of the upper classes was a simple tollgate.  At the toll stood a man.  ‘Come,’ he said, holding out an inexorable palm.  ’With an education which has cost you already a thousand pounds, be ready to pay down another thousand more.  Then you shall be admitted among the ranks of those for whom are reserved the highest prizes of the State—­viz., Authority, Honour, and Wealth.’

It is apparent, then, that no one could enter the Professions who had no money.  No need to write up ’None but the sons of gentlemen may apply.’  Very many sons of gentlemen, in fact, had to turn away sorrowfully after gazing with wistful eyes upon that ladder which they knew that they, too, could climb, as well as a Denman or an Erskine.  As for the sons of poor parents, they could not so much as think of the ladder:  they hardly knew that it existed:  they cared nothing about it.  As well sigh for the Lord Mayor’s gilt carriage and four, or the Field Marshal’s baton.  No poor lad could aspire to the Professions at all.  In other words, out of a population of thirty-seven millions, or eight millions of families, the way of distinction was open only to the young man belonging to the half million families—­perhaps less—­who could expend upon their son’s education a thousand pounds apiece.

Nor for a long time was the exclusion felt or even recognised.  He who wished to rise out of the working class either became a small master of his own trade, or else he opened a small shop of some kind.  But he did not aspire to become a physician or a barrister or a clergyman.  And it never occurred to him that such a career could be open to him.