Minister Two passed on, and Minister “Three” reigned in his stead.
He had been acting Minister for nearly a year before the death of
Two. Three was a successful business man, alert, brisk, far-seeing
and active. Why he bothered with the game of politics I never could
understand. He was a man of large means and did not need politics,
except as an amusement. In the days of Ping-Pong, Three rose to be the
Minister of Ways and Means, became a power of the first magnitude, made
his blunder, which cost him his political head, and went back to the
ways of peace and privacy.
In Ottawa, as elsewhere, there is society and Society. Political
Society is not necessarily Society with the capital letter. Any
Society is apt to be mixed, but the mixture in political circles
is particularly amusing, one full of surprises and odd contrasts.
A politician from a small town attired in his first evening dress,
making a courageous attempt to appear perfectly at ease at levee or
reception, is an amusing spectacle to the sophisticated. If you have
ever seen a young pup, before he has found his legs, attempting to jump
upon a chair which is twice as high as himself, you have some idea of
how a rough-necked politician looks amongst people accustomed to a
drawing-room.
Mr. and Mrs. Wesblock were in the political swim. We could not afford
to be in it, but we could not afford to keep out of it. A Minister’s or
Deputy’s invitation to an extra clerk is a compliment he must accept;
it is nearly a command. Many an evening I have suffered agony for fear
I should lose one or two of my very scarce and precious dollars in a
game of ten cent draw poker in which I had to play whether I would or
no. With Muriel’s assistance I managed to keep a bold front. Her pose
of ease and contempt for small things, under difficult circumstances,
is most convincing.
I must now return to the affairs of my wife’s family, and to my
mother-in-law, who had become at length reconciled to me as a member
of the family, and almost looked upon me as a son. It appears to be a
kind of law in nature or society, that one individual of a family must
be sacrificed, in one way or another, for the benefit of the rest. At
least if it is not a law it is something which frequently happens, and
the one offered up is often the best in the family. It happened so in
the Joseph family. Of Mrs. Joseph’s three sons, the two elder ones went
out into the world and made their own way, more or less successfully.
The eldest son materially assisted his mother, up to the time of his
marriage, after which the whole burden of Mrs. Joseph and her daughters
fell upon the youngest son. He took up his load cheerfully and without
complaint, bearing a grown man’s burden before he was much out of his
teens.
My observation of the mother-in-law is that she enjoys a serio-comic
reputation which she does not deserve. This is partly due to comic
papers, but is mostly brought about by thankless, thoughtless and
selfish youth, who magnifies the officiousness born of desire to help,
and overlooks the many real and substantial benefits which flow from
the mother-in-law. It would be a poor look-out indeed for many young
families if it were not for the defending hand of the mother-in-law.
It is a very human trait in the young to hate the hand that gives, and
fawn upon the strong and masterful hand that smites or governs.
Mrs. Joseph overcame her strong dislike for me, and took me into her
heart, for the sake of her great love for Muriel and Muriel’s children.
Her desire to be near Muriel and the grand-children led her to take the
very important step of influencing her youngest son, Duke, to become
a Civil servant, so that she might live in Ottawa. Duke had a good
position, so was in no way forced, as I was, to become a Civil servant,
but he gave way to the desires of his mother. As the family still
retained some of the social and political influence it had enjoyed
during the life-time of Doctor Joseph a good position was easily
secured for Duke, and the Joseph family joined the Wesblock family in
Ottawa. These things happened just prior to the coming of Minister
Three.
Young Joseph at once showed a marked talent for steering the difficult
course of a high official in the service of the King; and the Joseph
home became a small, but by no means insignificant, centre of social
life and unofficial political activity. Mrs. Joseph had lost the
material means of keeping up the position she enjoyed during the
Doctor’s life-time, but she had never entirely lost social prestige.
She was one of the few people who can do that kind of thing.
Young Joseph was brought into close contact with Minister Three through
his position. Events happened easily, when they once began to happen.
Minister Three became a warm personal friend of the Joseph family, and
had great confidence and liking for Duke. The rest was simple. My case
was soon told, and Minister Three acted promptly. I am prejudiced in
his favour; but apart from personal feelings, I may truly state that
when his turn came to pass on, many members of the staff, high and low,
who had seen other Ministers leave the Department of Ways and Means
without a word of regret, said they were sorry when we lost him.
So after a long wait of five years, and many battles, I received an
official name, and the fifteen hundred per annum so long withheld. I
did not find it a fortune when I got it, but I was an Inspector of Pot
Holes by Order-in-Council, and moved into a personal office, which
separated me from the herd. Things brightened up immediately. “To him
that hath shall be given.” I had been scribbling for years without
finding much outlet for my literary product; but upon my being made
Inspector of Pot Holes, I had an important article accepted by a paper,
others by a magazine. In this way, together with music teaching, I
began to make again quite a respectable income. Again the world seemed
to be mine, and all things lay at my feet. I would inspect pot holes
as they had never been inspected. I would rise from pot holes in the
basement to the first floor, and so on to the roof. My ambitious dreams
were short. The first pot hole I put my nose into I found a gentleman,
who I discovered was Assistant-Superintendent of Pot Holes.
The Assistant-Superintendent addressed me. He said: “Who the
blankety-blank are you?” Although his hands were dirty, he needed
a shave, and his breath was unmistakably rummy, I was polite and
smiling, and informed him of my title and name, referring him to my
Order-in-Council. “Get to blazes out of this,” he said. “Go back to
your cage; when I need a dude like you, I will send for you.”
Downright rude as he was, I smiled in reply, knowing that he would
keep. The next pot hole disclosed another type—a very old but hearty
person, who informed me that he was the General Superintendent
of Pot Holes. This was very discouraging to a man who wished to
revolutionise pot holes. I was Inspector of Pot Holes by law, and I
was going to inspect pot holes, and make them give up their secrets
or die. The Assistant-Superintendent did not want me, and the General
Superintendent did not want me; but that made no difference. I went to
the Deputy Minister.
“Who is your superior officer?” he asked.
“Well,” I said, “it rather appears that I have several. I have only
looked into two pot holes, but I found a superior officer in each one.
The least superior, who drinks rum, invited me to go to Gehenna. Must I
go?”
“Your place,” said the Deputy, “is to do what you are told by your
superior officers, and keep cool.”
I have been trying to keep cool ever since. It is a difficult feat for
some people. Some time afterwards I ventured to suggest promotion for
myself, to the same deputy. He said, “Wesblock, I expected things from
you, and have been disappointed. You have not made good.”
“Really, Mr. Deputy,” I said, “you surprise me. I never even suspected
that I was to make good. At every pot hole into which I put my head, I
receive blows, if I am not thrown out bodily. Superior officers infest
every pot hole I can find. You have told me to go when I am told, and
to come when I am called, and to keep cool. I have done these things;
as you say that I have not made good, I will bid you good-morning.”
And I left him to think about my position.
My thinking was fruitful in that I changed my tactics. I inspected pot
holes without consideration for any one but myself. I inspected them
as it seemed to me they should be inspected, and reported only to the
highest pot hole officer within reach, without going through Chief
Inspector, Assistant-Superintendent, or Superintendent. These tactics
gave me much trouble at first, but they worked out well in the end.
In trying to serve four or five superior officers, I had failed to
give satisfaction to any one. In fact they seemed to have conspired
to belittle me with the Deputy, possibly in the fear that I might get
preferment. Over all my superior officers was the High Chief Pot Hole
Expert; a small, hook-nosed individual, who, although of an unpleasant
and hard disposition, was honest, just and far-seeing. He did not take
to me very kindly at first, but by a smiling and ever-ready willingness
on my part, and with much patience and perseverance, I forced him at
last to take consideration of me and my work.
My Third Minister, having been indiscreet in several directions, was
forced to retire to private life. Exactly what was his indiscretion no
one seemed to know. Of course, all kinds of tales, most of them quite
untrue, were told about the matter. The fact remains that he retired
suddenly and my Fourth Minister took his place.
The Fourth Minister was full of guile; smooth and wily in all his ways.
A quiet man of few words, biding his time like a fat spider, with a
good retentive web in which he had perfect confidence. You have no
doubt observed such spiders. They are never in a wild rush when a fly
gets into their meshes. They know that any fly that falls into their
web is surely caught, so they proceed very quietly and leisurely,
without excitement, towards the business of tying up Mr. Fly, and
extracting his vital fluid.
My Fourth Minister was the instrument of Providence in my release from
pot holes.
He and I had never met, but of course I knew him by sight. One
Government holiday, when the buildings were deserted, I came to my
office for one purpose or another. Mr. “The Fourth” was by Fate moved
similarly. We met in the hall.
“Good morning, Mr. Minister,” I said, touching my hat respectfully.
“Oh, good morning, Mr. Ah——, Mr. Ah——” He stumbled over my name, of
which he had no idea. “Coming to see me, I suppose? Well, I’m sorry,
but I’m very busy this morning. If you will write me a letter in your
matter, I will give it my attention.”
I appreciated in a second the mistake he had made. Never dreaming that
I was only one of his employees, he had jumped to the conclusion that I
was some one wanting something, who had lain in wait for him. I thanked
him profusely, shook his hand once more, and left him promising to
write the letter about the matter, which was unknown to both of us.
Four congratulated himself that he had put off some one, who was about
to ask for something. I thought little of the incident at the time, but
it turned out important, as will be seen. Several weeks passed by, and
I had nearly forgotten the occurrence when Mr. Clay of Montreal walked
into my office. Mr. Clay had been one of my old acquaintances. He had
been in many business ventures, and had made much money. He really did
not need any more money than he had, but he liked the business game for
itself. It was the only game he could play. After we had greeted each
other, and he was seated by my desk, he explained the reason of his
call.
“I am here,” he said, “to see you in the first place.”
“Indeed.”
“Yes. I believe you can be of some use to me. As you know, I am in many
things. One of the most important is our Blank factory. Now for reasons
which I need not explain just now, I need your Minister. I am going to
see him this morning, but before going to him I thought it might be
wise to call on you and discover what manner of man he is. I want you
to warn me against any peculiarities he may have; tell me when and how
to see him; and how best to approach him.”
At once I saw an opportunity for a little mild amusement. “You have
come to the right man,” I assured him. “I know my Minister like a book.
Now listen to me. He is not difficult to see. Any one can see him, but
to get anything out of him is quite another matter. He is smooth, very
smooth. He will listen to you with patience; he will smile knowingly
and be deeply interested in your affairs. When you are run down, he
will turn quietly and blandly to you and say, ‘Well, Mr. Clay, I quite
understand you. _Write me a letter in the matter, and it will have my
earnest attention._ I am busy this morning, so will bid you good-bye.’
If you leave him then you are done. You will never see him again,
and your letters will all be filed. I give you this information in
confidence, for what it is worth; govern yourself accordingly.”
“That,” said Mr. Clay, “is just the kind of information I want. I
assure you I am very glad to get it. Now I know what to do.” And he
left me to visit the Minister.
Three days afterwards I met Clay on Sparks Street. When he caught sight
of me his face was wreathed in smiles. He grasped me warmly by the hand
and said, “Wesblock, you are certainly a prophet.”
“How?” I asked.
“Why, my boy, it was really funny. I was coming to see you this morning
to tell you all about it. I saw your Minister and everything happened
just as you said it would. When he said, ‘_Write me a letter in the
matter_,’ I nearly laughed in his face; but being forewarned I was
ready for him. I said, ‘No, Mr. Minister, I will not write any letter.
I will come again as often as you like, but I want this matter settled,
and your decision to act or not to act given to me personally.’ Well,
sir, he was taken back. He hummed and hawed, and I followed him up and
landed him just like a fish. I leave for Montreal to-day. You will hear
something from me soon.”
I had lunch with Clay that day, and told him how I had come to be
informed of the Minister’s method. Clay left for Montreal in the
afternoon. Within thirty days he once more sat in my office. He had
momentous things to say to me. He was so pleased with himself, with my
Minister, with his business, and with me, that he offered me a very
good position in one of his large manufacturing companies, which I
refused on the spot without much consideration.
“What!” said Clay in astonishment, when he heard my decision, “you
refuse to come out of the rut? I fully expected you to fall upon my
neck and shed tears of joy.”
“Yes,” I replied, “I have to refuse. In fifteen years my roots have
gone down too far. Your offer comes too late. There was a time when I
would have fallen upon your neck and wept tears of gratitude. Now, I
can only refuse with thanks. If you desire to be of assistance to me
you may do so while leaving me to my Civil Service fate.”
“Tell me how,” said Clay, “and I will be very happy to do anything I
can do.”
“Well,” I said, “I believe I am above pot holes. You are a powerful
person in the business world. You move among people of influence. Bring
me into the favourable notice of my Minister.”
“My dear Wesblock,” said Clay, “it is a sad sight to see a man of your
type with ambition dead.”
“My ambition is not dead,” I said, “it is only subdued and is more
modest than formerly. I have ambition still, but my desires are towards
things that I believe are best for a man of my kind.”
“You always were an odd fish,” he said. “I cannot understand you. Are
you the same Wesblock whom I remember? The gambler and sport who began
with a shoe string, and ended with a hundred thousand dollars?”
The sum he mentioned made me smile. “Not as much as that, Clay,” I
said, “that is more than four times as much as I ever was worth.”
“Well, anyhow,” he said, “you made a great deal of money in a very
short time, and then threw up the game.”
“Yes, I did,” said I, “but I am happier now than I was then.”
“Happy!” he exclaimed, “happy? Are you really happy?”
“Comparatively, yes,” I answered. “I am as close to happiness as any
one I know.”
“Then you are indeed to be congratulated,” said Clay. “I will see what
can be done towards making you more so, for I like you. You have always
amused me, and sometimes instructed me, and you have been useful to me
once at least.”
This closed the argument, and he left me with smiles, promises and
compliments; he was a genial soul for a mere business man with one idea.
I was sorry in many ways to refuse Clay’s offer, but I had four young
Wesblocks to be thought of who were no longer children. I believed
that it would have been very unwise to transplant them when they had
so benefited by the Ottawa soil. The social and mental atmosphere of
Ottawa is a very different thing from that of modern Montreal, who, as
she grows in size and wealth becomes contaminated with all the social
diseases of the great American cities.