It does not take very long to make yourself quite at home as Secretary
of the Public Squander Department--the office I will suppose you to
be filling. You will find everything ready to your hand. All you will
have to remember is this--the golden rule of the Service--that what
was done last year, should be followed this, and arranged for next.
Ministries may come and Cabinets may go, but the P. S. D. continues
for ever. The policy of the office must never be disturbed. If it has
been the custom (say) to put orange-trees in the open spaces under
the control of the Department out to bloom in February, under no
consideration whatever must the date be changed. It may be advanced
(generally in the newspapers when there is nothing more interesting
ripe for discussion) that July would be the better month. It may be
declared that an orange-tree taken from a hothouse and thrust into
the uncertain atmosphere of the Metropolis, and indeed the provinces,
stands less chance of weathering that climate in the second month of
the year than it would in the seventh. That may be very true, but
what has been done by the Public Squander Department once should be
repeated for ever. If an alteration has to be made it must not be
accomplished except "under-pressure." Questions must be asked in
the House, returns moved for, and all the rest of it. So long as the
alteration can be resisted, it is the duty of every member of the
Department to stand shoulder to shoulder to oppose. You will find a
case in point in the matter of your own pet grievance the condition
of "Milestones." You will recollect (if you have a good memory) that
"Milestones" were the steps of the staircase that led you from the
hall of Parliament to the comfortable apartments reserved for the
special use of the Secretary of the P. S. D.
[Illustration]
"I do not think we need bother about those Milestones," you will say
to the Chief Clerk after you have got accustomed to your messengers
and have chosen your easiest of easy chairs; "I daresay there are many
matters of more pressing importance."
The courteous official to whom you have made the suggestion will
readily acquiesce, and then inform you that a deputation are anxious
to see you upon the subject. And here you will find one of the
disadvantages inseparably connected with making a question exclusively
your own. The moment you come into power you are expected to do
something. It is of course unreasonable, but none the less for that
unavoidable.
[Illustration]
"I think you had better see them, Sir," the Chief Clerk will observe.
"They know the ropes fairly well, and I do not think we shall get much
peace until you have got rid of them. Of course, we have sent them
travelling a bit, but they have got back to us at last."
"Sent them a--travelling?" you will query.
"Well, yes. We have referred them to this department, where they have
been asked to apply to that. They have been passed on from office to
office until they have come back to us. It is the rule of the game.
And now I think the time has arrived when you should see them in
person."
Of course, you have nothing to do but to take your subordinate's
advice. It is one of the regulations of the Civil Service that the
tail wags the dog. It stands to reason that a man who has grown grey
in the Department is more likely to know the business of the bureau
better than you who have just joined. So the spokesman of the
deputation receives a polite communication informing him that you
will be pleased to see him and his friends at such and such a date.
Of course, you are furnished with the names of the friends in advance,
and your private secretary (your right-hand man) makes it his special
business to post you up in all that is necessary about them. The day
arrives, and with it the deputation. If the House is sitting, you can
see the Members in your own room. It looks well if you can show your
accosters how small a chamber you occupy, and how hard at work you
have to be at all hours of the day and night. Failing a meeting in
Parliament, you can receive them in the Department itself. In this
case contrive, if possible, to see them in official uniform. Chat with
them after you have been to a _levée_, or Cabinet, or something of
that sort. It gives you a distinct advantage if you can overawe
them with the glories of a well-feathered cocked-hat, and many yards
(chiefly on the back of your coat) of gold lace.
You will have, of course, in attendance upon you several heads of
departments. These gentlemen will say nothing, but will look wonders.
If you are at loss for figures or facts, you will glance at them and
make a bold statement. That daring declaration will, of course, be
qualified with the announcement that it is made "to the best of your
belief." You will turn your face towards the heads, and they will
receive your mute appeal with sympathetic attention. They will not
say anything, but will, I repeat, look wonders. They will not be
comprehensible, but merely convincing.
Chairs will have been set for the members of the deputation. Some
of your visitors will be personally known to you, and these you will
greet with effusion. Remember that you must be nothing if not genial.
Single out for special cordiality the spokesman. Not, of course,
one of your parliamentary colleagues who is going to introduce your
visitors to you, but the principal member of the deputation. If you
have to contradict him in the course of the interview you will have
the sympathy of his colleagues, and they will be glad to see one who
has the pleasure of your acquaintance (why should he have it more than
they?) soundly snubbed. After every one has got comfortably into their
places, you will ask if the Press are to be present. If the reply is
in the affirmative (as it most probably will be, as all deputations
like to see themselves in print), continue your generalities, and say
with a good-natured laugh, "that you must be on your guard." If the
interview is not to be reported, then you require no further guide.
You can say or do almost anything in reason. But assuming that the
reporters are to be present (and here it may be observed that, if your
private secretary knows his business, the gentlemen of the Press will
to some extent be "selected"), you must be more careful.
You will listen to your parliamentary colleague's speech of
introduction and the address of your friend the spokesman with many
silent tokens of goodwill. When there is a trace of a compliment you
will smile and bow, and if any figures are introduced you will ask to
have them repeated, and make a note of them on a piece of paper.
It does not matter what kind of paper you use, as the piece will
subsequently disappear into the basket reserved for valueless
documents.
You will ask several questions, and, when the spokesman has completed
his harangue, you will look round to see if anyone desires to follow
him. If there is any hesitation, commence your reply at once. But if
anyone is ready, let him speak. It is far better that the eloquence
of the deputation should come out (like the measles) rather than be
suppressed. When your visitors have had their turn, then will come
yours.
Of course the less you say the better. I do not mean in words, but
in purport. If you have time you can chatter for an hour, but that
chatter should be absolutely innocuous. Remember not to give yourself
away. Mind, you are bound in office by nothing you have uttered out
of it. Be genial. Indulge in small jokes. Let them be at your own
expense. Complain that you are powerless. Explain that had you your
way you would do all sorts of good things, but "that tyrant, the
Chancellor of the Exchequer," interferes. It is not the fault of the
Public Squander Department; but the crime of the Treasury. Wind up by
assuring the members of the deputation of your personal sympathy, and
assure them that you will take "an early opportunity of laying the
representations they have made before your colleagues."
By following these directions you may be sure that you will gain
golden opinions. You will be thanked with effusion for your courtesy,
and your visitors will retire entirely satisfied with the reception
that has been accorded to them.
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[Illustration: "I SAY, TIBBINS, OLD MAN, IS IT TRUE THAT YOUR WIFE HAS
BEEN ASKED TO RESIGN AT THE OMPHALE CLUB?"
"WELL, YES; YOU SEE THE COMMITTEE FOUND THAT SHE'D BEEN GUILTY OF
UNGENTLEMANLY CONDUCT."]
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