In the good old days of yore there was little trouble in obtaining
admission to the Civil Service. All that was necessary was a slight
knowledge of a Cabinet Minister, and a smattering of schooling. The
latter might be obtained at Eton, Winchester, Rugby, Westminster, or
Harrow. The acquaintance of the Minister, of course, had to be made by
your father. You were too young to have attracted the attention of so
important a personage. Suppose you had reached the mature age of
eighteen, and had given up the round jackets and collars of boyhood, and
had assumed "stick-ups" and "cutaways," your father would probably ask
you "What you intended to do next?"
"No, my dear fellow," would be the paternal reply to a suggestion about
Trinity or Christ Church. "I am afraid I can't manage either. You see,
your two elder brothers went to the University, but then we could find
_them_ family livings. It would be useless to let you read for the Bar,
because we haven't any of us married into a single firm of Solicitors;
and in these hard times I really can't afford to buy you a commission."
You would notice _sotto voce_ that when ways and means were being
discussed, times were always hard.
"I suppose you could be a doctor if you pleased; but walking the
hospitals is not a particularly pleasant occupation. Then there is
another opening--why not try the Civil Service?"
You would rather freshen up at this. You would have read in a comic
paper, that never will be nameless, that Government clerks were like the
fountains in Trafalgar Square (old style), "because they played from ten
to four."
"Well, yes," you would return. "I don't think I should mind that so
much. It would be rather fun to go to Paris as an _attaché_."
"I'm afraid I couldn't quite manage that, my dear boy," your fond parent
would respond. "They don't pay _attachés_ at first, and so you would
have to be satisfied with the War Office or the Admiralty instead of the
Foreign Office."
"All right, Pater," you would say, and leave the matter in the hands of
the elder generation.
Then your father would write to any Cabinet Minister of his acquaintance
about things in general and nothing in particular, and would add a
"P.S." asking for a nomination. In due course a reply would come
granting the sweet boon. A test examination would follow of a
perfunctory character, and an intimation of your appointment would be
the sequel. Then you would take up your daily residence in Pall Mall or
Whitehall for twenty or thirty years and then retire as a Knight or a
C.B. Thus was done in the comparatively long ago. But now-a-days another
plan has to be adopted.
Instead of entering the Civil Service as a junior join it as a senior.
As a preliminary you must get into the House. This is simpler than
having to cram and then stand the racket of a competitive examination.
Any one under certain conditions can enter Parliament, but the Civil
Service Commissioners bar the entrance to the Government offices with
equally certain regulations. For the sake of argument let me assume that
you are in the House. You have stood for Slocum-on-the-Marsh, and have
persuaded the Slocum-on-the-Marshers to elect you. As an M.P. you are
duly qualified to accept any appointment under the Crown when the
Government ask you. The best plan is to think of an office and then add
one to it--yourself.
"Why not the Public Squander Department?" you ask yourself. To which you
reply with a second question, "Why not?"
Yes, the P. S. D. is not half bad. But how to get into it. Well, why not
take up Milestones? All the world knows that the Public Squander
Department are responsible for all the Milestones not under the
superintendence of the county authorities. Go for the Milestones.
Begin with a question. Learn that the Milestones in the Old Bath Road
are in many cases illegible. Request the Secretary of the Public
Squander Department to inform you when the inscription of such and such
a Milestone was last restored? The official will fence the query.
Probably his Private Secretary, considering you a new man, will have
failed to furnish the necessary information. You must expect a little
retardation at the first set-off.
And here let me point out for your future guidance the importance of
having a private secretary thoroughly up to his work. Had your answerer
been possessed of the proper sort of assistant you would have been
discovered, respectfully button-holed, and perforce satisfied. You would
never have had the heart to put your question about the Milestones. But
the particular Private Secretary of your answerer being _not_ up to his
work you get snubbed.
But don't be discouraged; stick to your Milestones.
[Illustration]
Bombard "the Right Hon. Gentleman opposite" with questions. Ask him for
particulars about the Milestones in the Old Kent Road and on Salisbury
Plain. If he requests notice, give him notice. By degrees you will find
that you are becoming an institution. Milestones are your specialty.
When the House is sitting demand particulars. When the House is up,
write to the papers. Move for returns about Milestones. Go down to
Slocum-on-the-Marsh and read papers on Milestones. If possible, be made
a F.S.A. on the strength of your knowledge of Milestones. So identify
yourself with Milestones that when your name is casually mentioned
anywhere, let it be common form for some one to say, "Of course, the
chap who looks after the Milestones."
Wait patiently until your side move over from the Opposition to the
Government benches. Then will come your opportunity. You will have sat
upon a Milestone Commission. You have been very instrumental in getting
Milestones polished. You have caused Milestones to be multiplied. All
these services must be recognised. And they will.
You will find yourself offered the Secretaryship of the Public Squander
Department--to take care of the Milestones. Accept it. You will now have
become a Civil Servant. On some future occasion I may suggest how you
may successfully perform your duties in your new position.
[Illustration: A REALIST IN FICTION.
"I SAW A RABBIT RUN THROUGH THAT HEDGE!"
"NO, DEAR. IT WAS IMAGINATION!"
"ARE 'MAGINATIONS WHITE BEHIND?"]
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DEFINITION.--A London Square is the Paradise of Perambulators.
* * * * *