THE POLITE GUIDE TO THE CIVIL SERVICE.
(By an Affable Philosopher and Courteous Friend.)
The Choice of a Private Secretary.
Having explained the mode of entering the service of the Crown by becoming the Secretary of the Public Squander Department, I now proceed to consider the best manner in which you should comport yourself in that position. The moment it is known that you have accepted the appointment you will receive a deluge of letters recommending various aspiring young gentlemen for the post of Private Secretary. Of course the notes must be civilly answered, but on no account pledge yourself to any one of the writers. And here I may give what may be termed the golden rule of the service, "always be polite to the individual in particular, and contemptuous to the public in general." The tradition of many generations of officials has been to regard outsiders as enemies. There may be small jealousies in a Government Department, but every man in the place will stand shoulder to shoulder with his fellow to repel the attacks of non-civilians. And the word "attack" has many meanings. Practically, everything is an attack. If an outsider asks a question, the query is an attack. If an outsider complains, the grievance is an attack. If an outsider begs a favour, the petition is an attack. If you bear this well in mind, you cannot go wrong. Adopt it as your creed, and you may be sure that you will became immediately an ideal head of a Government Department.
Say that you have accepted your appointment, and are prepared to take up at once the duties appertaining to your new position. No doubt during your "attacks" upon the Milestones you will have come across several of the officials of the Public Squander Department. So when you arrive in the hall of your new bureau you will be recognised at once by most of the messengers. You will be conducted with deference to your new quarters. You will find them very comfortable. Any number of easy-chairs. Large writing-desk. Several handsome tables. Rich carpet, rugs to match, and a coal-scuttle with the departmental cypher. On the walls, maps and some armour. The latter, no doubt, has come from the Tower, or Holyrood, or Dublin Castle. Most probably one of your predecessors has given an official dinner in your room, and the armour is the result of the importunity of his Private Secretary.
"I say, Tenterfore," your predecessor has observed, "don't you think these walls are a bit bare? Don't you think you could get them done up a bit?"
"Certainly, Sir," Tenterfore has replied, and the result of his energy has been the trophies you see around you. Tenterfore has applied to the people at the Tower, or Holyrood, or Dublin Castle, and got up quite a collection of quaint old arms. They have been duly received by the Public Squander Department, and retained. It is a rule of the bureau that anything that has been once accepted shall be kept for ever. That is to say, if it can be clearly proved that the things retained can be useful somewhere else. You look round with satisfaction, and then greet with effusion the chief clerk. He has been waiting to receive you. As you do not know the ropes, it is advisable to be civil to every one. Later on, when you have a talented assistant to prompt you, you can allow your cordiality to cool. However, at this moment it is better to be extremely polite to all the world, and (if you know her) his wife. The chief clerk is delighted to exchange expressions of mutual respect and common good-will. He will put in something neat about the Milestones as a concession to your labours in that direction.
"My dear Sir," you will reply with a smile, "don't bother yourself about them. I can keep them quite safe. We have nothing to fear from them."
The face of the chief clerk will beam. He will see that you are one of them. Milestones for the future are to be defended, not attacked. He will accept you as an illustrious bureaucratic recruit. He will see that you are ready to stand shoulder to shoulder in defence of the office. Could anything be better?
Then for about the thirtieth time you will be asked if you have selected a private secretary, and the chief clerk will suggest his own particular nominee. With much cordiality you will receive the proposal, but keep the matter open. You must remember that upon the appointment your future success depends. Moreover, it is a nice little piece of patronage which you may as well retain for yourself.
When you have selected your private secretary it will be time to get into harness, and of this operation I hope to treat on some future occasion.
HOW OPINION IS FORMED.
He. "Have you read that beastly Book The Mauve Peony, by Lady Middlesex?"
She. "Yes. I rather liked it."
He. "So did I."
"No Fees!"—The new seats in the Drury Lane pit "by an ingenious arrangement," says Mr. Clement Scott, in the Daily Telegraph, "'tip up' of their own accord the instant they are vacated." Then, evidently, the system of "fees to attendants" is not abolished at T.R. Drury Lane. In theatres where it is abolished no "tipping up" could possibly be permitted.