Withal, I doubt if he has had the satisfaction out of life that his father got out of making shirts.
Through Rex I became a political worker for the Minister to whom he was adviser. As it will be necessary to speak of several Ministers of the Crown, who must be nameless, I will call this Minister “One.” An election was about to fall upon the country with all the disorganising influences of a great storm. The wind of political excitement was just beginning to blow in fitful gusts, now from one direction, now from another, and the powers of the two great parties were beginning to line up and count heads. Workers of all kinds were wanted—writers, good liars, common touts, organisers, poseurs, talkers, walkers and mockers. For Minister One I checked lists of people, made calls at offices, talked to working men at noon hour, and even made my way into private houses in the evenings, and did many other things as I was bid, and learned all the mysteries of what is known as “the dirty work” of an election. I was well paid; but I did not work for pay alone. I was serving my apprenticeship in the way Rex thought necessary, before I could be made a Civil servant.
During the weeks I spent at this work I had beautiful dreams of a near future, when I would assume the cowl and retire from the world into the seclusion of the Civil Service, where I would enjoy peace and leisure, with time to think, study, and write for magazines, teach music and follow my bent. I had very hazy ideas regarding the Civil Service. I thought, as many think, that it was a collection of highly fortunate and cultivated gentlemen, who enjoyed ridiculous salaries for services of a very light kind; that being a Civil servant gave one a social standing of some importance, next, at least, to that of gentlemen of the black robe and collar buttoned behind. I was to live and discover how exceedingly foolish were these ideas.
The election being over, to the satisfaction of one party and the discomfiture of another, Minister One being re-established in his position of Minister of Ways and Means, where he had been before the election, I called upon him; my movements, of course, being advised by Rex. Calling on a Minister is by no means a simple process. Minister One had several offices in several cities, two of them being in Montreal—one in the post office, the other in the offices of a newspaper. He was never anywhere for a long time, and was always busy and surrounded by watchful bodyguards and lieutenants, who protected him from the protesting, begging and demanding mob. However, I camped upon his trail and finally tracked him to his lair.
Minister One was a little nervous man of wonderful energy, with unbounded faith in himself and his destiny. He was very amusing in some of his aspects, but the comical side of his character was a side he never recognised in himself. He received me as kindly and condescendingly as he could—he being only five foot seven and a Minister of the Crown; and I being six foot and one of his jackals, who knew that his election had not been made with prayers. Compliments being exchanged, I came at once to the point.
“Mr. Minister,” I said, “I would exceedingly like a Government position.”
“What?” exclaimed One, pretending to be surprised. “Government position at your age? In the name of high Heaven, why?” And he took a turn about the room with his head thrown forward on his chest, and his hands clasped behind his back.
“Because,” I replied, “I have had enough; I want peace and a reliable source of income.”
“Peace! ha, ha!” said One laughing. “You want peace while still young and able to fight? What is the use of peace? Give me war.”
“Every one to his taste,” I said; “war for you, peace for me. War I know something about. I have fought a bitter fight, and am tired. War I give you, but peace is a thing I have yet to experience. I would like to taste it, and so I want a Government position.”