Civil service -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
'It had now become his duty,' he said, 'to take his position in that
room, that well-known, well-loved room, under circumstances of which he
had little dreamt when he first entered it with awe-struck steps, in
the days of his early youth. But, nevertheless, even then ambition had
warmed him. That ambition had been to devote every energy of his mind,
every muscle of his body, every hour of his life, to the Civil Service
of his country. It was not much, perhaps, that he had been able to do;
he could not boast of those acute powers of mind, of that gigantic grasp
of intellect, of which they saw in those days so wonderful an example in
a high place.' Sir Gregory here gratefully alluded to that statesman who
had given him his present appointment. 'But still he had devoted all his
mind, such as it was, and every hour of his life, to the service; and
now he had his reward. If he might be allowed to give advice to the
gentlemen before him, gentlemen of whose admirable qualifications for
the Civil Service of the country he himself was so well aware, his
advice should be this--That they should look on none of their energies
as applicable to private purposes, regard none of their hours as their
own. They were devoted in a peculiar way to the Civil Service, and they
should feel that such was their lot in life. They should know that their
intellects were a sacred pledge intrusted to them for the good of that
service, and should use them accordingly. This should be their highest
ambition. And what higher ambition,' asked Sir Gregory, 'could they
have? They all, alas! knew that the service had been disgraced in
other quarters by idleness, incompetency, and, he feared he must
say, dishonesty; till incompetency and dishonesty had become, not the
exception, but the rule. It was too notorious that the Civil Service was
filled by the family fools of the aristocracy and middle classes, and
that any family who had no fool to send, sent in lieu thereof some
invalid past hope. Thus the service had become a hospital for incurables
and idiots. It was,' said Sir Gregory, 'for him and them to cure
all that. He would not,' he said, 'at that moment, say anything with
reference to salaries. It was, as they were all aware, a very difficult
subject, and did not seem to be necessarily connected with the few
remarks which the present opportunity had seemed to him to call for.'
He then told them they were all his beloved children; that they were a
credit to the establishment; that he handed them over without a blush to
his excellent colleagues, Sir Warwick Westend and Mr. Jobbles, and that
he wished in his heart that each of them could be successful. And having
so spoken, Sir Gregory went his way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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