to transact any business and be left in peace to read a good murder story undisturbed?
There are various, centuries-old, true British traditions to secure this aim:
1. All orders and directories to the public are worded in such a way that they should have no meaning whatever.
2. All official letters are written in such a language that the oracles of Delphi sound as examples of clear, outspoken, straightforward statements compared with them.
3. Civil Servants never make decisions, they only promise to “consider,” “consider favourably” — or — and this is the utmost — “reconsider” certain questions.
4. In principle the British Civil Servant stands always at the disposal of the public. In practice he is either in “conference” or out for lunch, or in but having his tea, or just out. Some develop an admirable technique of going out to tea before coming back from lunch.
The British Civil Servant, unlike the rough bully we often find on the Continent, is the Obedient Civil Servant of the public. Before the war, an alien in this country was ordered to leave. He asked for extension of his staying permit, but was refused. He stayed on all the same, and after a while he received the following letter (I quote from memory):
“Dear sir,
The Under-Secretary of State presents his compliments and regrets that he is unable to reconsider your case, and begs to inform you that unless you kindly leave this country within 24 hours you will be forcibly expelled.
On the Continent rich and influential people, or those who have friends, cousins, brothers-in-law, tenants, business associates, etc., in an office may have their requests fulfilled. In England there is not such corruption and your obedient servant just will not do a thing whoever you may be. And this is the real beauty of a democracy.
Journalism, or the Freedom of the Press
There was some trouble with the Burburuk tribe in the Pacific Island, Charamak. A party of ten English and two American soldiers, under the command of Capt. R. L. A. T. W. Tilbury, raided the island and took 217 revolutionary, native troublemakers prisoner and wrecked two large oil-dumps. The party remained ashore an hour-and-a-half and returned to their base camp without loss to themselves.
How to report this event? It depends on which newspaper you work for.
... It would be exceedingly perilous to overestimate the significance of the raid, but it can be fairly proclaimed that it would be even more dangerous to underestimate it. The success of the raid clearly proves that the native defences are not invulnerable; it would be fallacious and deceptive, however, to conclude that the defences are vulnerable. The number of revolutionaries captured cannot be safely stated, but it seems likely that the number is well over 216 but well under 218.
You may become an M.P. (Nothing is impossible — this would not be even unprecedented.) You may hear then the follow statement by a member of His Majesty's Government:
Concerning the two wrecked oil-dumps I can give this information to the House. In the first half of this year the amount of native oil destroyed by the Army, Navy and the R.A.F. — excluding however, the Fleet Air Arm — is one half as much as three times the amount destroyed during the corresponding months of the previous year, seven and a half times as much as the two-fifths destroyed two years ago and three quarters as much again as twelve times one-sixth destroyed three years ago. (Loud cheers from the Government benches.)
You jump to your feet and ask this question:
You: Is the Right Hon. Gentleman aware that people in this country are puzzled and worried by the fact that Charamak was raided and not Ragamak?
The Right Hon Member: I have nothing to add to my statement given on the 2nd August, 1892.
The most interesting feature of the Charamak raid is the fact that Reggie Tilbury is the fifth son of the Earl of Bayswater. He was an Oxford Blue, a first-class cricketer and quite good at polo. When I talked to his wife (Lady Clarisse, the daughter of Lord Elasson) at Claridges to-day, she wore a black suit and a tiny block hat with a yellow feather in it. She said: “Reggie was always very much interested in warfare.” Later she remarked: “It was clever of him, wasn't it?”
You may write a letter to the editor of “The Times”:
“Sir, — In connection with the Charamak raid I should like to mention as a matter of considerable interest that it was in that little Pacific Island that the distinguished English poet, John Flat, wrote his famous poem ‘The Cod’ in 1693.
Yours, etc. ...”
You may read this answer on the following day:
“Sir, — I am very grateful to Mr. ... for calling attention to John Flat's poem ‘The Cod.’ May I be allowed to use this opportunity, however, to correct a widespread and in my view very unfortunate error which the great masses of the British people seem to share with your correspondent. ‘The Cod,’ although John Flat started writing it in 1693, was only finished in the early days of 1694.
Yours, etc. ...”
If you are the London correspondent of the American paper
