THE PRIVATE SECRETARY.
HE place of a private secretary," said Miss Adela Ferrara, "is by his chief's wife. We all know that." In seriousness, it is difficult to say what is, still more, what is not, a private secretary's place. His function is to be " there " unobtrusively, wherever " there " may be. At the best, he should be omniscient and omnipresent. At the worst, pervasive and persuasive. In any event, the soul of discre- tion.
Most Members of Parliament who can afford the luxury possess a private secretary, and not a few private secretaries possess Members of Parliament, —much as mediaeval devils possessed otherwise inert and harmless personalities. The imagination halts before a strike of this inconspicuous band, nor is it kind to forecast the number of constituencies which would subsequently be seeking new Members. Nobody but one or two (generally but one) knows how late his secretary sat last night-preserving Mr. Robinson's reputation for pun- gent impromptus. There is more than one ease in each House of epigrammatic brilliance and argumentative dis- tinction of which the initiated shrewdly suspect, though the voice is the voice of Jacob, that the hands are the hands of Esau. ' "Late to bed, and early to rise."--The first qualification is the practice of early rising. " Early " is, of course, relative. But in the normal case the chief wants to begin his business by eleven, and there is a good hour's work for the secretary first. In some cases he lives in his chiefs house, and his path is then comparatively smooth. More usually he has chambers it King Street or Bury Street, in Sloane Street or in the Temple. And then he must emerge from a troubled doze in the chill grey of the dawn ; breakfast, such as it is, must be over and Brook Street reached by ten, or perhaps a little after ten. "Let's call it tennish."
f Nowadays newspapers are the first order, and the private secretary, as a student of comparatively contemporary history, invariably starts on the Times. Hence he gleans the official view of last night's. speech, the course of business, and the Government's interpretation of the Government's acts. Blue pencil in hand, he passes to the Mail to find out what is happening,—hoW Russia intends to discover -Mr. Brodrick's army corps when we have lost the command of the sea. In the hope of something to give pain,. he collects abusive topithets from the Daily News's comments on his chief's
theology ; and from the Morning Post collates the coming parties of his chief's friends. And the local orgtm of the Opposition generally contains some utterance of the waiting candidate which is worth preserving for his future discomfiture.
Then to the letters. First comes forty-one announcements by disinterested persons of their willingness to allot shares in practical certainties in exchange for cash. The second layet in the waste-paper basket will consist of instructions as to the proper vote in the divisions for the next week, contributed, these, by various associations for the propagation of pro- lixity. After these the subscriptions. Ten are from the con- stituency, and the private secretary draws cheques for three Wesleyan Church bazaars, two ward associations, and one cricket club. One more, as doubtful, he leaves for his chief's consideration, and the rest go by for the subsequent exposi- tion of the regret which "Mr. M.P. desires me to express, that owing to the very many calls upon him, he is unable at present—" The three constituents who cannot continue their support unless a vote for the Government is recorded in this most important question, and the three who must withdraw if it is, may be disregarded as mutually counteracting. As, however, Mr. Jones is no less a personage than a Borough Councillor and a Ward Chairman, it is perhaps best to tell him that the whole subject has Mr. M.P.'s serious consideration, and that every weight shall be given to Mr. Jones's views, as expressed in his most interesting letter. It is strange to reflect how much comfort this will bring to Mr. Jones. Perhaps to him it will seem stranger still that any one should so believe. Several people will be telling or retelling claims against the War Office. Some pensioners send copies of their last few years' correspondence with the Admiralty on the cherished "M. a day," and these will want attention. The great trouble of a private secretary's life is that almost everything wants attention, and quite every one.
The business letters, the reports from the constituency agents, the invitations, and the really important matters —as Hunt subscriptions and horse sales—must next be noted, and then with his chief the secretary puts in so much work on speeches, letters, and general discussion as the day's mood demands. The number of occasions on which he can do his chief's work is the gauge of his utility, and the effectiveness of the performance of his capacity. At a moment's notice he must meet a local celebrity, congratu- late him on his elevation to the Commission of the Peace, resolve his doubts on public questions, and feed his vanity in private concerns. Should his chief suddenly discover his mission in the exposure of high policy in the Persian Gulf, or an economic commination of the finances of a Welsh munici- pality, the secretary must put his hand, not only on copious printed material, but on himself as an unsuspected authority on the particular question.
Undoubtedly he must meet unblushing lateness with cheerful punctuality. His willingness to arrange the places for a dinner party should be equalled only by the accuracy of his information on questions of social precedence. It is not unknown that his chiefs wife should desire from him an exposition of the latest in cotillions, and if he cannot greet the obvious with enthusiastic attention he had better go back to the Ban With all this it is essential that he be entirely loyal, and perhaps only a private secretary knows the difficulty of this requirement. - With cheerful untruth he must deny his own handiwork, with unfailing honesty repress his own unimpor- tant ambitions and forego his own moods, pleasure, and enjoyments. "Willingly give thyself up to Clotho" is his motto. Royally must he spend himself, and royally let himself be spent.
These posts are very much sought after, and the fact is a testimony to the ignorance or the sportsmanship of English- men. The qualities required for complete success are beyond human attainment. Onerous duties precede insignificant rewards. But hardly elsewhere is realised the complete altruism of service, and to the private secretary is granted in full glory the invisible crown of anonymous achievement, of unrewarded work well done.
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