Bureaucracy | Page 9

time of which we write the pension list had just been issued,
and on it Rabourdin saw the name of an underling in office rated for a
larger sum than the old colonels, maimed and wounded for their
country. In that fact lies the whole history of bureaucracy.
Another evil, brought about by modern customs, which Rabourdin
counted among the causes of this secret demoralization, was the fact
that there is no real subordination in the administration in Paris;
complete equality reigns between the head of an important division and
the humblest copying-clerk; one is as powerful as the other in an arena
outside of which each lords it in his own way. Education, equally
distributed through the masses, brings the son of a porter into a
government office to decide the fate of some man of merit or some
landed proprietor whose door-bell his father may have answered. The
last comer is therefore on equal terms with the oldest veteran in the
service. A wealthy supernumerary splashes his superior as he drives his
tilbury to Longchamps and points with his whip to the poor father of a
family, remarking to the pretty woman at his side, "That's my chief."
The Liberals call this state of things Progress; Rabourdin thought it
Anarchy at the heart of power. He saw how it resulted in restless

intrigues, like those of a harem between eunuchs and women and
imbecile sultans, or the petty troubles of nuns full of underhand
vexations, or college tyrannies, or diplomatic manoeuvrings fit to
terrify an ambassador, all put in motion to obtain a fee or an increase in
salary; it was like the hopping of fleas harnessed to pasteboard cars, the
spitefulness of slaves, often visited on the minister himself. With all
this were the really useful men, the workers, victims of such parasites;
men sincerely devoted to their country, who stood vigorously out from
the background of the other incapables, yet who were often forced to
succumb through unworthy trickery.
All the higher offices were gained through parliamentary influence,
royalty had nothing to do now with them, and the subordinate clerks
became, after a time, merely the running-gear of the machine; the most
important considerations with them being to keep the wheels well
greased. This fatal conviction entering some of the best minds
smothered many statements conscientiously written on the secret evils
of the national government; lowered the courage of many hearts, and
corrupted sterling honesty, weary of injustice and won to indifference
by deteriorating annoyances. A clerk in the employ of the Rothchilds
corresponds with all England; another, in a government office, may
communicate with all the prefects; but where the one learns the way to
make his fortune, the other loses time and health and life to no avail.
An undermining evil lies here. Certainly a nation does not seem
threatened with immediate dissolution because an able clerk is sent
away and a middling sort of man replaces him. Unfortunately for the
welfare of nations individual men never seem essential to their
existence. But in the long run when the belittling process is fully
carried out nations will disappear. Every one who seeks instruction on
this point can look at Venice, Madrid, Amsterdam, Stockholm, Rome;
all places which were formerly resplendent with mighty powers and are
now destroyed by the infiltrating littleness which gradually attained the
highest eminence. When the day of struggle came, all was found rotten,
the State succumbed to a weak attack. To worship the fool who
succeeds, and not to grieve over the fall of an able man is the result of
our melancholy education, of our manners and customs which drive
men of intellect into disgust, and genius to despair.

What a difficult undertaking is the rehabilitation of the Civil Service
while the liberal cries aloud in his newspapers that the salaries of clerks
are a standing theft, calls the items of the budget a cluster of leeches,
and every year demands why the nation should be saddled with a
thousand millions of taxes. In Monsieur Rabourdin's eyes the clerk in
relation to the budget was very much what the gambler is to the game;
that which he wins he puts back again. All remuneration implies
something furnished. To pay a man a thousand francs a year and
demand his whole time was surely to organize theft and poverty. A
galley-slave costs nearly as much, and does less. But to expect a man
whom the State remunerated with twelve thousand francs a year to
devote himself to his country was a profitable contract for both sides,
fit to allure all capacities.
These reflections had led Rabourdin to desire the recasting of the
clerical official staff. To employ fewer man, to double or treble salaries,
and do away with pensions, to choose only