M. le Baron.  “OH, I ZANK YOU, YES!  I FIND ’EEM ON MY CHEST OF TROWSERS!”]

* * * * *

“AFTER YOU!”

["I am sure I may say, on behalf of all those whose names are mentioned (for the Leadership of the House of Commons), that we do not understand what selfishness is in the Public Service.  Everyone of us would prefer that someone else should hold that high and honourable office.”—­Sir M. Hicks-Beach at Stockton-on-Tees.]

Eminent official Altruist loquitur:—­

  Oh, is there such a vice as unholy love of self. 
    In the Public Service, too?  ’Tis a thing I can’t believe. 
  If I thought we could be moved by the love of power or pelf,
    To compete for premier office I should very greatly grieve. 
  But oh no, oh deary no!  I am sure it can’t be so. 
    We don’t even “understand it,” so of course it isn’t true. 
  When we’re called upon to go, each will say, all louting low,
      “After you!”

  We are not “competitive,” like those naughty goddesses
    Who poor Paris fluttered so upon Ida’s pine-clad peak. 
  Of his “choice”—­through selfishness—­that young shepherd made a mess,
    But our Shepherd, SALISBURY, will not be so wildly weak;
  And our claims we shall not urge to compulsion’s very verge,
    On the contrary each one thinks that “another” best will do. 
  “No, loved comrade” (each will say) “let me make my ‘splendid splurge’
      “After you!”

  Look at GOSCHEN!  Can’t you see he regards with perfect glee
    The prospect of promotion of his faithful friend BALFOUR.
  He doesn’t want to lead.  Ah no, indeed, indeed! 
    Do you think that off friend ARTHUR JOACHIM can wish to score? 
  Upon the Treasury Bench did he ever try to trench
    On the province of the Leader for the time, no matter who? 
  He would cry, “Dear ARTHUR, No! from priority I blench,—­
      “After you!”

  Then bland BALFOUR in his turn such crude selfishness would spurn
    As the wish to prove himself popular more than soft J.G.,
  With a most becoming blush his pale cheek, I’m sure, would burn,
    If his uncle should cry, “Come, nephew dear, and second me!”
  He would hint at nepotism, and the chance of secret schism. 
    “Let the mild ex-Liberal lead, I will be his henchman true!”
  He would cry, with selfless joy on his brow like a pure chrism,
      “After you!”

  And as for simple Me!  Oh, it’s utter fiddle-de-dee
    To suppose that I possess, or desire, the least look in. 
  No, selfishness, my friends, we unitedly agree
    In Party life is just the unpardonable sin,
  Which “we do not understand,” like that other little game
    That AH-SIN, reluctant, played, with some small success ’tis true. 
  But we’ve no sleeve-hidden card as we cry, with modest shame,
      “After you!”