Sir Nicholas Monck, who has died aged 78, was a member of that self-effacing elite on whom the government has always depended – a senior civil servant prepared to devote his life to unsung and unsparing work in the public interest. He had all the traditional virtues of the mandarin – he was outstandingly able and deeply cultured. But anyone less like a Sir Humphrey would be difficult to imagine. He never lost his profound lack of self-importance, his innate sweetness of character or his lightness of touch.
He ended his civil service career as permanent secretary (1993-95) of a massive territory, the Employment Department Group. He spent the greater part of it, though, in the Treasury, where one of his colleagues described him as a towering figure. It was often grindingly hard work – long hours at the office and then more long hours at home in the evening. Early in his career he spent three years as senior economist (1966-69) at the Ministry of Agriculture in the newly independent Tanzania, and after his retirement he began a very busy second career travelling the world as an international consultant. He was knighted in 1994.
Born in London, he won himself a privileged education – he was a scholar first at Eton and then at King's College, Cambridge – but he and Elizabeth, whom he married in 1960, sent their own sons to the local comprehensive school. It was probably Nicholas's support for the Labour party, so some of his colleagues believed, that at the apogee of his career kept him out of the very highest office in the Treasury; Margaret Thatcher realised that he most definitely was not "one of us".
At weekends the Moncks would get away to a modest country retreat that they shared with the Plowden family. William Plowden, a lifelong friend, was another notable public servant in the same tradition. My wife and I were members of the household, and life here, with sometimes the six of us and all our 10 children at once, had a casual lightness and humour which I suppose we had learned at Cambridge. But we were also, I think, touched by another great Cambridge tradition, of plain living and high thinking.
Nicholas's style of dress was certainly a demonstration of the first part of the philosophy – more Worzel Gummidge than Sir Humphrey – with a particular leaning towards farm labourers' suits from the local gents' outfitters. There was also a lot of serious talk about politics and administration, a lot of reading and listening to music. Nicholas had studied classics at Cambridge, and he went on reading the great Greek and Latin texts for the rest of his life. He also had a rare knowledge and love of English poetry.
He had a wonderful talent for being interested and amused, with a great shout of laughter that it was always a pleasure to elicit. Some people simply inspire love, and Nicholas was one of them. Any occasion was a special joy if Nicholas was going to be there – even at the end, when he was very frail. We saw him two weeks before he died and he was both entirely clear-eyed about his fate and as engagingly good-humoured as ever. He was still talking about poetry and music – and still hard at work. This time at choosing the poetry and music for his funeral.
He is survived by Elizabeth and their sons, Bosworth, Sam and Nathaniel.