Vows for Initiates
SPECTATOR COMPETITION NO. 215 Report by Geoffrey Caston
The mediaeval guilds were in the habit of demanding from initiates subscription to an oath setting out briefly the general principles to which they should dedicate themselves, together with certain more specific and parochial pledges. Competitors were asked to provide an extract from a present-day oath designed for one of the following: diplomat, poet, taxi-driver, baby-sitter, film director, civil servant; editor of a weekly.
Entries were neatly divided between the detractors and the apologists. Many of the latter were a little heavy; I could see them
standing before the elders of their vocation dedicating themselves with a self-righteous tear in their eye. I was looking for a twinkle.
Among the 'straight' entries, C. A. F. Smith impressed me with his sincerity—if he brings his taxi to London I shall warmly recom- mend it to both my rich friends who ride in taxis—and P.M.'s catalogue of baby-
sitting virtues deserves a place over every fireplace. It was encouraging that of all the professions the poets took themselves the most seriously, the civil servartts least.
Most initiates pledged themselves with sly pomposity to virtues which the layman might regard as foibles. There were some neat deflations—Allan M. Laing, who despised the "rattle of rhythm, the mono- tony of metre"; R. Kennard Davis, with his "thus shall verse be free, and the Muse enchained"; H. A. C. Evans, the best of the self-scathing poets, only missed a prize through exceeding the word limit. The civil servants found it hard to escape from the conventional dedication to evasions, circumlocutions and tea (though Thomas Dalby's "unfissionable infinitive" was pleas- antly topical). Most numerous, they tended to be also the most dull of the entries; an exception was Erica Scott, whose pledge to "lead my masters imperceptibly towards the right and the Press up the garden. . . to turn my back on Bloomsbury and fasten my gaze upon the Athenaeum" seemed to characterise bureaucratic ambition with judicious ruthlessness. Also deserving a mention are good all-round efforts from Kenneth S. Kitchin and M. Hallam.
First prize of £2 goes to Peter Gant, whose oath has a resounding authenticity. The remainder should be divided between Lakom, with his nice sense of the financial proprieties of modern diplomacy, and Nimbus, whose `baby-sitter' entry must be omitted through lack of space.
PRIZES (PETER GANT)
will come between me and my lawful destina- tion, nor circumvent the conducting of my fares as I think fit, knowing as I do three different ways from Piccadilly to Waterloo so as to suit the means of variegated clients tip and all, notwithstanding argybargy, policemeq and owners of private motor vehicles as should have been left in their perambulators per. manent; and will firmly maintain complete disregard for those as shouts "Hoy," raise umbrellas in a hostile fashion unmannerlylike, or overlook a natural personal antipathy to stopping before the aforesaid destination, save for half-a-pint; put upon oath that I shall keep my cab's flag flying, whether or not sub-g/o4 as we say, and will never give change that doel not produce a 25 per cent. tip.
(tAxoN) Diplomat With mind and body, heart and soul, I will defend the Protocol, And, in spirit, as in sense, Uphold my rank and precedence. My lords and masters shall approve My each and every step and move, And when I'm given leave to speak VII put my tongue well in my cheek, Be so discreet and double-faced That, if disowned, I'm not disgraced. I'll not indulge in, by and large, Any form of espionage, Unless, of course, the agency Is double-pledged to secrecy.
My privilege I'll not abuse Nor my exempted customs dues; I'll never, never use the bag
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