No. 1288: The winners
Jaspistos reports: Competitors were asked for a strait-laced letter, fraught with moral advice, from a son or daughter to a parent, now or in the past.
The picture I had in mind was of an old roue with dyed whiskers in the 1840s being sorted out by a Tractarian son, but you ranged inventively all over history. Elizabeth rebuked Henry VIII, Timerius ticked off Tamburlaine, Laertes lectured Polonius, and John Digby sent a moving plea from a daughter to her ghastlily over- dressed mother at the court of Versailles, dated 1652. Among the moderns, Peter Norman's opening blast was outstanding: 'I note that Mother has recently purchased from a multinational cosmetics outfit a lurid new lipstick which was undoubtedly tested on live rabbits. This places you on exactly the same plane as a concentration camp guard . . Had Mr Norman used a first-class stamp (his letter took six days to get from Brighton to London), he would have won a prize. Beware of false economies!
With that grave moral advice, I award £10 to each of the excellent winners below.
Oriel College, Holy Cross Day, 1843 Dear Mother, I have just returned from a week with Newman's community at Littlemore, and feel inspired to write frankly on the importance of self-examination.
I've never questioned Father about his sojourn in Italy with Byron, nor you about your life in Prinny's set at Brighton, but I'm certain you both need the grace of auricular confession. Possible difficulties with Cousin William at the Rectory require me to seek your support for my idea that an Oxford friend should come as curate/confessor, charged with restoring the ruined hermitage for daily devotion.
I shall write soon with a suggested Rule of Life after consulting Pusey, whom I've invited home for St Lucy (V. & M.). Don't ask him to play whist! Father might wish to restrict hunting ex- penditure pro tempore, but please avoid taking the discipline without consulting Your affectionate son.
(T. A. H. Tyler) Dear Dad, Fiona's parents have okayed it for her to come home with me to meet you, first weekend of vac., so just a few cautionary words, If you must smoke while she's staying with us, please buy yourself a few packs of ready-mades and leave the Old Holborn, the papers and the Acapulco Gold in the sideboard until Monday. Likewise your Zappa and Beefheart albums. If your 'lodger' is still with you, at least make sure she's up, dressed and out of the way by lunch- time — I've explained Mum's absence as 'stay- ing with a sick relative'. (True, really; he is after all your brother.) Until Saturday, Your loving son, Martin. P.S. I've told Fiona you're in journalism — for God's sake don't get squiffy at dinner and haul out your wad of photostats of that stuff from Forum and Gay News.
(Roy Davenport) Dear Father, I have no wish to accuse you of pro- fligacy, but feel it incumbent upon me to return the cheque, sent to me to 'make up', as you put it, that part of the cost of maintaining me in higher education not provided by government grant. Quite apart from the deliberate incitement such a sum offers to one so young as myself to develop an addiction to alcohol, or to any other stimulant, it is frankly dishonourable to your employers that you should pass on what they — in good faith — entrusted to you. Philanthropy is worthy indeed, but there are many charitable societies, as indeed there is my mother, whose forwarding address you have apparently mislaid and which I enclose, to whom monies might be diverted if necessary. The 'birds and bees' to which you alluded in our valedictory chat are, of course, free and natural. Please to remember this on your next city visit.
(Nell L. Wregible) 1 October, 1966 Dear Parent, My thanks to you and Mater for looking after me during the College vac. This makes it difficult for me to advise you not to fur- ther your image as a 'ton-up Vicar', for it merely serves to bring both yourself and the Church into disrepute. However laudable your aims to make money for the Church I would be failing in filial duty if I did not point out that the Church fete was morally indefensible. One does not have to be an 'arbiter elegantiarum' to deplore the strip show, the ladies' choir's singing of rugby songs, or your participation in 'Pelt the Parson'. I heard an onlooker say he was surprised you weren't stoned, but, to use a vulgarism and con- sidering the abundance of Communion wine, perhaps you were. Believe me, Sir, 1 do wish to conform with the fifth Commandment; you make it difficult.
Deus Vobiscum, David.
(P. W. R. Foot)
Dearest Papa, Mamma says I must never men- tion your name, even though you are a Lord, when playing with other girls. But I may write to you, she will look over the letter before it is despatched to see my moral sentiments are elevated. Yet I am sure I think naturally as I ought and it is a vast shame you do not give up versifying in Italy and late hours, low Cockney company and brandy — other men's wives too, even tho' they are no better than hussies as Mamma says; and when I enquire 'Pray, what are hussies?' she looks all confusion.
I have reached calculus and am accounted a prodigious blue for my loving mathematics. You would do well to regulate your own life as I do numbers; they are truer than countesses and fornarinas (whatever they are: I hear them mentioned).
Ever your loving, Augusta Ada. (Charles Mosley)
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