Down a Peg
By STRIX
TN my own interests, I suppose, I ought to keep
the episode as dark as possible. There would be nothing furtive in doing so, it is not a question of hushing something up; for it is scarcely con- ceivable that anybody other than myself noticed that it happened. And 1 will do myself no good, rather the reverse, by calling attention to it.
COst what it may, nevertheless, I shall tell all. The penalty inflicted on me was, I am pretty sure, an unusual one; trivial in itself, it has— or it could have for a less lackadaisical charac- ter—profoundly disturbing implications. More- over, thoUgh I am sure it was not undeserved, I find it impossible to decide just how I deserved it. The blow fell—it was really more like a light, meaningful tap on the shoulder than a blow—on my birthday.
I cannot remember when The Times, follow- ing a' lead given' by the Daily Telegraph, took to publishing a short list headed 'Birthdays Today,' but for reasons which must have seemed to them, if to no one else, sufficient they always included my name on this list on the appropriate date. This year they dropped me.
I doubt if my worst enemies or my least charitable friends would rate a lust. for publicity among my graver failings. I would, of course, very much like to figure in the newspapers as the central figure of an Act of heroism or as the author of some smashing book; but I can claim no credit for either the fact or the date of my birth, and very little for 'the large number of years that I have survived it. From the annual publication of these particulars I have never derived any benefit; and I think I can honestly say that I have always regarded my appearance in 'Birthdays Today' with indifference.
My disappearance from it, however, is a different matter. One knew—had known for a long time—that one was going steadily down- hill, losing one's grip, getting dimmer and dimmer. One realised that one's position in the charts had always rested on the flimsiest founda- tions. One recognised the necessity for culling the Top. Birthdayfolk, as herds of cows and flocks of sheep .are culled to get rid of animals which have outlived their usefulness. One faced the situation, in fact, with a steady eye and a stiff upper lip. All the same— All the same, I defy anyone to feel altogether easy in his mind after relegation. An unfavour- able judgment has been passed on him, he has been demoted, he has suffered the social equiva- lent of having his epaulettes torn off. However objectively he looks at the matter, he sees that during the past year not only must he have done pretty badly, but he must also have done worse than the ten men who share his birthday and who are still sitting pretty on the Court Page. They range from a retired rear-admiral with twenty-five years more to his credit to a young
peer with twenty years less. He begins to brood about these characters, with none of whom he is acquainted.
That all have led blameless lives during the past twelve months he has no reason to doubt; but so, as far as he can remember, has he. Some, no doubt, have added fresh lustre to their careers, but surely not all—surely two (say) or three have just jogged along in much the same clueless, obscure way as he. One, perhaps, is a newcomer for whom a place had to be found. What made them so certain in Printing House Square that it had to be his place?
And when was the fell decision taken? Per- haps he had been, so to speak, on probation for a year or more. 'We can't go on giving him another chance indefinitely.' I know, sir. But why not leave him there this year? After all, he hasn't done anything actually disgraceful.' Very well. But if he doesn't shown signs of improve- ment he goes out in 1964.' Was it like that? Or did an august blue pencil strike at the last moment? He will never know.
The disapproval, however indirectly expressed, of The Times is a heavy burden to bear, but I dare say one will learn to live with it. Men, after all, have acquitted themselves with credit after being reduced to the ranks by their superiors, and
I don't feel any obligation to resign from my clubs and go and live abroad, or anything like that. Beides, it may have been a gremlin rather than a Court of Chivalry that was responsible for my relegation; I noticed that in an adjacent column of the very next issue Sir William Haley published the announcement of a young lady's engagement to somebody else's godmother.
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