One of the sterling qualities Bertie Wooster possesses is that of breaking any bad news gently to those who are apt to shiver from the base of their toes to the top of their heads upon receiving it. There is a great deal of finesse to his approach. Seldom do we find him rushing abruptly into a conversation which involves the party of the other part finding itself at the receiving end.
In ‘The Code of the Woosters’, we find that he uses an ultra-soft approach while trying to convey a disturbing news. This is true not only for a pal like Gussie Fink-Nottle but also for a quirky character like Pop Bassett.
Asking for Pop Bassett’s Niece’s Hand in Marriage
Prodded by the inimitable Jeeves, Stiffy Byng manages to persuade Bertie to break it to Pop Bassett that he proposes to get married to her. Since this declaration is likely to leave her uncle all-of-a-twitter, the plan is for Stiffy to walk in and declare her love instead for Stinker Pinker. Pop Bassett is then likely to experience overwhelming relief, leading him to view Stiffy’s union with Stinker with a more kindly eye.
Even though a Justice of the Peace who has already stripped Bertie of five quid for having endeavored to steal a policeman’s helmet is viewed as a formidable foe, he does not wish to break the artificial news of his betrothal to Stiffy in an abrupt manner. A few preliminary pour-parlers are very much in order before getting down to the nub.
The conversation between Bertie and Pop Bassett first touches upon the treatment to be meted out to the culprit who has recently pinched Constable Oates’ helmet. Bertie then steers it around to the love life of newts, starfish, under-sea worms and seaweed.
Eventually, an exasperated Pop Bassett is forced to make a confession thus:
“I am afraid, Mr. Wooster, that you will think me dense, but I have not the remotest notion of what you are talking about.”
This paves the way for Bertie to overcome his diffidence and ask for Stiffy’s hand. Here is a juicy description of how Pop Bassett hits the ceiling.
There was no question as to its being value for money. On the cue ‘niece’s hand’, he had come out of his chair like a rocketing pheasant. He now sank back, fanning himself with the pen. He seemed to have aged quite a lot.
When summoned, Stiffy gives an extremely convincing performance. She stares at Pop Bassett. She stares at Bertie. She clapses her hands and perhaps even manages to blush. She then proceeds to declare her plans to marry Harold Pinker instead, making hope dawn once again in her uncle’s bosom. Understandably, he needs little persuasion to accord his approval for the two to get united in matrimony.
Avoiding the Surgeon’s Knife with Gussie
Earlier in the narrative, we find Bertie treating Gussie with a similar kid-glove treatment. Gussie has made some juicy comments about Sir Watkyn Bassett and Roderick Spode in a notebook, which he has managed to let it fall in the hands of Stiffy Byng. A scheme to make her part with the same while being charmed by Bertie has flopped miserably.
The onus of passing on this dreadful news to Gussie obviously falls on Bertie, who decides to avoid the surgeon’s knife. He shrinks from the mournful task of administering a very substantial sock on the jaw to an old friend.
While Jeeves is ordered to bring in a bottle of brandy, Gussie is first made to sit comfortably in an armchair. A desultory conversation about the weather and the crops follows. Further prattling on part of Bertie leads to a dialogue of this nature:
“Bertie, I believe you’re pie-eyed.” “Not at all.” “Then what are you babbling like this for?” ….”You don’t mean she hasn’t got it?” “That is precisely the nub or crux. She has, and she is going to give it to Pop Bassett.”
I had expected him to take it fairly substantially, and he did. His eyes, like stars, started from their spheres and he leaped from the chair, spilling the contents of the glass and causing the room to niff like the saloon bar of a pub on a Saturday night.
A pat on Gussie’s shoulder starts calming him down. A reference to Archimedes who was apparently killed by a soldier and passed out smiling then follows. Eventually, Reason returns to its throne and a meaningful dialogue takes place between the two.
These are but two specimens of the extent to which Bertie Wooster would go to break some bad news gently to those in his circles.
When the milk of human kindness is sloshing about within us, we try to be gentle while conveying a piece of negative news, whether to a friend or to a foe. This is an invaluable social skill which many of us can imbibe from Bertie Wooster.
Aunt Dahlia and Uncle Tom cordially invite you to join them for a grand celebration on the occasion of the 133rd Birth Anniversary of Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse.
Guest of Honor: The Empress of Blandings
Special Invitees: Lord Emsworth, Uncle Fred, Ukridge, Mr Mulliner, Mike and Psmith
Le Programme
Madeline Bassett: A talk on Astronomy and Love Signs Gussie Fink-Nottle: Presentation – Effect of the Moon’s phases on the Love Life of Newts Stephanie Byng: Chants ‘Hey Nonny Nonny’ to the accompaniment of a piano Bertie Wooster: Shares the Challenges in abiding by The Code of the Woosters Sally: Demolishes some Modern Feminism myths Roderick Spode: Talks on Design and Marketing Lessons from ‘Eulalie’
Le Diner
Caviar Frais Cantaloup Consommé aux Pommes d’Amour Sylphides a la crème d’Ecrevisses Mignonette de poulet petit Duc Points d’asperges a la Mistinguette Supreme de fois gras au champagne Neige aux Perles des Alpes Timbale de ris de veau Toulousaine Salade d’endive et de celeri Le Plum Pudding Nomais de la Mediterranee au Fenouil Selle d’Agneau aux laitues a la Grecque L’Etoile au Berger Benedictins Blancs Bombe Nero Friandises Diablotins Fruits
Venue: Brinkley Court
Date: October 15, 2014
Starting: 1630 hrs GMT
Code of Conduct:
1. Enquiries regarding Anatole’s recipes shall be frowned upon.
2. Pets are better left home. Throughout the proceedings, Bartholomew would be restrained, but with love and affection.
3. Those exceeding the time limit of 10 minutes for their speeches or performance shall be henceforth banned from visiting Brinkley Court.
4. Casual remarks regarding taxation blues of Uncle Tom shall be wholly unwelcome.
5. Positive comments regarding ‘Milady’s Boudoir’ shall be gratefully acknowledged.
‘P. G. Wodehouse was born on 15 October 1881, at 1 Vale Place, Epsom Road Guildford in Guildford’ begins Frances Donaldson in her 1982 Authorized Biography, summing the matter up rather neatly. The house in Surrey was not the Wodehouse’s home; the family lived in Hong Kong, where P.G.’s father Henry Wodehouse was a magistrate in the Colonial Civil Service. His mother Eleanor was visiting England, staying with her sister in the neighbouring village of Bramley. Eleanor was visiting friends in Epsom Road when out popped the infant Plum (see*). Nonetheless, the house is remembered with a blue plaque over the door. You can read about my visit there in ‘The Wodehouse Trail: Birth’.
To commemorate P.G. Wodehouse’s birthday, tomorrow I will be picking up the trail with a visit to his first home, and I look forward to sharing that adventure…
The world is inhabited by two kinds of people – those who have come to depend upon a tissue restorative of some kind and others who chug along their lives in a perfectly sober state of mind. However, a vast majority keeps shifting its loyalties between the two kinds, keeping an age-old question alive and ticking – to drink or not to drink!
Here is a tipsy post from the inimitable Honoria which you might relish.
Hic, hic, hurray!
‘There are moments when one needs a drink. Are there moments, indeed, when one doesn’t?’
So says Mervyn Potter, the Hollywood heart-throb, who leads poor Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps astray in Barmy in Wonderland (1952). But before you start quoting these sentiments as the views of the author himself, have look at what happens to the frequently pie-eyed Mervyn.
In Chapter One, he gets blotto, burns down a hotel bungalow, and induces Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps (a hotel employee) to slip a frog into his employer’s bedroom. In Chapter Five, Mervyn is already soaked when Barmy arrives at his house (for a dinner he never gets).
It was plain to him that the other, fatigued no doubt after a long day’s rehearsal, had yielded to the dictates of his lower self and for some considerable time must have been mopping up the stuff like a vacuum cleaner. If not actually ossified, he was…
Every dog has his day. Well, on the occasion of Dogs’ Day, it is time to pay a tribute to some characters of the canine kind who regale us with their antics in Plumsville.
Their roles are not confined to the traditional kind which involve hunting, herding or pulling loads. They are never a part of a paw patrol handled by a rozzer. Instead, they have a healthy contempt for those in the uniform. They may not be indefatigable detectives out to assist a Sherlock Holmes in sniffing out crucial leads in a mysterious murder case, but they shape the love affairs of quite a few young men who wear their hearts on their sleeves.
In Plumsville, they enjoy motherly affections of the delicately nurtured. Their misdemeanors are overlooked. Their acts of omission are energetically defended, annoying the officers of the law. If taken into custody, prompt steps are taken through the proper channels to get them extracted. They display unbounded joy and affection to the owners of trousers which happen to be liberally sprinkled with aniseed.
Here are some examples of characters of the canine kind we come across while navigating the humorously sun-lit lands of Plumsville.
Sam Goldwyn
We meet Sam Goldwyn in ‘The Mating Season’. Owned by Corky, he is a shaggy dog of mixed parentage. He is no beauty-prize winner and conceives a burning passion for the company of Bertie Wooster. He is also adept at biting those who exude authority. At Deverille Hall, Uncle Charlie becomes his first victim. Police Constable Dobbs happens to be the next one. He takes Sam into custody. Corky charms Gussie Fink-Nottle into extracting Sam Goldwyn. The reunion is beautifully described as follows:
“The baying and the patter of the feet grew louder and suddenly out of the darkness Sam Goldwyn clocked in, coming along at a high rate of speed and showing plainly in his manner how keenly he appreciated the termination of the sedentary life he had been leading these last days. He looked good for about another fifty miles at the same pace, but the sight of us gave him pause. He stopped, looked and listened. Then, as our familiar odour reached his nostrils, he threw his whole soul into a cry of ecstasy. He bounded at Jeeves as if contemplating licking his face, but was checked by the latter’s quiet dignity. Jeeves views the animal kingdom with a benevolent eye and is the first to pat its head and offer it a slice of whatever is going, but he does not permit it to lick his face.”
McIntosh
McIntosh is an Aberdeen terrier of weak intellect. We meet him in one of the stories appearing in ‘Very Good, Jeeves’. He belongs to Aunt Agatha who has left him in Bertie’s charge while she goes off to Aix-les-Bains to take the cure. Bobbie Wickham gives McIntosh off to the kid Blumenfeld who has developed a liking for it.
Jeeves comes up with a rescue plan, persuading Bertie to sprinkle his trousers with aniseed which is extensively used in the dog-stealing industry. Bertie visits the hotel suite where McIntosh is holed up. As Bobbie Wickham leaves the suite, McIntosh bounds out, sniffing passionately, drinking Bertie in with every evidence of enjoyment. Bertie returns to his abode with McIntosh in tow. A successful mission thus gets accomplished, saving Bertie from incurring the wrath of Aunt Agatha.
To ensure that Bobbie Wickham’s relations with senior Blumenfeld do not get jeopardized, Jeeves buys another look-alike Aberdeen from a shop in Bond Street and hands it over to him.
Poppet
‘Jeeves in the Offing’ introduces us to the dachshund Poppet who charges at people with the apparent intention of seeing the color of their insides. Closer to destination, though, he merely rises like a rocket and licks people on the chin.
The scene under reference gets played out by the side of a lake where the Rev. Aubrey Upjohn, his step-daughter Phyllis, Bobbie Wickham, Wilbert Cream, Kipper and Bertie Wooster have gathered. As per plans, Bertie is to shove Upjohn into the water, followed by Kipper diving in and saving him. This, it is hoped, would improve the chances of Kipper persuading Upjohn to withdraw the libel case he is planning in connection with a derogatory review Kipper has written of an article of his.
As luck would have it, Poppet charges abruptly at Augustus, an easy-going cat which has curled up into a ball and resumed his afternoon siesta. Poppet’s plunge – with his tail straight up at right angles to the parent body, ears turned inside out, barking merrily – jolts Augustus no end. In the ensuing scuffle, Poppet lands up in the lake, accompanied by Bertie. Wilbert dives in, seizes the hound by the scruff of the neck, and tows Poppet at a brisk pace to the shore. Kipper’s mission fails.
Poppet could as well have got ashore perfectly well under his own steam, but Phyllis believes Wilbert Cream rescued her dachshund from a watery grave. As a result, she announces her engagement to Wilbert Cream.
Buster
A bull terrier kind dog by the name of Buster comes along in ‘The Girl in Blue’. He is a pet of Marlene Hibbs and ends up biting Constable Simms whose bicycle is used by Chippendale to impart driving lessons to Marlene.
When she points out that every dog is allowed a first bite by law, Simms says that if this were to happen again, he would prosecute it with the utmost severity. Chippendale finds her in tears near the village pump and has to stand her a strawberry ice cream before he can bring the roses back to her cheeks.
By way of a protest against his high-handedness, Chippendale eventually gets Simms pushed into a river, with the latter’s body as well as ego getting soaked to the gills.
Bartholomew
In ‘The Code of the Woosters’, we come across Bartholomew, a pet of Stiffy’s. An Aberdeen terrier, he is to be watched closely if he gets near anyone’s ankles, “for he biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder”.
In the scene under reference, we find him all whiskers and eyebrows, silently and earnestly following Constable Oates who is quietly enjoying a bicycle ride with his hands off the handle. A mere connect with the ankle bone and the officer of the law falls into a ditch.
This is how the scene unfolds:
“One moment he was with us, all merry and bright; the next he was in the ditch, a sort of ‘macedoine’ of arms and legs and wheels, with the terrier standing on the edge, looking down at him with that rather offensive expression of virtuous smugness which I have often noticed on the faces of Aberdeen terriers in their clashes with humanity.”
Stiffy, true to form, defends Bartholomew. By way of revenge, she starts making plans to get Oates’ helmet pinched.
Bartholomew also puts in an appearance in ‘Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves’. He drives Bertie and Pop Bassett to the top of a large chest of drawers. Bertie finds himself gazing into the eyes of the animal, which looks at him with a sinister intentness characteristic of the breed. Bartholomew also bares his teeth which happen to be in excellent shape, thereby reminding Bertie of his tendency to bite first and ask questions afterwards.
Since Scotties have short legs, a series of energetic springs do not yield any constructive result. Poor Bartholomew has to remain content merely with dirty looks and sharp, passionate barks. Eventually, Stiffy walks in and removes him from the scene, providing much-needed succor to Bertie and Pop Bassett.
Of Dog Fights and Toto
In ‘The Adventures of Sally’, a poodle of military aspect wanders up to Sally at a French seaside resort. Discovering that Sally is in possession of a box of sweets, the poodle decides to stick around and await developments. Soon, a white terrier with a black patch on its left eye also joins in. A little later, a group of expectant dogs assembles. This is followed by an intense dog fight which scares off Sally.
This is how the dog fight gets commented upon: “There is about any dog fight a wild, gusty fury which affects the average mortal with something of the helplessness induced by some vast clashing of the elements. It seems so outside one’s jurisdiction. One is oppressed with a sense of the futility of interference.”
However, Ginger does decide to interfere. He does so successfully, much to the relief of Sally.
Later in the narrative, we meet Toto, a small woolly animal with a persistent and penetrating yap. Toto likes a cracker after breakfast. Judicious dieting indeed perks him up. He goes on to play an important role in the lives of Sally and Ginger.
When it comes to etching out characters, P G Wodehouse is an acknowledged genius. His expertise in this realm is not restricted to human beings alone. It covers pigs, cats, swans and dogs as well. ‘St. Bernard dogs doing the square thing by Alpine travelers’ is another expression which finds frequent mention in his narratives!
New Wodehouse readers sometimes ask which of the Jeeves stories they should read first. Opinion on the matter seems to be divided into two camps; many people recommend ‘Carry On, Jeeves’, whereas I usually suggest ‘The Inimitable Jeeves’ (1923). Both are excellent. The difficulty is a matter of chronology.
Today’s writers and publishers make it easy for readers to progress from ‘book one’ of a series in a logical and predictable manner, through its various instalments, to the series conclusion. Many modern series are well planned in advance. Others feature recurring characters in separate stories (crime fiction leaps to mind) which can be read in any order, although the chronologically-inclined reader can read them in order of publication to avoid ‘spoilers’. And modern readers are so accustomed to ‘the novel’ that it’s the only form of fiction most of us ever read.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve been sharing the favourite authors of Wodehouse lovers in the ‘Fans of P G Wodehouse’ Facebook community. This final instalment lists the 50 most popular writers listed during our discussion of the topic. Many of these writers were equally popular, and the order in which they are listed here should not be considered proof of their relative popularity. I share them, imperfectly ranked as they are, in the interests of helping like-minded readers who may be looking for ‘new’ authors to try.
Here is yet another post which would be of interest to those who survive on their daily dose of quality reading. ‘The Guide’ and ‘Malgudi Days’ of R K Narayan happen to be my favorites!
In my last piece, I revealed the top top five authors Wodehouse lovers in the ‘Fans of P G Wodehouse’ Facebook community named as their favourites (when not reading Wodehouse). No doubt you’re itching to know who else our Plum chums love to read, so I’m here to share the next five most popular authors named. As these five were almost equally popular, I’ve listed them chronologically.
Charles Dickens (b. 1812)
‘She dotes on poetry, sir. She adores it; I may say that her whole soul and mind are wound up, and entwined with it. She has produced some delightful pieces, herself, sir. You may have met with her ‘Ode to an Expiring Frog,’ sir.” ‘
Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers
Dickens has both fans and detractors among our Wodehouse loving fraternity. As someone who reads for escapist pleasure, I sympathise with those who avoid Dickens. It seems Wodehouse was…
“Oh, yes! I thought it was much better than Severed Throats.”
“So did I,” said Cyril. “Much better. Brighter murders, subtler detectives, crisper clues … better in every way.”
The two twin souls gazed into each other’s eyes. There is no surer foundation for a beautiful friendship than a mutual taste in literature.
P G Wodehouse (‘Strychnine in the Soup’ in Mulliner Nights)
I recently asked the ‘Fans of P G Wodehouse’ Facebook community about their favourite authors – who they like to read when not curled up with Plum’s latest. The response was a staggering 370 comments (and counting) listing over 250 different authors. I’ve collated the replies and can now reveal the top 50 authors these Wodehouse lovers named as…
The delicately nurtured amongst us occasionally bemoan the way they have been treated by the Master Wordsmith of our times – P G Wodehouse. Admittedly, his narratives are replete with somewhat jaundiced references to the fairer sex. We could readily jump to the conclusion that his works have been written only for an exclusive boys’ club.
Consider these samples from ‘Jeeves in the Offing’:
Sample 1:
‘It just shows you what women are like. A frightful sex, Bertie. There ought to be a law. I hope to live to see the day when women are no longer allowed.’ ‘That would rather put a stopper on keeping the human race going, wouldn’t it?’ ‘Well, who wants to keep the human race going?’ ‘I see what you mean. Yes, something in that, of course.’
Sample 2:
‘Why? You were crazy about the girl once.’ ‘But no longer. The fever has passed, the scales have fallen from my eyes, and we’re just good friends. The snag in this business of falling in love, aged relative, is that the parties of the first part so often get mixed up with the wrong parties of the second part, robbed of their cooler judgment by the parties of the second part’s glamour. Put it like this. The male sex is divided into rabbits and non-rabbits and the female sex into dashers and dormice, and the trouble is that the male rabbit has a way of getting attracted by a female dasher (who would be fine for the male non-rabbit) and realizing too late that he ought to have been concentrating on some mild, gentle dormouse with whom he could settle down peacefully and nibble lettuce.’
Sample 3:
‘Well, let me tell you, Jeeves, and you can paste this in your hat, shapeliness isn’t everything in this world. In fact, it sometimes seems to me that the more curved and lissome the members of the opposite sex, the more likely they are to set Hell’s foundations quivering.’
Sample 4:
Of course, there are several others, liberally embedded in most of his works. Consider this one from the story, ‘Jeeves and the Kid Clementina.’
‘I was suffering from a considerable strain of the old nerves at the moment, of course, and, looking back, it may be that I was too harsh; but the way I felt in that dark, roosting hour was that you can say what you like, but the more a thoughtful man has to do with women, the more extraordinary it seems to him that such a sex should be allowed to clutter up the earth.’
Going through stuff such as this, any self-respecting woman is likely to get offended. Hate at first sight would ensue. The inevitable conclusion would be that the author does not treat women characters with the respect they deserve.
The Soft Power
My proposition is that this is a rather superficial view. Scratch below the surface of any weird happening in Plumsville and we are bound to find that women rule the roost. They exercise tremendous power of a soft kind on the hapless men who happen to be either the victims of Cupid’s machinations, or just aspire to be preux chevaliers.
We run into dominating aunts and overbearing sisters and secretaries. We meet goofy spinsters and intellectually ambitious amazons. We come across assertive authors and meek scullery maids. In Plumsville, women invariably hold all the aces. They simple deserve to be there, because, compared to their men counterparts, they are smarter.
On the other hand, men happen to be rather docile. They remain contented with being a putty in the hands of those they are trying to woo. They happen to be chivalrous and would go to any length to retain the women’s affections and deepen their romantic bonds. The women merely need to snap their fingers and the men would simply rush into the battlefield, much like knights in shining armors would have done in the days of yore. They need to win the approval of their love interest at any cost.
In most of the narratives, the menfolk in Plumsville do not hesitate to fulfill even the most weird – and sometimes patently goofy – wishes of the loves of their lives. They also have their codes to follow. Standing up to their genial but scheming aunts and sisters does not come easy to them.
Here is a quick recap of the diverse kinds of women we get introduced to.
The Stiff-Upper-Lip Aunts and Sisters
Much against his better judgement, Bertie Wooster is prodded by Aunt Dahlia to purloin a silver cow creamer (‘The Code of the Woosters’). In another narrative (‘Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen’), he is hounded by the aged relative to first steal and then restore a cat whose absence would ensure that the local races are lost by the rival party’s horse.
Elsewhere, Lord Marshmoreton has to muster all his courage to stand up to his sister, Lady Caroline Byng, and declare a matrimonial alliance with his newly appointed secretary (‘A Damsel in Distress’).
The Reformers
We get to meet Vanessa Cook in ‘Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen’. She announces her marriage to Bertie, leaving him thoroughly shaken in limb and spirit. Post-marriage, no Drones Club, no alcohol and no smoking. The last one is thanks to Tolstoy, who has apparently held that twirling one’s fingers gives as much joy as smoking!
The Overbearing Ones
A desperate lover in Gussie Fink-Nottle, enamoured by Madeline Bassett, has to lay off all the vitamins of animal origin. The poor guy has to skip Anatole’s lavish spreads and survive only on spinach, sprouts, broccoli and similar stuff (Right Ho, Jeeves).
Stiffy Byng’s map, as a rule, tends to be rather grave and dreamy, giving the impression that she is thinking deep, beautiful thoughts. Quite misleading, of course. Harold Pinker, a vicar, gets prodded by her to pinch a policeman’s helmet, braving the risk of being defrocked (‘The Code of the Woosters’).
Pauline Stoker expects her beau to swim a mile before breakfast and then proceed to play five sets of tennis post-lunch. Her soul mate has to be someone like Chuffy who is adept at riding, shooting and following foxes with loud cries. Generally speaking, someone on the dynamic side (‘Thank You, Jeeves’).
Taking Men for Granted
Bertie is persuaded by Roberta Wickham to puncture hot water bottles in the middle of the night. In ‘Jeeves in the Offing’, he is even declared to be engaged to her. She does it only to ensure that her parents may then view her intended alliance with Reginald Herring in a favorable light.
Nobby charms Bertie into abusing an uncle so Boko, the out-of-favor lover, may earn some brownie points and thereby win her hand. Somehow, his guardian angel ensures his not being able to do so. (‘Joy in the Morning’).
The Sculptors of Intellect
Florence Craye tries to mould the men she falls for. She treats males like a mere chunk of plasticine in the hands of a sculptor. She is one of those intellectual girls. Her manner is brisk and aunt-like. Expecting Bertie to go through ‘Types of Ethical Theory’ comes naturally to her (‘Joy in the Morning’).
Vanessa Cook (‘Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen’) does not expect Bertie to start improving his intellect by reading Turgenev and Dostoyevsky. She merely expects him to go through ‘The Prose Ramblings Of A Rhymester’, a collection of whimsical essays by Reginald Sprockett, a brilliant young poet from whom the critics expect great things.
The Charmers
Miss Dalgleish is fond of dogs. She has caught Tuppy on a rebound just after a break-up between him and Angela. She is a largish, corn-fed girl, who wears tailor-made tweeds and thick boots. She has charmed Tuppy into playing football for the village of Upper Bleaching, a grave risk for someone who is born and bred in the gentler atmosphere of London. On the day of the match, Tuppy risks life and limb, only to please her. However, she is not present to witness the bravado. Instead, she goes off to London, trying to lay her hands on an Irish water-spaniel (‘The Ordeal of Young Tuppy – Very Good, Jeeves!’).
The Feisty Ones
Joan Valentine (‘Something Fresh’) comes across as a delightful example of an independent woman who knows her mind and lives life on her own terms. She is a girl of action. She is one whom Life has made not only reckless, when a venture is afoot, but also wary of friendly advances. Stealing a scarab is a venture that interests her. She detests getting a soft treatment at the hands of the sterner sex. To quote her:
‘You look on woman as a weak creature to be shielded and petted. We aren’t anything of the sort. We’re terrors. We’re as hard as nails. We’re awful creatures. You mustn’t let my sex interfere with your trying to get this reward.’
The Soft-natured Ones
It is not that we do not get introduced to soft-natured women in Plumsville.
The Soothing Motherly Kind
In ‘Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves’, we meet Emerald Stoker who is one of those soothing, sympathetic girls you can take your troubles to, confident of having your hand held and your head patted. There is a sort of motherliness about her which you find restful. But she does not borrow money. Much too proud. Having lost money at the races, she decides to supplement her income by assuming the post of a cook at Totleigh Towers.
The Peace-Loving Kind
In ‘Ring for Jeeves’, we come across the gentle Jill. Wodehouse’s description of her rushing to the aid of her lover, despite having broken the engagement owing to a misunderstanding on her part, is lovingly captured as under:
‘It is a characteristic of women as a sex, and one that does credit to their gentle hearts, that – unless they are gangsters’ molls or something of that kind – they shrink from the thought of violence. Even when love is dead, they dislike the idea of the man to whom they were once betrothed receiving a series of juicy ones from a horse whip in the competent hands of an elderly, but still muscular, chief constable of a county. When they hear such a chief constable sketching out plans for an operation of this nature, their instinct is to hurry to the prospective victim’s residence and warn him of his peril by outlining the shape of things to come.’
The True Romantics
In the same narrative, we get to meet Captain Biggar who believes in following the code that says a poor man must not propose marriage to a rich woman, for if he does, he loses his self-respect and ceases to play with a straight bat.
He is in love with Mrs Spottsworth who is a strong believer in rebirths. She sees themselves in some dim, prehistoric age. In this previous existence, they were clad in skins. Captain had hit her over the head with a club and dragged her by her hair to his cave. A true romantic at heart!
The Fitness Buffs
Then we have Maud (‘A Damsel in Distress’) who hates obesity. After giving the poor George Bevan a short shrift and making him plan to depart for USA, she realizes that her infatuation with Geoffrey Raymond was, well, a mere infatuation. She loses no time in changing her mind and starts discussing her post-matrimonial plans with George over telephone.
The Efficient Secretaries
In the same narrative, Alice Faraday happens to be a secretary of gentle persuasion. She is keen to do enough work to merit her generous salary. However, Lord Marshmoreton’s love for gardening comes in the way of his working on the Family History.
One could go on and on. One thing is clear, though. In Plumsville, we get to meet women of all ages, sizes, shapes and classes. Invariably, they end up taking a saunter down the aisle with the men of their dreams. But the choice is invariably theirs.
Grant them their moodiness, though. They could have transient rifts, triggered by sharks, mustaches or hats. In the end, however, sundered hearts invariably get united.
Much too often, the so-called sterner sex ends up being the weaker sex. More to be pitied than to be censured!
In Plumtopia, a treasure trove of Wodehouse related matters, there is a great post on women. The author concludes as follows:
“In Wodehouse’s art, as in life, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This puts him above most writers I know, male or female, who rarely take the trouble to create ‘unattractive’ female characters, let alone make them central figures in romance. Of course Wodehouse offers plenty of attractive women too.
All this makes Wodehouse a terrific writer of, and for, women (Terry Pratchett is another) and it’s hardly surprising to learn that he has a large and enthusiastic female following. His fans include Dr Sophie Ratcliffe from the University of Oxford, who edited P. G. Wodehouse: A life in Letters.”
Occasionally, we get to meet professional women as well, though mostly as authors, editors and headmistresses. Had Wodehouse lived in today’s age and times when women have broken through the glass ceiling in diverse fields of life, we would have had the pleasure of curling up in bed with one of his inimitable works which might have offered a ringside view of more career-oriented women.
(Notes:
Those of you who wish to look up a scintillating piece on the subject of Wodehouse and Feminism may like to check out this one from Elin Woodger, an eminent expert on Plummy affairs: http://www.wodehouse.org/extra/PL/PL_v37_nr3.pdf.
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ervyn Potter, the Hollywood heart-throb, who leads poor Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps astray in Barmy in Wonderland (1952). But before you start quoting these sentiments as the views of the author himself, have look at what happens to the frequently pie-eyed Mervyn.
ashokbhatia 