Uncle Fred and Shakespeare
Yet another sterling example of Wodehouse’s use of Shakespeare is found in Uncle Fred in the Springtime (1939). 
When Alaric, Duke of Dunstable decides to take Empress of Blandings away from her loving master and get her fit, Lord Emsworth calls in the services of the redoubtable Uncle Fred. Fred arrives full of the joys of spring, with nephew Pongo Twistleton and old friend Polly Pott in tow, and despite the efforts of the efficient Baxter, endeavours to scupper the Duke and bring together a variety of romantic couplings.
The perils of a financial obligation
‘Beginning by quoting from Polonius’s speech to Laertes, which a surprising number of people whom you would not have suspected of familiarity with the writings of Shakespeare seem to know, Mr Pott had gone on to say that lending money always made him feel as if he were rubbing velvet the wrong way, and that in any case he would not lend it to Pongo, because he valued his friendship too highly. The surest method of creating a rift between two pals, explained Mr Pott, was for one pal to place the other pal under a financial obligation.’
Of Hamlet and optimism
When Pongo Twistleton takes a pessimistic view of the plan hatched by Lord Ickenham, the latter consoles Polly thus.
‘I hope he isn’t frightening you, Polly.’
‘He is.’
‘Don’t let him. When you get to know Pongo better,’ said Lord Ickenham, ‘you will realize that he is always like this — moody, sombre, full of doubts and misgivings. Shakespeare drew Hamlet from him. You will feel better, my boy, when you have had a drink. Let us nip round to my club and get a swift one.’
Of poets being commercial
When Ricky tries to strike a deal with Duke, a comment on poets having a keen eye on royalty returns pops up.
‘Poets, as a class, are business men. Shakespeare describes the poet’s eye as rolling in a fine frenzy from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, and giving to airy nothing a local habitation and a name, but in practice you will find that one corner of that eye is generally glued on the royalty returns. Ricky was no exception. Like all poets, he had his times of dreaminess, but an editor who sent him a cheque for a pound instead of the guinea which had been agreed upon as the price of his latest morceau was very little older before he found a sharp letter on his desk or felt his ear burning at what was coming over the telephone wire.’
The art of soliloquising
Of Aunts who soliloquise
Many of those who belong to the so-called sterner sex might appreciate the sentiment expressed here:
‘As far as the eye could reach, I found myself gazing on a surging sea of aunts. There were tall aunts, short aunts, stout aunts, thin aunts, and an aunt who was carrying on a conversation in a low voice to which no body seemed to be paying the slightest attention. I was to learn later that this was Miss Emmeline Deverill’s habitual practice, she being the aunt of whom Corky had spoken as the dotty one. From start to finish of every meal she soliloquised. Shakespeare would have liked her.’
[The Mating Season (1949)]
When smoking habits come under the lens
Lancelot Bingley, an upcoming young artist, is engaged to Gladys Wetherby, a poetess, who not only has great skill with the pen but also has the face and figure of a superior kind of pin-up girl. However, for them to be able to take a saunter down the aisle, financial support from Gladys’ Uncle Francis, an obese game hunter, is necessary.
Lancelot gets commissioned to paint a portrait of Uncle Francis, who is known to abhor tobacco in any form. However, Lancelot decides to smoke a quiet cigar in the garden when Uncle and her magnificent cook happen to come along. Hamlet gets invoked.
“That, or something like it, was what I said, and I dived into the shrubbery. The voices came nearer. Someone was approaching, or rather I should have said that two persons were approaching, for if there had been only one person approaching, he would hardly have been talking to himself. Though, of course, you do get that sort of thing in Shakespeare. Hamlet, to take but one instance, frequently soliloquised.”
[A good cigar is a smoke (Plum Pie, 1966)]
When hesitation takes over
In order to maintain matrimonial harmony, Bingo Little needs to establish an alibi which would undo the damage done since 
Rosie M Banks has discovered a photo of his in the Mirror, which shows him being led by a gruff policeman along with Miss Mabel Murgatroyd, a redhead of singular beauty.
Freddie Widgeon gets consulted at the Drones. The option of shoving his chin out and saying ‘So what?’ to the love of his life is ruled out. Freddie then reminds him of the old gag about ‘women being tough babies in the ordinary run of things but becoming ministering angels when pain and anguish wring the brow.’ An accident must come about. Getting hit by a cab is not favoured. An idea of a typewriter falling on Bingo’s toe then takes shape. Back in his Wee Tots office, Bingo attempts it.
When it comes to describing a state of hesitation, Shakespeare comes to one’s aid.
‘It really began to seem as if Freddie Widgeon’s typewriter-on-toe sequence was his only resource, and he stood for some time eyeing the substantial machine on which he was wont to turn out wholesome reading matter for the chicks. He even lifted it and held it for a moment poised. But he could not bring himself to let it fall. He hesitated and delayed. If Shakespeare had happened to come by with Ben Jonson, he would have nudged the latter in the ribs and whispered “See that fellow, rare Ben? He illustrates exactly what I was driving at when I wrote that stuff about letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would’ like the poor cat in the adage.”
[Bingo bans the bomb (Plum Pie, 1966)]
Of Humour, Humourists and the Bard
Plum held the Bard in high esteem. He once said that “Shakespeare’s stuff is different from mine, but that is not to say that it is inferior.” The frequent use of Shakespearean phrases by Plum merely attests to the same.
Even when putting across a note on humour, Plum does not hesitate to quote the Bard.
“I only asked him how many crows can nest in a grocer’s jerkin. Just making conversation.”
“And what was his reply? Tinkling like a xylophone, he gave that awful cackling laugh of his and said ‘A full dozen at cockcrow, and something less under the dog star, by reason of the dew, which lies heavy on men taken with the scurvy’. Was that sense?”
“It was humour.”
“Who says so?”
“Shakespeare says so.”
“Who’s Shakespeare?”
“All right, George.”
“I never heard of any Shakespeare.”
“I said all right, George. Skip it.”
“Well, anyway, you can tell him from now on to keep his humour to himself, and if he hits me on the head just once more with that bladder of his, he does it at his own risk.”
[A Note on Humour (Plum Pie, 1966)]
How about a Plummy Kalidasa?!
Those familiar with the works of Kalidasa, a poet known for his delicately romantic works in the Sanskrit language, could 
justifiably rue the fact that Plum, a romantic at heart himself, never got around to quoting him. If a translation had been used by Plum, his fans would have had an even richer harvest to feast upon.
Imagine a distraught Gussie Fink Nottle pining for Madeline Bassett and sending messages to her through clouds passing by above, a la Meghadootam. An exchange of letters and telegrams would have no longer been necessary. Clouds would have acted as a means of communication – a prospect which the younger lot exposed to the Internet of Things and Cloud Computing these days would have thoroughly approved of.
Ritusamhara, a compendium of lover’s escapades across diverse seasons, would have made rich contributions to the lake side jaunts of Honoria Glossop with Bertie Wooster, what with the latter scheming to push her younger brother into the lake waters. With Kalidasa’s support, the description of a harsh winter evening in Something Fresh – when Ashe Marson is being escorted to Blandings Castle – would have got bolstered no end.
A Plummy Shakespeare
Die-hard fans of The Bard might not be too amused at the Plummy version of the ageless poet. Some linguistic purists might also register a protest, possibly composing a nasty e-mail or two even as you read this piece, if piece is indeed the word I want. But there shall never be a doubt as to the additional layer of rich Shakespearean icing dished out by P G Wodehouse on top of so many of his oh-so-delicious Plum cakes, adding to the delight of his fans worldwide.
(Notes:
- Inputs received from some ardent fans of Wodehouse are gratefully acknowledged.
- A scholarly perspective on the subject can be found here.
Related Posts:
https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/07/01/presenting-a-plummy-shakespeare-part-1-of-3
https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/07/08/presenting-a-plummy-shakespeare-part-2-of-3
https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/06/26/the-perils-of-not-suffering-from-shakespearitis)
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