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Posts Tagged ‘Jeeves’

 

When someone of the calibre of Arunabha Sengupta decides to wield his pen (oops….keyboard!) and dishes out something Plummy, die-hard fans of the Master Wordsmith of our times rejoice. The sceptics make feeble attempts to punch holes in the arguments put forth. The fence-sitters suddenly realize that there is more to Plum than meets the intellectual eye.

The rest of humanity, comprising those who remain not-so-blissfully unaware of the blissful works of P G Wodehouse, continues to trudge through life, sans the succour which low-hanging fruits of eternal wisdom offer on the streets of Plumsville.

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A tide in the affairs of men

Amongst the not-so-delicately-nurtured characters in the Wodehouse canon, there are at least three brainy coves we all admire – Jeeves, Lord Ickenham and Psmith. As to the last one, here is how one of his theories of Life gets bolstered by The Bard.

‘It was one of Psmith’s theories of Life, which he was accustomed to propound to Mike in the small hours of the morning with his feet on the mantelpiece, that the secret of success lay in taking advantage of one’s occasional slices of luck, in seizing, as it were, the happy moment. When Mike, who had had the passage to write out ten times at Wrykyn on one occasion as an imposition, reminded him that Shakespeare had once said something about there being a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, &c., Psmith had acknowledged with an easy grace that possibly Shakespeare had got on to it first, and that it was but one more proof of how often great minds thought alike.’

[Psmith in the City (1910)]

A dash of patriotic zeal

When it comes to loving their countries, both Wodehouse and Shakespeare do not disappoint.

‘He spoke of England’s future, which, he pointed out, must rest on these babies and others like them, adding that he scarcely need remind them that the England to which he alluded had been described by the poet Shakespeare as this royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, this earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, this other Eden, demi-Paradise, this fortress built by nature for herself against infection and the hand of war. Than which, he thought they would all agree with him, nothing could be fairer.’

[Leave it to Algy – A Few Quick Ones (1959)]

Of soldiers with a growth of fungus

“Oh, there you are,” I said.
“Yes, here we are,” replied the relative with a touch of asperity. “What’s kept you all this time?”
“I would have made it snappier, but I was somewhat impeded in my movements by pards.”
“By what?”
“Bearded pards. Shakespeare. Right, Jeeves ?”
“Perfectly correct, sir. Shakespeare, speaks of the soldier as bearded like the pard.”

[Jeeves Makes an Omelette – A Few Quick Ones (1959)]

Of hard-working citizens guaranteeing the country’s future

‘In an age so notoriously avid of pleasure as the one in which we live it is rare to find a young man of such sterling character that he voluntarily absents himself from a village concert in order to sit at home and work: and, contemplating John, one feels quite a glow. It was not as if he had been unaware of what he was missing. The vicar, he knew, was to open the proceedings with a short address: the choir would sing old English glees: the Misses Vivien and Alice Pond-Pond were down on the programme for refined coon songs: and, in addition to other items too numerous and fascinating to mention, Hugo Carmody and his friend Mr Fish would positively appear in person and render that noble example of Shakespeare’s genius, the Quarrel Scene from Julius Caesar.

Yet John Carroll sat in his room, working. England’s future cannot be so dubious as the pessimists would have us believe while her younger generation is made of stuff like this.’

[Money for Nothing (1928)]

When decorum has to be maintained at the Drones

Members of this exalted club need to be persuaded to allow a kid to be allowed on the premises.

‘”Yes,” said a Bean. “He can try as much as he likes to cloud the issue by calling him ‘Algernon Aubrey’, as if he were a brother or cousin or something, but the stark fact remains that the above is his baby. We don’t want infants mewling and puking about the Drones.”
“Keep it clean,” urged a Pieface.
“Shakespeare,” explained the Bean.
“Oh, Shakespeare? Sorry. No,” said the Pieface, “we don’t want any bally babies here.”
A grave look came into the Crumpet’s face.
“You want this one,” he said. “You can’t afford to do without him. Recent events have convinced Bingo that this offspring of his is a Grade A mascot, and he feels that the club should have the benefit of his services. Having heard his story, I agree with him. This half-portion’s knack of doing the right thing at the right time is uncanny. I believe the child is almost human.”
His eloquence was not without its effect.’

Little, Algernon Aubrey [A Few Quick Ones (1959)]

When the nerves are all of a twitter

Very often, Plum’s characters are all of a twitter. Confusion reigns supreme. Here are some snippets where The Bard comes to Plum’s aid.

When Oofy faces a financial dilemma

‘To say that Oofy was all in a dither is really to give too feeble a picture of his emotions. They were such that only a top-notcher like Shakespeare could have slapped them down on paper, and he would have had to go all out.’

[Oofy, Freddie and the Beef Trust, A Few Quick Ones (1959)]

A challenging assignment leaves Bertie shaken and stirred

When Aunt Dahlia tells Bertie to pinch the silver cow creamer, he is all of a twitter. ‘The cat chap’ gets quoted.

‘That is the problem which is torturing me, Jeeves. I can’t make up my mind. You remember that fellow you’ve mentioned to me once or twice, who let something wait upon something? You know who I mean — the cat chap.’
‘Macbeth, sir, a character in a play of that name by the late William Shakespeare. He was described as letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would’, like the poor cat i’ th’ adage.’
‘Well, that’s how it is with me. I wobble, and I vacillate — if that’s the word?’
‘Perfectly correct, sir.’

[The Code of the Woosters (1938)]

Ringing for The Bard

In Ring for Jeeves (1953), we find Jeeves offering his services to William “Bill” Rowcester, the impoverished 9th Earl of Rowcester, whose stately home, Rowcester Abbey, is an encumbrance for which the Earl is seeking a buyer. He becomes embroiled in a complicated affair involving ‘fake’ bookies, stolen gems, a wealthy American widow and a big game hunter. Much excitement comes about before he succeeds in resolving matters to the satisfaction of all parties.

In praise of scoundrels

“Popped off like a jack rabbit, with me after him.”
“I don’t wonder you’re upset. Scoundrels like that ought not to be at large. It makes one’s blood boil to think of this . . . this . . . what would Shakespeare have called him, Jeeves?”
“This arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy knave, m’lord.”
“Ah, yes. Shakespeare put these things well.”
“A whoreson, beetle-headed, flap-eared knave: a knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a beggarly, filthy, worsted- stocking.”

The slings and arrows of Fate

When questioned by Jill as to why she had not been informed by Bill about his knowing Mrs Spottsworth, he is convinced that his Guardian Angels are surely upset.

‘It seemed to Bill that for a pretty good sort of chap who meant no harm to anybody and strove always to do the square thing by one and all, he was being handled rather roughly by Fate tins summer day. The fellow—Shakespeare, he rather thought, though he would have to check with Jeeves —who had spoken of the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, had known what he was talking about. Slings and arrows described it to a nicety.’

When enterprises of great importance are afoot

The Bard comes in handy when Captain Biggar, Bill and Jeeves discuss prospects at the races.

‘Captain Biggar lowered his voice again, this time so far that his words sounded like gas escaping from a pipe.
“There’s something cooking. As Shakespeare says, we have an enterprise of great importance.”

Jeeves winced.

” ‘Enterprises of great pith and moment’ is the exact quotation, sir.”’

When one is a fiancée short

When Bill rues the loss of a beloved, some consolation is in order.

“Precisely. You want to take the big, broad, spacious view. Bill. You are a fiancée short, let’s face it, and your immediate reaction is, no doubt, a disposition to rend the garments and scatter ashes on the head. But you’ve got to look at these things from every angle. Bill, old man. Remember what Shakespeare said: ‘A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke.'”

Jeeves winced.

“Kipling, Sir Roderick.”

A magnificent idea, ascribed wrongly to Shakespeare

In The Code of the Woosters (1938), Jeeves advises Bertie to drop the policeman’s helmet out of the window.

‘Yes, sir. But since then I have been giving the matter some thought, and am now in a position to say ‘Eureka!’’
‘Say what?’
‘Eureka, sir. Like Archimedes.’
‘Did he say Eureka? I thought it was Shakespeare.’
‘No, sir. Archimedes.

(To be continued)

(Related Posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/06/26/the-perils-of-not-suffering-from-shakespearitis

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/07/01/presenting-a-plummy-shakespeare-part-1-of-3)

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Those who happen to know me personally are often deceived by my polite manners. They often wonder as to why I never opted for a diplomatic career.

Allow me to set the record straight. P G Wodehouse played some role in indicating that my Guardian Angels had planned my life much unlike that of Eustace Mulliner, who was a part of the British Embassy in Switzerland.

Jeeves’ psychology-of-an-individual factor has also led me to believe that the diplomatic corps on this planet are better off without me.

My limited intuitive faculties also tell me that life as a career diplomat could not be as glamorous and hunky dory as it might appear to be from the outside of an embassy building.

The Eustace Mulliner saga

Wodehouse fans might recall that the splendid idea of Eustace Mulliner joining the British Embassy in Switzerland was dangled before him by his godfather, Lord Knubble of Knopp. Eustace had stoutly refused to avail himself of the offer.

However, things turned out differently when he was caught misbehaving with Francis, a feline creature which was a favourite of his Aunt Georgina. At the time, two more characters had popped up, taking a jaundiced view of the proceedings. His obduracy evaporated. He decided that Switzerland was a safer country to be in.

Unlike Eustace Mulliner, my Guardian Angels had planned my life along different lines.

One, I never fancied maintaining a ‘Open House’ for pets of all kinds.

Two, Fate never bestowed upon me a girl friend, that too someone like Marcella Tyrrwhitt, who would take the risk of entrusting her favourite Peke and her canary to me while going off to Paris on a brief sojourn.

Three, I have never had the privilege of having a wealthy aunt who might have taken offence at my throwing cucumber sandwiches at her cat.

Four, never have I come across an ardent animal lover like Orlando Wotherspoon, the perennial Vice President of the Dumb Chumbs’ League, who would threaten to thrash me within an inch of my life.

Nor have I had the privilege of coming across a girl friend who had Spanish blood in her; someone who would have liked to whack me with the heaviest parasol she could lay her hands on, the provocation being her discovery that a favourite Peke of hers had been gifted by me to one Beatrice Watterson.Those who have followed the ruminations of Mr Mulliner (Mulliner Nights, Open House) would recall that Eustace, upon joining the British Embassy in Switzerland, had stuck to his duties with unremitting energy.

‘So much so that, he had been awarded the Order of the Crimson Edelweiss, Third Class, with crossed cuckoo-clocks, carrying with it the right to yodel in the presence of the Vice-President.’

One might miss the rights to yodel in the presence of the high and mighty, but life has been kind to me in so many other ways.

The psychology of the individual

Jeeves would have surely approved of my keeping away from a diplomatic career. I am certain that several diplomatic disasters and gaffes have thus been avoided, saving our planet from a more uncertain future. August bodies such as the United Nations surely breathe easier.

The simpleton that I am, a career in diplomacy would have tested my reserves of patience to the hilt. Putting on a plastic smile, when necessary, would have tried my nerves no end. A Bollywood producer, had he cast me as a lead actor for one of his inane movies, would have cried all the way to his bank. Having to make inane conversations with perfect strangers on topics which are alien to the restricted domain of my knowledge would have left my soul in perennial torment.

To a lay person, the life of a career diplomat might sound flashy and exciting. Rubbing shoulders with world leaders. Travelling to exotic locales. Devouring Anatole-ish spreads. Attending conferences and banquets. Making clever speeches which get received with a thunderous applause and, possibly, even a standing ovation.

But it is not too difficult to surmise the harsh realities of a diplomatic life. These pose many challenges of a managerial kind.

Of diplomats and their career blues

Maintaining cordial international relations in our turbulent times would be no mean task. The dignity and the image of the home country needs to be upheld. Culture, heritage and values need to be showcased. Cultural nuances of the land where they happen to be posted to need to be understood and rigorously followed.

Besides negotiating and facilitating treaties, opportunities for trade promotion and closer collaboration have to be exploited to the hilt. An eye has to be kept open for business opportunities between the two countries. Unique strengths of the home country have to be showcased. Stakeholders of diverse hues, shapes, sizes and temperaments have to be kept in a positive frame of mind. Political masters have to be kept in good humour. Business barons snapping at their heels have to be kept at bay.

Meetings, conferences and banquets have to be attended. Impeccable sartorial standards have to be maintained, showcasing their home country while keeping the local sensibilities in mind. Consular services have to be dished out with courtesy, transparency and efficiency.

Morale of the staff has to be upheld at all times. Resistance to change needs to be overcome. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs has to be understood and applied in all cases. Career priorities invariably take precedence over personal matters.

The harsh slings and arrows of fate do not stop with such mighty challenges. Once in a blue moon, some odd requests have to be granted. Interviews by a bunch of giggly communication students may need to be granted. Inquisitive media journalists desperately searching for some exciting sound bites may have to be tolerated.

Lay citizens of a distant country could pop up, wanting to present a book authored by them on a subject which sounds like Latin and Greek, simply because the book was launched back home, in the home language.

The last mentioned was the fate suffered recently by two senior members of the international diplomatic corps, when I popped up in flesh and blood to present to them a copy of my book ‘Como Sobreviver Na Selva Empresarial’.

It was kind of them to have granted me an audience. Like many a harsh slings and arrows of Fate coming their way, they took it very sportingly, thereby shoring up the image of their country in the feeble mind of a lesser mortal from one of the emerging economies of the world.

Bertie Wooster would have heartily approved of their chin up attitude. So would have Eustace Mulliner.

As to my not having gravitated towards a diplomatic career myself, Jeeves would have surely approved.

Thank you, Plum!

(Related Posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/05/30/a-meeting-with-the-ambassador-of-portugal-in-norway

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2017/06/21/a-meeting-with-the-minister-counsellor-of-portugal-in-switzerland)

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Why is Wodehouse so very famous in India? In particular, why do Indians love Jeeves?!

Here is an interesting event coming up on the subject.

Plumtopia

What Ho!

Another treat for Wodehouse lovers is taking place at the British Library, this time as part of the Zee Jaipur Literature Festival. A panel, involving MP and Author Shashi Tharoor, MP and journalist Swapan Dasgupta, business writer Mihir S. Sharma, and Wodehouse expert Tony Ring will be discussing:

The Wodehouse Effect : Why India Loves Jeeves: – JLF at The British Library

It’s an intriguing subject, and one that provokes a good deal of discussion amongst the chaps and chapettes in our little Wodehouse community. (Yes, chapettes! Don’t let the all-male panel or misguided notions about Wodehouse appealing mainly to men mislead you — he has a large and enthusiastic following among Indian women).

Many people have tried to explain the reasons for Wodehouse’s popularity in India, including Shashi Tharoor in a 2012 article How the Woosters Captured Delhi. In particular, he highlights Wodehouse’s wonderful use…

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For those who are new to the world of P G Wodehouse, here is a post which offers interesting tips on where to start devouring his sunlit works.

To those who already reside in Plumsville, this post offers a new perspective on the order in which his works may be savoured.

Plumtopia

world-of-jeevesThis piece is the second in a series of guides for readers wanting to discover the joys of Jeeves and Wooster, Blandings, and the wider world of Wodehouse ‘hidden gems’. The previous post provided reading suggestions for new Wodehouse readers.

Today’s piece offers a suggested reading order for the Jeeves and Wooster stories, followed by some general notes and guidance for readers.

If you particularly dislike short stories and want to skip straight to the novels, I suggest starting your reading from Right Ho, Jeeves.

Jeeves and Wooster Reading List

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PGW HughLaurie-BertieWoosterResidents of Plumsville would surely savour this delectable piece, if piece is indeed the word one wants, discovered somewhat late by yours truly!

Sloopjonb

A little festive jeu d’esprit, written in a spirit of sincere homage to the late Master, P. G. Wodehouse. Enjoy.

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ashokbhatia

The quiet evening saw the silver rays of moonshine descending upon Blandings Castle. The soft and silvery glow dimly lit up its ivied walls, its rolling parks, its gardens and its outhouses. The frenzied revelries of Christmas were another month away. Peace prevailed. Tranquillity ruled.

Blandings castle-enIn the cozy smoking room of Blandings Castle, two persons could be sighted. In the big chair nearest to the door, one could see the Earl of Emsworth, His Excellency the President of the Republic of Plumsville. He had a cigar in his mouth and a weak highball at his side. His fuzzy brain was softly whispering in his ears that life could not get any better. His son, Hon. Freddie, was happily busy in America, executing his marketing plans for Donaldson’s Dog-Joy Biscuits. Lady Constance Keeble was off to some South American countries on a charity drive for a few more weeks. He was…

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