Bill Townend's illustrations for The White Feather

After Dulwich, with the contrarian obstinacy that would characterize his later life, Townend rejected the opportunity to go to Cambridge. He enrolled in a London art school, whence he tried, and failed, to have a career as a commercial artist of the kind that pop up throughout Wodehouse's stories. To help his friend, Wodehouse commissioned him to draw the (rather wooden) illustrations to his sixth novel, The White Feather, and went to elaborate lengths to involve him in his own early successes.

(R. McCrum, Wodehouse: A Life, p. 34)

I hadn't had a chance to see these illustrations for myself until Google Books uploaded a digitized copy of the first edition of The White Feather here. I'm in no way qualified to pass judgment on the quality of Townend's drawings, but for what it's worth the human figures do seem to me a little stiff, with movements that feel somewhat awkward and unnatural. This cartoon which appeared in the October 1906 issue of The Captain gives the same impression:

[I would feel more confident judging Townend's narrative. Many of his stories and a couple of novels are available online. I've been compiling a preliminary bibliography with links, which for the moment can be found in the Drafts & WIP page on the right. I found some of the stories actually gripping and well-written, within the limits of the adventure genre, meant for light magazine reading with few artistic pretensions. Their main attraction is the atmosphere of his sea stories, drawn from Townend's personal experiences.]

Here are the illustrations for The White Feather with their captions:

The crews ran like rats for the other boats.

"Glad when it's all over, that's what I'll be."

Albert was  quite close now.

Francis had a turn with the ball.

"Would you mind shifting a bit?" he asked, politely.

Albert fell back into three feet of muddy water.

The car came slowly back to where he stood.

"Hurry up, then," he said.

The answer was brief.

Allardyce had raced through.

The Ripton man was leaning against the ropes, utterly spent.

"Hullo," said Linton, "what's all this?"

The Dumb (?) Waiter

The Dumb (?) Waiter is the title of an obscure, short-lived and most likely lost comic sketch written by P. G. Wodehouse and Lennox Pawle, first produced in London at the Tivoli Theatre on October 24, 1910, according to A. Nicoll, English Drama, 1900-1930. The Beginnings of the Modern Period (2009), vol. 2, p. 1035. It is not mentioned in D. Jasen's The Theatre of P. G. Wodehouse (1979).

The most complete review I have been able to find is in The Era for October 29 of that year. It provides a few details of the piece's plot, language and humor:

THE TIVOLI.

Mr. Joseph Wilson's latest novelty at the Tivoli is a sketch without a plot, from the joint pens of Mr. Lennox Pawle, the popular comedian, and Mr. P. J. [sic] Wodehouse. It is entitled The Dumb (?) Waiter, the ironical significance of the adjective of the title being marked by a note of interrogation. In a restaurant scene a deaf-and-dumb gentleman and a Hebrew of uncultivated manners are dining. The Jew, after addressing several observations to the deaf mute, appropriates his evening newspaper, which is promptly snatched back by the silent one. After one or two little skirmishes the waiter arrives on the scene. He is quite a greasy specimen of his class, but his clatter of speech is prodigious. Like Gratiano, he speaks an infinite deal of nothing. His deaf-and-dumb customer has, he thinks, a sympathetic soul, and when he pours his family history into his ear, with incidental references to the doings and love-troubles of a kindly-hearted innkeeper, he has no idea that his talk flows "in one ear and out of the other." The old gentleman at last understands that he is being spoken to, and taking a small scrap of paper, he scribbles thereon: "Any statement of importance you have to make you must put it in writing. I am deaf and dumb." The sketch has the merit of giving a droll comedian a real chance as a humorist, and its chief recommendation is that it introduces to the London variety stage Mr. John Humphries, of whom too little is seen in the West End. Such a capital comedian should be permanently established in the metropolis. The music halls, at any rate, can do with him, for his waiter is a joyous optimist, and a refreshing exponent of a Cockney type as amusing as it is lifelike. Mr. Humphries may be said to have "found himself" in the halls. He should remain there.

Now, scanty as these particulars are, they allow us to connect the sketch with Wodehouse's short story "By Advice of Counsel," first published in The Strand Magazine in July of 1910 (that is, only a couple of months earlier) and collected in The Man Upstairs (1914).

In the story, a waiter recounts to a silent customer how he and his partner, Bailey, once lived comfortably off Jerry Moore, a meek bachelor. When Jerry falls for the domineering Jane Tuxton, the freeloaders fear losing their easy life. Hoping to sabotage the romance, Bailey advises the timid Jerry to flatter Jane's family by consulting them. However, Jerry is slightly deaf and mishears the advice. At dinner, Jerry aggressively insults the family and kicks their dog. Surprisingly, this sudden dominance captivates Jane, who accepts his proposal, leaving the scheming partners out in the cold. As he finishes his tale, however, the customer looks at the waiter inquiringly and says, "I don’t know what you are saying. If it is important, write it on a slip of paper. I am stone-deaf."

The similarities with the plot described in the Era review are unquestionable, starting with the almost identical concluding sentences. Both waiters are garrulous and speak with a strong Cockney accent. It seems clear that the sketch started life as an adaptation of the story, or at least a separate development of the same basic idea.

Nevertheless, even from the brief synopsis of the sketch we can tell that the two plots are different. The Jewish diner is an original addition, and the waiter's tale apparently concerns events relating to his family and an innkeeper. We don't know if the story of the innkeeper is similar to that of Jerry Moore. From the review alone, it might appear that the deafness of the customer is known to the public from the start, but it seems to me likely (and theatrically much more effective) that here too this fact was only revealed at the end, and that his stony silence is first interpreted as a sign of concentration and perhaps annoyance at the prattle of the waiter. As the notice suggests, it must have relied on the lead actor's delivery as much as on the quality of his lines. We need only imagine the story that we know translated to the stage to see that a flat or uninspired performance would ruin the sketch.

This is the first time I've heard of Lennox Pawle in association with Wodehouse. Immediately after the production Pawle went to America to start a career on Broadway: he was part of the all-British cast of Louis N. Parker's comedy Pomander Walk that opened in Montreal on December 12. There are two excellent articles on him at the Immortal Ephemera website, here and here, with plenty of additional information and photographs. As far as I'm aware, the only time Wodehouse used his surname at all in his writings was in the person of the nonexistent Mrs. Matilda Pawle, a creation of Judson Coker in Bill the Conqueror, but the connection is too tenuous to be more than a coincidence.

As I said, the script of the sketch is probably not preserved, which is a pity, but I hope that this quick inquiry has provided at least a glimpse of what this minor production was like.

Meet Mr. Mulliner: a variorum edition

Meet Mr. Mulliner (variorum edition, PDF)

This is the eighth variorum edition that I have completed, and the third this year, although work on the texts began much earlier: some of the stories that make up this book were among the first I made full comparison tables for. When I revisited those tables in order to prepare this edition I realized how much the criteria and methodology have evolved over time, hopefully in the right direction. I'm thinking of writing a more detailed account of how these editions are produced, perhaps as a future blog post.

Meet Mr. Mulliner was the first compilation of Mulliner stories, all first published between 1925 and 1927. The last of the collection but first written, "Honeysuckle Cottage," was not in fact a Mulliner story in its origin, and had its introductory paragraphs rewritten for the book. Here I had to resort to printing both versions of the introduction in parallel columns.

Apart from this exceptional case, the bulk of the apparatus refers to differences between the "final" text, represented by the UK book, and the American magazine versions. The fewer changes between the British magazine texts and the book are still significant and worthy of note, and the differences from the American book and later editions are very few and probably accidental for the most part.

As before, the difference tables are available in the WIP page until I find a more permanent home for them.

Ode to P. G. Wodehouse on his 90th birthday, by B. A. Young

This brief tribute in verse appeared in the London Financial Times on October 14, 1971:

Ode to P. G. Wodehouse on his 90th birthday

by B. A. Young

Proclaim great Wodehouse, with a blare of trumpets,
And his great cohort of eggs, beans and crumpets—
Each one of them as instantly familiar
If not as Hamlet, anyway as Ophelia!
Here is Lord Emsworth, that immortal peer,
Scratching his Empress at her starboard ear,
With lesser Threepwoods jostling in the rear;
And ever lurking readily in reach,
Efficient Baxter and the butler, Beach.
Here idiotic Bertie Wooster weaves
His endless problems, all resolved by Jeeves;
Here Ukridge, Mulliner and Corky loom,
Infinite riches in a little room
(To pinch a phrase from Marlowe): and therewith
That seminal figure, polyvalent Psmith;
While, far but still unfaded, see young Mike in
His first eleven finery at Wrykyn.
Jeeves's ad libs had frequent wisdom in them:
Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum
Might have been one (and he'd have made it scan
More elegantly than it seems I can).
Dear Plum, I needn't translate this for you,
Who doubtless know Horace through and through—
You've come to Corinth, and Olympus too.

The author, Bertram Alfred "Freddie" Young (1912-2001), was a long-time drama critic for the Financial Times. There isn't much information about him online, but here is an complete obituary in The Guardian. Some of his books are online: Bechuanaland (1966), The Colonists from Space (1979), The Mirror Up to Nature (1982) and The Rattigan Version (1988).

Some of Young's rhymes are quite clever, and his literary references are worthy of the subject. Christopher Marlowe's line comes from The Jew of Malta (1590), Act I: 

This is the ware wherein consists my wealth;
And thus methinks should men of judgment frame
Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade,
And, as their wealth increaseth, so inclose
Infinite riches in a little room.

The speaker is Barabas, a wealthy merchant sitting in his counting-house. He is surrounded by heaps of gold, but he expresses a preference for jewels and precious stones over bulky metal coins. 

The Latin line is a hexameter from Horace's Epistles, Book I.17:

Res gerere et captos ostendere civibus hostis
attingit solium Iovis et caelestia temptat:
principibus placuisse viris non ultima laus est.
non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum.
sedit qui timuit ne non succederet.

To achieve great deeds and to display captive foemen to one's fellow-citizens is to touch the throne of Jove and to scale the skies. Yet to have won favour with the foremost men is not the lowest glory. It is not every man's lot to get to Corinth. He who feared he might not win sat still.

The translator (H. Rushton Fairclough, in the Loeb edition) observes that the sentence is a "rendering of the Greek proverb, Οὐ παντὸς ἀνδρὸς ἐς Κόρινθον ἔσθ᾿ ὁ πλοῦς, which originally referred to the great expense of a self-indulgent life in Corinth. Here, however, the application is very different, viz. that not everyone can gain the prize of virtue."

Leonora Wodehouse: A short bibliography

In 1928 P. G. Wodehouse's stepdaughter Leonora decided to try her hand at writing. She described the circumstances in the brief autobiography that accompanied her 1931 article "The Mysterious Affair of the Skyscraper" thus:

Beverl[e]y Nichols said that to get something published you had to have some sort of a flair for writing. So we had a bet on it and I wrote my first article for the Evening Standard, proving I s'pose that anything, however bad, can be published. [...] The only magazines I've written for are Harper's Bazaar and the American, and the Strand in England, oh and the American Sketch here.

Here follows a list of all the essays and stories published under her own name or with a pseudonym that I have been able to find, with links to digitized copies (most of them, I'm afraid, behind paywalls) and other sources.

• My Public, The Evening Standard (UK), August 2, 1928
  (short humorous essay, evidently her first: it begins "Those are the first words I have ever written for publication, and it is a very grand sensation.")
• I'm Glad I'm Not a Man, The Evening Standard (UK), September 15, 1928
  (another short essay)
• P. G. Wodehouse at Home, The Strand Magazine (UK), January 1929
  (published at Madame Eulalie here)
• Myself as I Think Others See Me, The Queen (UK), November 27, 1929
  (essay)
• Where I Mean to Spend My Honeymoon, Harper's Bazaar (US), January 1930
  (humorous short story)
• The Mysterious Affair of the Skyscraper, The Jersey Journal (US), March 28, 1931
  (essay; earliest found among among many reprints)
• What His Daughter Thinks About P. G. Wodehouse, The American Magazine (US), December 1931
  (abridged and slightly rewritten version of "at Home" above)
• Inquest, The Strand Magazine (UK), April 1932
  (detective story, signed "Loel Yeo"; collected in D. L. Sayers' 1935 anthology The Third Omnibus of Crime)
• Poor Old Deadly Sins—They've Lost Their Glamour!, Liverpool Evening Express (UK), March 8, 1934
  (essay)

The list is probably incomplete; I will update it if any new material turns up. As can be seen, in the paragraph quoted above she left out the Queen article, and mentioned the American Sketch, a society magazine edited at the time by Beverley Nichols. I haven't been able to find any issues of this, but excerpts from "I'm Glad" appeared in some newspapers in February 1929; since one of them gives as its source "the current American Sketch" this must be later than its appearance in the Evening Standard in September 1928. Still, there may be other contributions left to discover in the Sketch.

It is not clear yet what contribution to the American Magazine she is referring to, since "What His Daughter" appeared in December 1931, many months later than "Skyscraper." Her father wrote to D. Mackail on April 12, 1931 (Yours, Plum, p. 80):

[Leonora] wrote a short story and sent it in to the American Magazine without any name on it, so that it got no pull from the fact that I am writing for the American, and each of the four editors sent it on with enthusiastic comments, and they bought it for $300 and want lots more. She also sold an article for $150.
She really can write like blazes, and, thank goodness, is now very keen on it. Her stuff has a terrific amount of charm, and she has only got to stick to it to do awfully well.

Contributions to the American for that period are generally signed and their authors well identified at the FictionMags Index, and I haven't been able to pinpoint any likely candidate. Of course, it is possible that the story was paid for but never actually used. It may even be the same as "Inquest," only published in the UK. In any case, when the full text of the magazine for 1931 enters the public domain at the end of the year I intend to examine a few stories more closely.

It is only natural that she should be concerned that her articles weren't being accepted on their own merits. "My Public," for example, presents the writer as "daughter of P. G. Wodehouse, the novelist, who has decided to follow in her father's footsteps," and "I'm Glad" as "Daughter of P. G. Wodehouse, the Famous Novelist." So "Inquest," her longest work and the only "serious" narrative found so far, was published under the pseudonym "Loel Yeo," whose identity remained a mystery for decades. As noted above, it was first singled out by D. L. Sayers and kept being included in anthologies, including E. Lee, Murder Mixture (1963), J. G. M. Merson, Nine Detective Stories (1964), J. Adrian, Detective Stories from the Strand (1991), R. Collings, A Body in the Library (1991), and M. Edwards, Serpents in Eden (2016). As far as I know, the first to reveal the identity of the author was B. Phelps in P. G. Wodehouse: Man and Myth (1990), p. 112, but Adrian in his 1991 anthology missed that. He wrote (p. 214):

About Loel Yeo no information is to be gleaned apart from the fact that he (she?) wrote a single story, 'Inquest', for the Strand in 1932. Perhaps the author was the same Yeo (no given name appended) who published a number of light sketches on the war (gathered from the Daily Mail, Punch, and Outlook) under the title Soldier Man in 1917? And perhaps not. Loel Yeo does not appear to have written anything else for any other magazine of the day, and this, to say the least, is odd. Whoever he was, and whether or not Loel Yeo was his real name (anagrammatically, it doesn't make much sense), he could write. And not merely competently, either. There is assurance in the style, an authoritative building-up of tension, convincing characterization, a telling use of irony. No wonder Dorothy L. Sayers, a fine judge of good writing, snapped 'Inquest' up in 1934 [...]

His conjecture about the 1917 "Yeo" was way off the mark, but his praise would have made Wodehouse burst with paternal pride. Criticism of the story was always unanimously positive, even enthusiastic. Reviewing Adrian's anthology, K. Schactman wrote in Scarlet Street, Fall 1993:

Finally, Adrian presents us with an unsolved mystery—namely, the true identity of the author of "Inquest." The name "Loel Yeo" pops up once as the name of the author of this story and is never heard from again. Adrian has searched other magazines in vain, and has even tried using the name as an anagram, to no avail. He cannot believe that the wit, style, and substance shown in "Inquest" were whipped up as a one-shot deal, and neither can I. My best guess is that some literary giant, publicly disdainful of the genre, created it, but who? Here is a case demanding some genuine detective work. Happy hunting!

Similarly E. Dorall in New Straits Times, March 26, 1994:

Only 'Inquest' by an unknown writer, Loel Yeo, whose sole work of fiction this seems to be, is a total success. A simple but perfect crime story, it is stylistically, in its telling use of irony and building up of tension, probably the best piece in the volume.

And several others, all along the same lines.

———

I started collecting this material some months ago, and until last week I thought that Leonora had stopped writing after her marriage to Peter Cazalet in late 1932, naturally absorbed by her familial and social obligations. The discovery of "Deadly Sins" from 1934 proved me wrong, and opened up the possibility that there are yet more articles and stories to be unearthed from the thirties and maybe even early forties. All the ones I have read so far are certainly worth the archaeological effort. They show, in varying degrees, some of the qualities justly recognized in "Inquest," and deserve to be better known and perhaps collected and republished at some point.

(Special thanks to Ananth K. for his help in getting access to several of these items.)

Ukridge: a variorum edition

 Ukridge (variorum edition, PDF)

Ukridge (UK) / He Rather Enjoyed It (US) is the second story collection and the seventh book overall for which I have completed a variorum edition. Once more, it was greatly facilitated by previous work done by the Madame Eulalie team on the magazine versions of these stories.

It is well known that their texts are broadly divided into two groups: the Cosmopolitan versions on one hand, and the Strand versions on the other which were used as the base for all book editions. This is reflected in the apparatus, where the Cs will be seen to predominate. Still, the changes introduced in both first editions and in later British editions have some interest.

I have also formatted into a publishable form the long tables of textual differences that I always compile before putting together a variorum edition. For the moment they are available in the Drafts & WIP page linked on the right; with time I hope to have a separate page with a proper introduction. They are sometimes incomplete, and the information is essentially the same as that provided by the variorums, but they offer an overview of the relationships between the texts that is not as evident in the continuous text.

Dedicated to P. G. Wodehouse

Some weeks ago Madame Eulalie inaugurated a Books section, which included some interesting extended dedications from Wodehouse's early books. This made me wonder about people who had in turn dedicated their books to him, and I started hunting around for those. What follows is a list, most likely incomplete, of books dedicated to Wodehouse during his lifetime, with links to online copies when available, and to reliable sources when not. I will probably update this list as new examples come to my notice.

A few of these, like Agathe Christie, are well known, while others I had never heard of. Some of Wodehouse's personal and professional relationships with other authors, like Ian Hay or Gerald Fairlie, are documented in his biographies or correspondence, and attested by the dedications themselves. In other cases one may assume that the dedication was inspired by a general admiration of his books, without a personal connection.

1912 Leslie Havergal Bradshaw, The Right Sort (see R. Usborne, "New P. G. Wodehouse Material"):

To P. G. Wodehouse, the right sort.

———

1924 Herbert Westbrook, The Booby Prize (see B. Phelps, P. G. Wodehouse: Man and Myth, p. 80):

To P. G. Wodehouse I dedicate this book at the risk of impairing our ancient friendship.

———

1925 Edgar Wallace, A King by Night:

To my friend P. G. Wodehouse

———

1925 Edgar Wallace, The Gaunt Stranger (see W. O. G. Lofts and D. Adley, British Bibliography of Edgar Wallace):

To my friend P. G. Wodehouse

———

1927 William (Bill) Townend, The Tramp (see B. Phelps, P. G. Wodehouse: Man and Myth, p. 79; I haven't been able to find the exact text).

———

1930 Compton Mackenzie, April Fools:

To P. G. WODEHOUSE

My dear Plummy,
A short while ago you told me you were re-reading Poor Relations. With that in mind I am venturing to dedicate the sequel to you. But, of course, the real reason for writing your name on this page is that I want to be registered as one of your most devoted readers and to sign myself in admiration

Yours gratefully,

Compton Mackenzie

———

1931 E. Phillips Oppenheim, Up the Ladder of Gold:

To

My Friend

"PLUM" WODEHOUSE

Who tells me what I can scarcely believe,
that he enjoys my stories as much as I do his.

———

1931 Gerald Fairlie, The Man with Talent:

Dedication

For P. G. Wodehouse because of many happy hours with Plum before ever I knew him.

———

1932 Leslie Charteris, Getaway:

To

P. G. Wodehouse

who had time
to say a word for the Saint stories,
when he could have written them
so much better himself

———

1934 Ian Hay, David and Destiny:

To

my friend

P. G. Wodehouse

under whose remorseless goadings I have at last contrived to finish this book after seven years of labour grievously interrupted by periodical excursions (thrice in his company) into other and more frivolous fields of endeavour

———

1937 Anthony Berkeley, Trial and Error:

To P. G. Wodehouse

———

1960 Agatha Christie, Hallowe'en Party:

To P. G. Wodehouse——
whose books and stories have brightened my life for many years. Also, to show my pleasure in his having been kind enough to tell me that he enjoys my books.

———

1970 Douglas Enefer, The Deadline Dolly:

To P. G. Wodehouse
for the unending pleasure
of all his books