Lark on the Wing?
Ying Pan
I'm just starting to read PG Wodehouse. After reading every Bertie Wooster
story in my public library in quick succession, I can't remember details in
any of them. I want to reread them starting with the one where "Lark on the
Wing" and something something, features heavily. Can anyone tell me the
title of that book?
If I particularly like Bertiespeak, what book or series should I read next?
I read the golf omnibus and didn't like it as much.
I.J. Cockburn
"Ying Pan" coughed nervously, and enquired:
>I'm just starting to read PG Wodehouse. After reading every
Bertie Wooster
>story in my public library in quick succession, I can't
remember details in
>any of them. I want to reread them starting with the one
where "Lark on the
>Wing" and something something, features heavily. Can anyone
tell me the
>title of that book?
"Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves" is the one you mean, or I'm a
dutchman. Not amongst my favourites, but there we are. It
takes all sorts, and all that.
>If I particularly like Bertiespeak, what book or series
should I read next?
>I read the golf omnibus and didn't like it as much.
Psmith too has a breathtaking way with words ("Leave it to
Psmith" is probably the most accessable one), but if you want
people as "mentally negligable" as Bertie, probably tales
from the Drones club would be, strictly speaking, closer.
We will watch your future progress with great interest.
Tinkerty tonk,
Mustard
Ern
Ying Pan wrote:
>
> I'm just starting to read PG Wodehouse. After reading every Bertie Wooster
> story in my public library in quick succession, I can't remember details in
> any of them. I want to reread them starting with the one where "Lark on the
> Wing" and something something, features heavily. Can anyone tell me the
> title of that book?
>
> I read the golf omnibus and didn't like it as much.
In my opinion, the other great series of novels is the Blandings Castle
series.
_Heavy Weather_ features a character named Monty Bodkin, who has certain
similarities to Bertie. These novels are all narrated in the third
person,
so you won't get Bertie's narration, but there are other rewards. I
strongly
recommend that you read _Leave It to Psmith_ and then _Summer Lightning_
before
reading _Heavy Weather_. They will explain much therein.
As for a Blandings short story, may I recommend "Lord Emsworth and the
Girl
Friend", which features the only appearance of that fine character
Ern
The opinions expressed herein are my own and not those of Hitachi Data
Systems,
who requires me to insert this disclaimer even though it has nothing to
do
with P G Wodehouse.
Valbjørg Hervik
What Ho!
(I very recently joined this group, so I do not know if it's common
knowledge, but this phrase appears in Shakespeare's , known to Wodehousians
as "the Fellow",
Macbeth, act 4 sc. 1) Anyway. earlier today I thought about writing,
because I wonder if anybody can help me finding the origin to "The Lark on
the Wing" I mean to say, the real origin, not the Wodehouse book, which
might be "Thank you, Jeeves".
"God 'is in His Heaven all 'is right with the World!" Or something like
that.
The poem is actually mentioned in several books, sometimes as a whole,
sometimes Bertie just refers to it when all is well and whatnot?
So, can anyone tell ME who wrote the poem?
Hervik
vhe...@online.no
Ying Pan <yp...@pacbell.net> wrote in article
<6kvtlb$2ud$1...@nnrp2.snfc21.pbi.net>...
David Lee
In article <01bd8f08$0ed396e0$cbfb4382@IT-StepUser>, "Valbjørg Hervik"
<vhe...@online.no> wrote:
>
>
>
> What Ho!
(snipped)
> "God 'is in His Heaven all 'is right with the World!" Or something like
> that.
> The poem is actually mentioned in several books, sometimes as a whole,
> sometimes Bertie just refers to it when all is well and whatnot?
> So, can anyone tell ME who wrote the poem?
>
> Hervik
> vhe...@online.no
What ho old fruit.
The erudite chappy your are wanting is Mr. Robert Browning. The quote comes
from his poem "Pippa Passes" and the verse goes something like this.
The year's at the spring,
And the day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his heaven -
All's right with the world.
At least that is what my dictionary of quotations reckons.
Tinkerty tonk
The Cat Webster
--
David Lee Leigh-on-Sea, Essex aris...@argonet.co.uk
ZFC Ag http://www.argonet.co.uk/users/aristarc/
He spoke with a certain what-is-it in his voice, and I could see that,
if not actually disgruntled he was far from being gruntled.
P.G. Wodehouse - The Code of the Woosters.
Melissa D. Aaron
> What Ho!
> (I very recently joined this group, so I do not know if it's common
> knowledge, but this phrase appears in Shakespeare's , known to Wodehousians
> as "the Fellow",
> Macbeth, act 4 sc. 1) Anyway. earlier today I thought about writing,
> because I wonder if anybody can help me finding the origin to "The Lark on
> the Wing" I mean to say, the real origin, not the Wodehouse book, which
> might be "Thank you, Jeeves".
> "God 'is in His Heaven all 'is right with the World!" Or something like
> that.
> The poem is actually mentioned in several books, sometimes as a whole,
> sometimes Bertie just refers to it when all is well and whatnot?
> So, can anyone tell ME who wrote the poem?
>
> Hervik
> vhe...@online.no
It's Robert Browning, and I think it's "Pippa Passes."
Gertrude Butterwick
I.J. Cockburn
The Cat Webster sprung to assist thusly:
>The year's at the spring,
>And the day's at the morn;
>Morning's at seven;
>The hill-side's dew pearled;
>The lark's on the wing;
>The snail's on the thorn;
>God's in his heaven -
>All's right with the world.
I seem to recall reading that the lines are, to a certain
extent, ironic, and that people who quote it as Bertie does
are under a false impression of Browning's thingummijig.
Mustard
Priya (Kanaka priya Kalyanasundaram)
On Wed, 3 Jun 1998, Melissa D. Aaron wrote:
> Date: Wed, 03 Jun 1998 21:16:07 -0500
> From: "Melissa D. Aaron" <mda...@students.wisc.edu>
> Newsgroups: alt.fan.wodehouse
> Subject: Re: Lark on the Wing?
The year's in the spring,
and day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearl'd;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in His heaven--
All's right with the world!
Is my approximate recolection of at section of the Poem
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Whatever you can do or dream, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic to it
GOETHE
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
**remove
>The Cat Webster sprung to assist thusly:
>>The year's at the spring,
>>Morning's at seven;
>>The hill-side's dew pearled;
>>The lark's on the wing;
>>The snail's on the thorn;
>>All's right with the world.
It is quite obvious that this bird, Browning, never had a morning head.
Seven indeed! The mans an ass. As Plum once said -
I know why they hang people at dawn...
I mean who wants to live at dawn?
pip-pip,
Gussie
beach_th...@hotmail.com
Augustus Fink-Nottle wrote:
>
> As Plum once said -
>
> I know why they hang people at dawn...
> I mean who wants to live at dawn?
Every now and then, in black moments such as every butler is subject
to, I wonder if Plum really was the genius I take him for.
And then a nugget such as the one quoted above springs into my ken,
and I stand - like stout Cortez upon a peak in Darien - dazzled by
the breadth of the man's genius.
Beach. The Butler's Pantry, Blandings Castle.
No prizes for guessing that I am NOT a morning person.
-----== Posted via Deja News, The Leader in Internet Discussion ==-----
http://www.dejanews.com/ Now offering spam-free web-based newsreading
Anne Cotton
Ah, Gussie, I always knew you were a kindred spirit. Dawn, forsooth --
dawn is a time fit only for returning home after one's revels -- for
sleeping, not for rising. (Now, if someone would only have a kindly
chat with my retriever -- the one named Que, after that strange chappie
in Star Trek NG -- you know, the mischievous one -- who -- the dog, not
the chappie -- insists on arising at 4:45 a.m., I really would be most
grateful.)
As for morning head, no, I suspect Browning was a stranger to all that.
I mean, anyone who could live with Elizabeth...
Now, for the prize: Years ago, I heard one of those nice chirrupy
choruses (the Robert Shaw or Fred Waring type; you know the sort) singing
a truly marvelous ditty. It went "I got up with the sun this morning,"
had a merry swing to it, talked glibly about listening to birdies and
all that rot, and then the choristers hit the last line, still chirping
as happily and gaily as possible: "I got up with the sun this morning,
and I'll never do it again." Any leads on getting my hand on this gem
would be most welcome...
Lady Bassett
Miss Yvonne
It's Robert Browning's _Pippa Passes_, a rather rummy longish poem wherein
an innocent rustic miss, Pippa, sings her girlish little ditty while she
passes perfectly frightful scenes of impending doom. The wheeze is that
the doom-wreakers go through a complete change of outlook due to Pippa's
angelic singing, so that whereas all might not have been "right" with the
world, things were definitely looking up, all thanks to young Pippa.
What say we try it on Aunt Agatha?
Yours etc.,
Yvonne Maltravers
--
ps...@midway.uchicago.edu "Here comes the most beautiful woman in puppetland!"
A. Sieberson
What ho, what ho. Could any of you be a good chappie and pass along a
short explanation of the British monetary system back in the good old
Edwardian days? I confess I spend a good deal of time scratching my h.
over reading that the price of a thingummy was "5 bob" (or another rum
amount, like "5 quid" or "5 ha'pennies"), what?
And for those blitherers who speak a shambling Latin, like me, I
can only apologise for the sorry little pun. (although it is nothing
compared with a few I've seen mucking around here recently...)
Hugh Green was my Valet...I say!
Annie (her real name)
"Eggs! Eggs! Eggs! Damn all eggs!"
TimeLady
Well, then, Augustus.
I believe you will agree, as I do, with Moss Hart (the playwright chappie),
who wrote in his autobiography, _Act One_:
"So far as I know, anything worth hearing is not usually uttered at seven
o'clock in the morning; and if it is, it will generally be repeated at a
more reasonable hour for a larger and more wakeful audience."
Toodle-pip,
Annette Brougham
>It is quite obvious that this bird, Browning, never had a morning head.
>Seven indeed! The mans an ass. As Plum once said -
>
> I know why they hang people at dawn...
> I mean who wants to live at dawn?
>
>pip-pip,
>Gussie
Beach the Butler
Annie Sieberson writes:
>What ho, what ho. Could any of you be a good chappie and pass along a
>short explanation of the British monetary system back in the good old
>Edwardian days? I confess I spend a good deal of time scratching my h.
>over reading that the price of a thingummy was "5 bob" (or another rum
>amount, like "5 quid" or "5 ha'pennies"), what?
The coins were:
Farthing - worth a quarter of a penny
Halfpenny (or ha'penny: pl. ha'pennies) - half a penny (or two farthings)
Penny (pl. pence, pennies) - one of the 3 basic units of the currency
Thru'penny bit - worth three pence
Sixpenny bit (sl. tanner, half a bob) - worth six pence
Shilling (sl. bob) - worth 12 pence. The second of the basic currency units
Florin (or two bob bit)- worth two shillings
Half-crown (or half-a-crown) - worth two shillings and sixpence
Crown (sl. 5 bob) - worth five shillings
Guinea - worth 21 shillings (or 1 pound 1 shilling)
Notes were:
10 shillings (sl. 10 bob)
Pound (sl. quid) - The final basic unit of currency. Worth 20 shillings.
5 pounds (fiver)
10 pounds (tenner)
There were higher denomination notes, but they were very rare.
Having 12 pence to the shilling made it quite a useful system, 12 being
divisible by 2, 3, and 4. But the main advantage was that no one else
in the world understood it, so the Brits were able to feel superior to
everyone else. It was a sad day when we went to having a decimal system
with 100 pennies to the pound. 240 per pound was SO MUCH EASIER.
>And for those blitherers who speak a shambling Latin, like me, I
>can only apologise for the sorry little pun. (although it is nothing
>compared with a few I've seen mucking around here recently...)
>
>Hugh Green was my Valet...I say!
"Hanging's too good for a man who a man who makes puns.
He should be drawn and quoted".
And I'm glad to see one of my puns being quoted.
**remove
Lady Bassett gushed:
>Ah, Gussie, I always knew you were a kindred spirit. Dawn, forsooth --
>dawn is a time fit only for returning home after one's revels -- for
>sleeping, not for rising.
My sentiments exactly!
And we are not alone. Several other good eggs subscribe to this point of
view. Notable amongst them - Jerome K. Jerome (funny how the chap keeps
popping up time and again.) From his essay 'On Being Idle', I quote...
(God bless Project Gutenberg - ed.)
----------------------------------------
I like idling when I ought not to be idling; not when it is the only
thing I have to do. That is my pig-headed nature. If, for some urgent
reason, I ought to be up particularly early in the morning, it is then,
more than at any other time, that I love to lie an extra half-hour in bed.
Ah! how delicious it is to turn over and go to sleep again: "just for five
minutes." Is there any human being, I wonder, besides the hero of a
Sunday-school "tale for boys," who ever gets up willingly? There are some
men to whom getting up at the proper time is an utter impossibility. If
eight o'clock happens to be the time that they should turn out, then they
lie till half-past. If circumstances change and half-past eight becomes
early enough for them, then it is nine before they can rise. They are like
the statesman of whom it was said that he was always punctually half an
hour late. They try all manner of schemes. They buy alarm-clocks (artful
contrivances that go off at the wrong time and alarm the wrong people).
They tell Sarah Jane to knock at the door and call them, and Sarah Jane
does knock at the door and does call them, and they grunt back "awri" and
then go comfortably to sleep again. I knew one man who would actually get
out and have a cold bath; and even that was of no use, for afterward he
would jump into bed again to warm himself.
I think myself that I could keep out of bed all right if I once got out.
It is the wrenching away of the head from the pillow that I find so hard,
and no amount of over-night determination makes it easier. I say to myself,
after having wasted the whole evening, "Well, I won't do any more work
to-night; I'll get up early to-morrow morning;" and I am thoroughly
resolved to do so--then. In the morning, however, I feel less enthusiastic
about the idea, and reflect that it would have been much better if I had
stopped up last night. And then there is the trouble of dressing, and the
more one thinks about that the more one wants to put it off.
------------------------------
I mean to say, what! The chap positively reads my mind.
tinkerty-tonk,
Gussie
(who's soon going to have to dress for an 8 o'clock meeting on this here
Friday morn, curse it!)
Jean Tillson
Lady Bassett wrote:
>Years ago, I heard one of those nice chirrupy
>choruses (the Robert Shaw or Fred Waring type; you know the sort) singing
>a truly marvelous ditty. It went "I got up with the sun this morning,"
>had a merry swing to it, talked glibly about listening to birdies and
>all that rot, and then the choristers hit the last line, still chirping
>as happily and gaily as possible: "I got up with the sun this morning,
>and I'll never do it again." Any leads on getting my hand on this gem
>would be most welcome...
I'm afraid I can't help with this particular song, but it did put me
in mind of a great Irving Berlin number which possesses lyrics
that I always thought worthy of Plum. I am speaking, of course,
of that great WWII ditty, "Oh, How I Hate To Get Up in the
Morning" wherein the new recruit vows that:
One day I'm going to murder the bugler
One day they're going to find him dead
I'll amputate his reveille
and step upon it heavily
and spend the rest of my life in bed.
Yours ever,
Pighooey, who wakes up so slowly that she *HAS* to begin before
seven in order to get anything at all done before noon.
Emily
12 pence was a shilling aka a "bob" -- 1 pence a penny, 1/2 pence a hal
penny
1/4 pence a farthing, 1/8 pence a half-farthing
a quid is a pound
Pip pip,
Lotus Blossom, who is not Britsh at all but owns a copy of What Jane
Austen Ate and CHarles Dickens Knew: From Fox Hunting to WHist -- the
facts of daily lfe in 19th century England. As title implies, mainly
Victorian -- but full of explanations about pudding and rubbers and the
like. It's by Daniel Pool
On Thu, 4 Jun 1998, A. Sieberson wrote:
> What ho, what ho. Could any of you be a good chappie and pass along a
> short explanation of the British monetary system back in the good old
> Edwardian days? I confess I spend a good deal of time scratching my h.
> over reading that the price of a thingummy was "5 bob" (or another rum
> amount, like "5 quid" or "5 ha'pennies"), what?
>
> And for those blitherers who speak a shambling Latin, like me, I
> can only apologise for the sorry little pun. (although it is nothing
> compared with a few I've seen mucking around here recently...)
>
> Hugh Green was my Valet...I say!
>
The Mixer
Beach the Butler wrote:
>
>
> Having 12 pence to the shilling made it quite a useful system, 12 being
> divisible by 2, 3, and 4. But the main advantage was that no one else
> in the world understood it, so the Brits were able to feel superior to
> everyone else.
I feel sure what Beach meant to say here was "But the main advantage was
that no one else in the world understood it, so Britain's notoriously
crooked merchants, cab drivers, coster-mongers and so forth were able to
cheat unsuspecting tourists right, left and centre."
The Mixer
FRAJM
qab...@uab.rubbish.ericsson.se (Beach the Butler) wrote:
>Guinea - worth 21 shillings (or 1 pound 1 shilling)
This is a particularly interesting one since no such coin was minted after
1813. After that it continued as a unit of value only. Traditionally, certain
prices were quoted in guineas, others in pounds. For example, a horse's value
was expressed in guineas. I believe, though here I'm not as certain, that
auction prices generally were expressed in terms of guineas when the value was
high.
The guinea coin was minted between 1663 to 1813 and and its value was fixed in
1717 at 21 shillings. It was gold coin and the coin was supposed to have from
Guinea in West Africa originally, thus the name.
There was another gold coin that once circulated in the U.K., the sovereign
(and its concomitant) half-sovereign. The sovereign was worth a pound, the
half-sovereign 10 shillings, of course. I'm not sure about the sovereign, which
appears to have been the name of several different British gold coins, but the
half-sovereign dates back to 1503. I don't know, but I think the sovereign was
not minted after the Victorian era.
(James Bond had a trick attache case in the film _From Russian With Love_ that
concealed two strips containing 20 gold sovereigns, gold being the
international coinage.)
Frank Richard Aloysius Jude Maloney
http://members.aol.com/frajm/
"All over the room throats were being strained and minds broadened."
-- P. G. Wodehouse, Piccadilly Jim
John Coo
Augustus Fink-Nottle wrote:
> It is quite obvious that this bird, Browning, never had a morning head.
> Seven indeed! The mans an ass. As Plum once said -
>
> I know why they hang people at dawn...
> I mean who wants to live at dawn?
Reminds me of a bright little ditty of Dorothy Parker's.
Actually, it doesn't quite - can't remember the verse.
Can someone fill in the gaps and correct this?
Gunshots miss,
Razors sting,
Ovens hiss,
Thinggummy thing!
Rivers are damp,
Nooses give,
Poisions cramp,
Might as well live!
Green Swizzle
Neil Midkiff
In article <01bd90a8$13dba870$56877586@pcab510-e> "John Coo" <john...@carleton.ca> writes:
:
:Reminds me of a bright little ditty of Dorothy Parker's.
:Actually, it doesn't quite - can't remember the verse.
:Can someone fill in the gaps and correct this?
:
:Gunshots miss,
:Razors sting,
The way I remember the Dorothy Parker ditty is:
Razors pain you,
Rivers are damp,
Acids stain you,
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful,
Nooses give,
Gas smells awful,
You might as well live.
I learned it about age 10, so I think it is probably pretty accurate.
(Isn't it odd how memorization is so much easier and longer-term
then?)
-Neil Midkiff
Anne Cotton
Guineas are also the mode of exchange in the better gentlemen's haber-
dashery establishments, or so one is told.
I suspect it's the snob appeal; just as British monetary units were
unintelligible to any of the rest of the world's inhabitants who count
in tens (not being born blessed with twelve toes or fingers...), the
guinea was the unit of exchange used in all upper-crust, expensive
establishments of any number of sorts. It fits in with the old saying
that if one has to look at the right hand column on the menu of a fancy
restaurant, one cannot afford to dine there.
Lady Bassett
beach_th...@hotmail.com
FRAJM wrote:
>
> qab...@uab.rubbish.ericsson.se (Beach the Butler) wrote:
>
> >Guinea - worth 21 shillings (or 1 pound 1 shilling)
>
> This is a particularly interesting one since no such coin was minted after
> 1813. After that it continued as a unit of value only. Traditionally, certain
> prices were quoted in guineas, others in pounds. For example, a horse's value
> was expressed in guineas. I believe, though here I'm not as certain, that
> auction prices generally were expressed in terms of guineas when the value was
> high.
>
> The guinea coin was minted between 1663 to 1813 and and its value was fixed in
> 1717 at 21 shillings. It was gold coin and the coin was supposed to have from
> Guinea in West Africa originally, thus the name.
I agonised about whether to but the guinea in, but erred on the side of
generosity since it was a term that otherwise would not have appeared on the
list (since I do not believe that there were ever any guinea notes) but it
probably does crop up in the canon.
> There was another gold coin that once circulated in the U.K., the sovereign
> (and its concomitant) half-sovereign. The sovereign was worth a pound, the
> half-sovereign 10 shillings, of course. I'm not sure about the sovereign,
> which appears to have been the name of several different British gold coins,
> but the half-sovereign dates back to 1503. I don't know, but I think the
> sovereign was not minted after the Victorian era.
You know, I had completely forgotten about the sovereign, AND the fact that
there was a half-sov (ten bob bit). My only excuse was that I rushed that post
off when I should have been working and I was away from all my references
(feeble, I know, but better than blaming the fourth dimension AGAIN).
Thank you very much for the emendation.
Incidentally, I should remind people that coins below the value of sixpence
were called coppers: sixpence to crown (inclusive) were silver. The sovereign
was gold (don't know about the half-sovereign, but I think it was gold as
well.
A butler, of course, would expect to receive GOLD coins as his tip. Hint hint.
Beach. The Butler's Pantry, Blandings Castle.
-----== Posted via Deja News, The Leader in Internet Discussion ==-----
beach_th...@hotmail.com
My dear Mixer,
British merchants, costermongers, etc. never needed to rely on the currency
conversion. They had (and have) PLENTY of other methods!
Butlers, however, are as pure as the driven s. If not purer.
TimeLady
Augustus Fink-Nottle wrote:
>I mean to say, what! The chap positively reads my mind.
>
>tinkerty-tonk,
>Gussie
>(who's soon going to have to dress for an 8 o'clock meeting on this here
> Friday morn, curse it!)
What ho, Gussie!
One of your options, of course, is to change your sleeping habits so 8:00
a.m. comes midday instead of first thing in the morning. That, however,
would involve getting up even earlier - perish the thought.
Your other option, old bean, is to dress the night before. You may arrive a
little rumpled, but none the worse for the wear, what?
Toodle-pip,
Annette Brougham
(who had to get up at 5:30 ack emma just two days ago, and sympathizes with
you)
TimeLady
Anne Cotton wrote in message <35783...@news.mtholyoke.edu>...
>I suspect it's the snob appeal; just as British monetary units were
>unintelligible to any of the rest of the world's inhabitants who count
>in tens (not being born blessed with twelve toes or fingers...), the
Calls to mind that Tom Lehrer chappie, and his "New Math"... "Base 8 is just
like base 10, really... if you're missing two fingers."
Ta,
Annette Brougham
Sailesh Krishnamurthy
> Having 12 pence to the shilling made it quite a useful system, 12 being
> divisible by 2, 3, and 4. But the main advantage was that no one else
> in the world understood it, so the Brits were able to feel superior to
> with 100 pennies to the pound. 240 per pound was SO MUCH EASIER.
Ha .. I've heard of this kind of thing. My mater relates the horror
stories of going to primary school in pre-Independence India. One of the
most traumatic experiences was the dreaded conversion of amounts from
Rupees-annas-paise to Pounds-shillings-pence and vice-versa. If I'm not
wrong, it was 6 paise make an anna, and 16 annas make a Rupee.
--
Cheers
Sailesh (http://www.meer.net/~sailesh)
Ph: (408) 257-7314 (H)
(408) 463-3176 (W)
FRAJM
beach_th...@hotmail.com wrote:
>You know, I had completely forgotten about the sovereign, AND the fact that
>there was a half-sov (ten bob bit). My only excuse was that I rushed that
>post
>off when I should have been working and I was away from all my references
>(feeble, I know, but better than blaming the fourth dimension AGAIN).
>
>Thank you very much for the emendation.
>
No need for excuses. Your list is very useful and to the point, as one would
expect of really good butler of the old school. The keeper or keepers of the
FAQ would do well to add it to that invaluable document.
Interestingly, I was starting _Mike and Psmith_ this morning. There's a passage
where Mike touches his older brother for a "sovereign" but obviously he means a
pound since Jellicoe had just touched him for a "quid" and that was all the
money Mike had.
>Incidentally, I should remind people that coins below the value of sixpence
>were called coppers: sixpence to crown (inclusive) were silver. The sovereign
>was gold (don't know about the half-sovereign, but I think it was gold as
>well.
>
>A butler, of course, would expect to receive GOLD coins as his tip. Hint
>hint.
>
>
I notice that Jeeves is tipped with crackling notes. I guess that's one of the
differences between a butler and a gentleman's gentleman.
I always wondered what the going rate was. Was there some sort of understood
per diem or was it calculated per bag as on a ship? Did one tip any other
members of the domestic staff? I remember a scene in the movie _Maurice_ where
Scudder the undergameskeeper refused a tip and there appeared to be a number of
domestics lined up to see Maurice and Archie off.
Lorrill Buyens
On Thu, 4 Jun 1998 18:09:08 -0700, "A. Sieberson"
<far...@u.washington.edu>, while summoning a demon, chanted:
>What ho, what ho. Could any of you be a good chappie and pass along a
>short explanation of the British monetary system back in the good old
>Edwardian days? I confess I spend a good deal of time scratching my h.
>over reading that the price of a thingummy was "5 bob" (or another rum
>amount, like "5 quid" or "5 ha'pennies"), what?
Farthing = one-quarter of a penny
Penny = self-obvious
Shilling, bob, etc. = twelve pennies
Half-crown = two shillings and sixpence
Crown = five shillings
Pound, quid, etc. = twenty shillings
Guinea = one pound and one shilling, rarely used except to calculate
professional fees (partly because, as it was explained on the Hounds
of the Internet mailing-list, the clerks were accustomed to receiving
the extra shillings)
>Annie (her real name)
Cordially yours,
Rosie M. Banks
--
| Rosie M. Banks |
|Author of _Mervyn Keene, Clubman_; _Only a |
|Factory Girl_; and other fine literary works|
Support the Jayne Hitchcock HELP Fund
http://www.geocities.com/hollywood/6172/helpjane.htm
Lorrill Buyens
On Thu, 4 Jun 1998 16:20:46 +0100 (BST), ENG...@leeds.ac.uk (I.J.
Cockburn), while summoning a demon, chanted:
>The Cat Webster sprung to assist thusly:
>>The year's at the spring,
>>And the day's at the morn;
>>Morning's at seven;
>>The hill-side's dew pearled;
>>The lark's on the wing;
>>The snail's on the thorn;
>>God's in his heaven -
>>All's right with the world.
>
>I seem to recall reading that the lines are, to a certain
>extent, ironic, and that people who quote it as Bertie does
>are under a false impression of Browning's thingummijig.
From the Introduction to _Robert Browning: Selected Poetry_
(Daniel Karlin, editor; Penguin; 1989):
"...The author of the lines `God's in his heaven/All's right with
the world' has been praised and blamed for being a breezy
Victorian optimist, even though the lines are spoken by a young
girl outside a house where an adulterous couple are quarreling
over the recent murder of the lady's husband."
>Mustard
beach_th...@hotmail.com
FRAJM wrote:
>
> Beach_the_Butler wrote:
> >Incidentally, I should remind people that coins below the value of sixpence
> >were called coppers: sixpence to crown (inclusive) were silver. The sovereign
> >was gold (don't know about the half-sovereign, but I think it was gold as
> >well.
> >
> >A butler, of course, would expect to receive GOLD coins as his tip. Hint
> >hint.
>
> I notice that Jeeves is tipped with crackling notes. I guess that's one of the
> differences between a butler and a gentleman's gentleman.
Let's not forget that Jeeves' takings are generally rewards for
(delicate) services rendered, and therefore more than just the odd
sovereign that comes MY way.
> I always wondered what the going rate was. Was there some sort of understood
> per diem or was it calculated per bag as on a ship? Did one tip any other
> members of the domestic staff? I remember a scene in the movie _Maurice_ where
> Scudder the undergameskeeper refused a tip and there appeared to be a number
> of domestics lined up to see Maurice and Archie off.
Oh indeed. A guest was expected to tip ALL the servants as he or she
left. The man (naturally) was expected to do the tipping for any couples
that stayed. And the higher servants expected higher tips. The Butler
and the Housekeeper expected only the very best.
I did read of one case (unfortunately I am unable to quote the reference)
where a Housekeeper was tipped by a Peer. She returned it saying "I am
sorry, your lordship, I only accept gold". His reply was "Do you indeed.
Then you get nothing, for I only tip silver".
The avariciousness of some below-stairs led to a movement amongst a
minority of the Gentry of refusing to allow their servants to accept
gratuities. If caught doing so, the servant could be dismissed without
references. For some reason, this movement died out. Mainly because
these people just couldn't get the staff.
Beach. The Butler's Pantry, Blandings Castle.
Tips allowed. Copper and Silver coins accepted, but Gold coins preferred.
AnnChester
Lady Bassett, Gussie, et. al. show the right spirit as regards early morning
activities. Lady Basset says:
>Dawn, forsooth --
>dawn is a time fit only for returning home after one's revels -- for
>sleeping, not for rising.
Reminds me of the motto of a sprightly little group to which I belong: "The
only proper time for leaving a bar is when the waiters are stacking the chairs
on the table, and a policeman is tapping you on the shoulder and asking you to
'Please, leave'."
Ann
"I studied it in a profound reverie for the best part of two dry martinis and a
dividend." Right Ho, Jeeves
cbi...@scruznet.com
In article <35770...@news.mtholyoke.edu>, aco...@mtholyoke.edu (Anne
Cotton) wrote:
>
> Now, for the prize: Years ago, I heard one of those nice chirrupy
> choruses (the Robert Shaw or Fred Waring type; you know the sort) singing
> a truly marvelous ditty. It went "I got up with the sun this morning,"
> had a merry swing to it, talked glibly about listening to birdies and
> all that rot, and then the choristers hit the last line, still chirping
> as happily and gaily as possible: "I got up with the sun this morning,
> and I'll never do it again." Any leads on getting my hand on this gem
> would be most welcome...
Paging Neil Midkiff. Neil Midkiff to the white courtesy phone, please.
Gally
I.J. Cockburn
Rosie M. Banks quoted thusly.
>"...The author of the lines `God's in his heaven/All's right
with
>the world' has been praised and blamed for being a breezy
>Victorian optimist, even though the lines are spoken by a
young
>girl outside a house where an adulterous couple are
quarreling
>over the recent murder of the lady's husband."
>>
>Rosie M. Banks
Thank you. That was the kind of thing i'd read. I quite like
Browning. Never managed to get through many entire poems, of
course, but i seem to recall seeing lines like
"Zooks, are we pilchards?"
and what-not interspersed with the padding. Obviously a bird
with a sense of humour, what?
Fondest regards, and so forth
Mustard
David Brain
In article <35780E...@bc.sympatico.ca>, ian_m...@bc.sympatico.ca
(The Mixer) wrote:
> I feel sure what Beach meant to say here was "But the main advantage
> was that no one else in the world understood it, so Britain's
> notoriously crooked merchants, cab drivers, coster-mongers and so forth
> were able to cheat unsuspecting tourists right, left and centre."
And then we went Decimal which allowed *everybody* to swindle everybody
else - and soon* we will join the Euro and do the same thing all over
again.
Change your currency every generation. You know it makes sense.
*"soon" in this context meaning before anyone is actually ready for it.
--
David Brain
London, UK
> Light creates shadow; light destroys shadow. <
> Such is the transience of darkness. <
Alan Bird
In article <6l8ihu$6nt$2...@uabs64.uab.ericsson.se>, Beach the Butler
<qab...@uab.rubbish.ericsson.se> writes
>Annie Sieberson writes:
>>What ho, what ho. Could any of you be a good chappie and pass along a
>>short explanation of the British monetary system back in the good old
>>Edwardian days? I confess I spend a good deal of time scratching my h.
>>over reading that the price of a thingummy was "5 bob" (or another rum
>>amount, like "5 quid" or "5 ha'pennies"), what?
>
>Farthing - worth a quarter of a penny
>Halfpenny (or ha'penny: pl. ha'pennies) - half a penny (or two farthings)
>Penny (pl. pence, pennies) - one of the 3 basic units of the currency
>Thru'penny bit - worth three pence
>Sixpenny bit (sl. tanner, half a bob) - worth six pence
>Shilling (sl. bob) - worth 12 pence. The second of the basic currency units
>Florin (or two bob bit)- worth two shillings
>Half-crown (or half-a-crown) - worth two shillings and sixpence
>Crown (sl. 5 bob) - worth five shillings
>
>10 shillings (sl. 10 bob)
>Pound (sl. quid) - The final basic unit of currency. Worth 20 shillings.
>5 pounds (fiver)
>10 pounds (tenner)
>
>There were higher denomination notes, but they were very rare.
>
>divisible by 2, 3, and 4. But the main advantage was that no one else
>in the world understood it, so the Brits were able to feel superior to
>everyone else. It was a sad day when we went to having a decimal system
>with 100 pennies to the pound. 240 per pound was SO MUCH EASIER.
>
>>can only apologise for the sorry little pun. (although it is nothing
>>compared with a few I've seen mucking around here recently...)
>>
>>Hugh Green was my Valet...I say!
>
>He should be drawn and quoted".
>
>And I'm glad to see one of my puns being quoted.
>
>
>
adds: there was an older version of the threepenny bit made of silver.
It was traditionally stuffed into Christmas plum puddings, and the
finder could make a wish. If the finder ever fully recovered, he
generally wished he'd never been so greedy as to cause the damn thing to
lodge halfway down his windpipe. (I use the pronoun 'he' advisedly:
small boys in my day were an order of magnitude greedier than small
girls.)
The thruppenny bit which replaced it had twelve sides, thus leading to
that immortal bit of knockabout, as seen in last year's Drones Smoker:
Barmy: I say, why does a thruppeny bit have twelve sides?
Pongo: I don't know, why does a thruppenny bit have twelve sides?
Barmy: So you can prize it out of a Scotchman's fist with a spanner
Pongo: Oi! oi! (Sloshes party with green whiskers over the head with an
umbrella.)
There were other names as well: a tanner was also called a joey; a half
crown was called half a dollar (although I don't recollect ever calling
a crown a dollar); ten bob was also half a note, half a bar and
(inexplicably) half a nicker.
Eric Partridge says a crown was also a tosheroon or tosher, but I
remember that being a florin. Or is my memory playing up again?
How all the above were used in spoken dialogue is another matter
entirely.
Thank God no-one's mentioned groats: coins made of leather, which were
wet when manufactured until hung out to dry on what was technically
known as a groat-hanger.
I believe you can also touch the Queen for a little something to tide
you over until the cheque arrives in the post. It only works if you are
elderly, respectably dressed and in a church on her birthday, when it's
called Maundy Money and includes a fourpenny piece. It doesn't work if
you're a scruffy dosser living on Waterloo embankment.
Tinkerty Tonk!
--
Maj Brabazon Plank
Late of the 16th Hussars (well all right, Pioneer Corps)
Melissa D. Aaron
In article <6lclud$jsj$1...@nnrp1.dejanews.com>, beach_th...@hotmail.com
wrote:
> Oh indeed. A guest was expected to tip ALL the servants as he or she
> left. The man (naturally) was expected to do the tipping for any couples
> that stayed. And the higher servants expected higher tips. The Butler
> and the Housekeeper expected only the very best.
>
> I did read of one case (unfortunately I am unable to quote the reference)
> where a Housekeeper was tipped by a Peer. She returned it saying "I am
> sorry, your lordship, I only accept gold". His reply was "Do you indeed.
> Then you get nothing, for I only tip silver".
>
> The avariciousness of some below-stairs led to a movement amongst a
> minority of the Gentry of refusing to allow their servants to accept
> gratuities. If caught doing so, the servant could be dismissed without
> references. For some reason, this movement died out. Mainly because
> these people just couldn't get the staff.
I'd like to add that etiquette books used to give instructions as to how
much to tip the staff, much as travel guides now suggest how much to tip
the waiter, busboy, porter, etc.
Those of you who know Daisy Ashford's "The Young Visiters" [sic] may
remember the confusion over tipping in that book. The authoress, being
nine years old, is clear that tipping is necessary, but isn't very clear
on the mechanics:
"Will he bring our luggage asked Ethel nervously.
I expect so said Mr. Salteena lighting a very long cigar.
Do he tip him asked Ethel quietly.
Well no I dont think so not yet we had better just thank him perlitely. . . .
I was right not to tip him whispered Mr. Salteena the thing to do is to
leave 2/6 on your dressing table when your stay is over.
Does he find it asked Ethel who did not really know at all how to go on at
a visit. I beleeve so replied Mr. Salteena anyhow it is quite the custom
and we cant help it if he does not."
Earlier, she shows Mr. Salteena tipping the same amount to his own
servants, and in the same way. Anyhow, an interesting glimpse into
Victorian tipping customs. . .
Gertrude Butterwick
FRAJM
All this talk about pre-decimal money made me get out a box of souvenirs from a
voyage I took in 1963 on the P&O Orient ship Himalaya. It was traveling from
Sydney around the world via Liverpool and was loaded mostly with Australians
going "home" as they used to call Britain regardless of how long their families
had lived down under. This was in the days before jets completely replaced
ships for long distance travel. I got on at Honolulu and went as far as
Vancouver and great fun it was especially since we were the only Americans on
board. The currency in the ship's bars and elsewhere was British. And I and my
friend were very excited by the foreigness of having to buy friendly girls gin
and tonics (we were all of 18) and paying 2/6 per, or whatever it was.
I still have a couple of huge pennies dated 1949 and 1962 with portraits of
George VI and Elizabeth II respectively on one side and a seated Britannia with
her trident and shield on the other. There's also a 1959 2 shilling piece with
design I was particularly taken with at the time: an heraldic in center
encircled by a border of shamrocks, thistles, and what I suppose are leeks
(although they look more like very tiny palm trees to me). I know I used to
have others. But even these pitiful remnants bring back a lot of very special
memories.
FRAJM
Quoting myself:
>There's also a 1959 2 shilling piece with
>design I was particularly taken with at the time: an heraldic in center
>encircled by a border of shamrocks, thistles, and what I suppose are leeks
>(although they look more like very tiny palm trees to me).
Heraldic rose, it ought to have read. Invisible ink, probably.
Richard Vine
Major Brabazon Plank writes:
>Beach the Butler writes
>>Annie Sieberson writes:
>>The coins were:
>>Farthing - worth a quarter of a penny
>>Halfpenny (or ha'penny: pl. ha'pennies) - half a penny (or two farthings)
>>Penny (pl. pence, pennies) - one of the 3 basic units of the currency
>>Thru'penny bit - worth three pence
>>Sixpenny bit (sl. tanner, half a bob) - worth six pence
>>Shilling (sl. bob) - worth 12 pence. The second of the basic currency units
>>Florin (or two bob bit)- worth two shillings
>>Half-crown (or half-a-crown) - worth two shillings and sixpence
>>Crown (sl. 5 bob) - worth five shillings
>>Guinea - worth 21 shillings (or 1 pound 1 shilling)
>>
>>Notes were:
>>10 shillings (sl. 10 bob)
>>Pound (sl. quid) - The final basic unit of currency. Worth 20 shillings.
>>5 pounds (fiver)
>>10 pounds (tenner)
>>
>>There were higher denomination notes, but they were very rare.
>>
>adds: there was an older version of the threepenny bit made of silver.
>It was traditionally stuffed into Christmas plum puddings, and the
>finder could make a wish.
Ah. In my day the coin in the pudding was a sixpence.
>The thruppenny bit which replaced it had twelve sides
Yes, that's the one I remember. A brassy colour, as I recall, but it
qualified as a copper.
>There were other names as well: a tanner was also called a joey; a half
>crown was called half a dollar (although I don't recollect ever calling
>a crown a dollar); ten bob was also half a note, half a bar and
>(inexplicably) half a nicker.
Nicker! Of course! Another slang term for a pound, and one that I'd
completely forgotten.
>Eric Partridge says a crown was also a tosheroon or tosher, but I
>remember that being a florin. Or is my memory playing up again?
Now there I can't help you. I have never heard of a tosher before.
>I believe you can also touch the Queen for a little something to tide
>you over until the cheque arrives in the post. It only works if you are
>elderly, respectably dressed and in a church on her birthday, when it's
>called Maundy Money and includes a fourpenny piece. It doesn't work if
>you're a scruffy dosser living on Waterloo embankment.
No, not her Birthday. Maundy Thursday, which is the day before Good Friday
(or something like that). And I believe it *is* legal tender, but since it
is specially minted and an honour to receive, no one ever spends it.
Anyway, we now have an amended list of coins etc.:
Copper coins:
Farthing - worth a quarter of a penny
Halfpenny (or ha'penny: pl. ha'pennies) - half a penny (or two farthings)
Penny (pl. pence, pennies) - one of the 3 basic units of the currency
Silver coins:
Thru'penny bit - worth three pence (later became a "copper")
Fourpenny bit - not in general circulation, only ever part of the Maundy Money
Sixpenny bit (sl. tanner, half a bob, joey) - worth six pence
Shilling (sl. bob) - worth 12 pence. The second of the basic currency units
Florin (or two bob bit, possibly sl. tosher or tosheroon) - worth two shillings
Half-crown (or half-a-crown, sl. half a dollar) -
worth two shillings and sixpence
Crown (sl. 5 bob, possibly tosher or tosheroon, possibly dollar) -
worth five shillings
Gold coins:
Half-sovereign (half a nicker, half a sov, half a bar) - worth ten shillings
Sovereign (Sov, quid, nicker, etc.) - worth one pound.
Notes:
10 shillings (sl. 10 bob, half note, half a nicker)
Pound (sl. quid, nicker) - The final basic unit of currency. Worth 20 shillings.
5 pounds (fiver)
10 pounds (tenner)
Other:
Guinea - worth 21 shillings (1 pound 1 shilling). Never issued as a note. Not
issued as a coin since before Queen Victoria's time. Still used NOW
for calculating professional services.
Don Burden
Ying Pan wrote in message <6kvtlb$2ud$1...@nnrp2.snfc21.pbi.net>...
>I'm just starting to read PG Wodehouse. After reading every Bertie Wooster
>story in my public library in quick succession, I can't remember details in
>any of them. I want to reread them starting with the one where "Lark on
the
>Wing" and something something, features heavily. Can anyone tell me the
>title of that book?
The Oxford Book of English Verse is online at:
http://www.bartleby.com/101/index.html
Searching for something particular is difficult if you don't have the exact
title or author, but you can find many items that crop up often in the
Wodehouse canon here, such as the above Pippa Passes and the Blessed
Damozel thingummy.
--
===========================================
Don Burden donb...@mindspring.REMOVE.com
New Albany, Indiana, USA
===========================================