Tag Archives: Blandings Castle

‘Blandings Castle’ by P. G. Wodehouse

Lord Emsworth finished his port and got up. He felt restless, stifled. The summer night seemed to call to him like some silver-voiced swineherd calling to his pig….

And suddenly, as it died, another, softer sound succeeded it. A sort of gurgly, plobby, squishy, wofflesome sound, like a thousand eager men drinking soup in a foreign restaurant.

The nuts and bolts of P. G. Wodehouse’s short story collection, Blandings Castle, are easily covered. This is a compilation of several early Blandings Castle stories, featuring Clarence, Lord Emsworth, followed by a few odds-and-ends stories, and finally a few of the Mulliner stories, in which Mr. Mulliner tells a group of pub friends stories about his various relations – in this case, relations who lived and worked in Hollywood (as Wodehouse himself did for a time).

I won’t describe most of the stories. They are what you expect, and they are delightful.

Instead, I want to indulge in a few theological observations, because that (oddly) is where my thoughts went as I read.

The Great Divide in Wodehouse is drawn, of course, between the Jeeves stories and all the rest. What I began to wonder about as I read is the fact that – although they both operate in the same fictional universe (there are even stories where characters cross over), they seem to nevertheless operate in different theological universes.

The Jeeves stories, it seems to me, take place in a fallen universe. There is “evil” (admittedly rather silly evil) in the Jeeves stories, and poor Bertie Wooster would come to ruin (usually an unhappy marriage) without Jeeves there to rescue him. Jeeves shares the first two letters of his name with Jesus. He is a very present help in trouble. Although infinitely higher and more intelligent than Bertie, Jeeves has emptied himself, taking on the form of a servant. On him depends all the innocence of Bertie’s fictional life.

The Blandings Castle stories, on the other hand, seem to be set in an unfallen world. “Evil” of the same kind as in the Jeeves stories does indeed arise, but it always resolves itself without any heroic intervention. There seems to be a natural balance in this world, and the proper order reasserts itself automatically.

It occurs to me that this may be some kind of unfallen world. Perhaps Eden was like this, and Heaven will be again. Problems arise, but the natural order reasserts itself.

(I do not, I hope you understand, imagine that Wodehouse had these concepts in mind. I don’t even know what – if anything – he believed. I just think that his genius, like all great genius, drew on Eternal Things.)

I might also mention (honorably) one of the miscellaneous stories, neither a Blandings nor a Mulliner: “Elsewhere, a Bobbie Wickham Story.” This one was a gem.

Bobbie Wickham is a familiar character from the Jeeves stories – she was even engaged to Bertie on at least one occasion. Like all Wodehouse girls, she’s smarter than any of his young men, stubborn, self-willed and sweetly ruthless. Here we see her at her best; like Bertie she is being coerced into a marriage she does not wish, so she sets about manipulating the males around her. If you’re familiar with H. H. Munro (Saki), you probably remember the story, “The Open Window.” The girl there whose speciality was “romance at short notice” was a forerunner to Bobbie Wickham. Wonderful story.

In summary, this is a delightful collection of delightful stories which can only do good in the world.

Something New, by P.G. Wodehouse

In a 1948 letter, Wodehouse said he liked his Blandings Castle stories over his others because his character Lord Emsworth is his favorite. The dottering old earl, more content weeding in his garden than doing anything else, is introduced in the novel Something New (later published in the U.K. as Something Fresh (the two books are not exactly the same)), Wodehouse’s first story about the quirky folk of Blandings Castle.

The story gives us the young man Ashe Marson, a writer of monthly juvenile detective adventure novels, being challenged by a beautiful, new acquaintance to take his life in his own hands and try something new. This beauty, Joan Valentine, soon discovers that the Honorable Freddie Treepwood, reprobate son of the Earl of Emsworth, was once terribly in the love with her and would rather that part of his life never see the light of day. The reason is Freddie has proposed to Aline Peters, daughter of American millionaire J.P. Peters, who moved into a home near Blandings several months ago. (Mr. Peters is said to be “suffering from that form of paranoia which makes men multimillionaires.”) Aline intends to marry Freddie, perhaps more to please her father than herself, but she hasn’t given herself much time to think about it. Her father, Mr. Peters, is an Ancient Egyptian scarab enthusiast. When he decides to gush about them to the absent-minded Lord Emsworth, trouble broods.

I laugh easily with Wodehouse’s wonderful stories. The first time I got a head of steam behind my laughing was before the scarab-enthusing incident when Lord Emsworth visits the Senior Conservative Club in London. Here he demonstrates his lack of lucidity with the steward Adams, who attends the Earl professionally while soaking in his many utterances and expressions for imitation among friends later that evening. Adams has developed a reputation as a humorist, imitating the members of the Senior Conservative Club.

The next time I remember rolling along, like one of Adams’ friends, was in a very satisfying scene in Blandings Castle toward the end. It’s something of a climax, so I can’t reveal it for you, but I love when Wodehouse brings his characters together in ways that you may see coming for several pages and still cracks you up when it happens. Often such scenes begin with what you see coming and carry on with what you don’t.

Lord Emsworth doesn’t play much of a role in this character-rich story, but it’s still a great introduction to him. Wodehouse tells us, “His was a life that lacked, perhaps, the sublime emotions which raise man to the level of the gods; but undeniably it was an extremely happy one. He never experienced the thrill of ambition fulfilled; but, on the other hand, he never knew the agony of ambition frustrated.”

Contentment, thy name is Emsworth.