Diary Of A Nobody, Chapters 19 And 20

Please join me to hear the very latest installment of Mr Charles Pooter's diary, in which he reveals some of the pressures and pretensions of polite society in Victorian London. An unsettling American guest makes an appearance at a friend's dinner party.

Transcript

Hello there,

It's Mandy here again.

Thanks so much for joining me to hear tonight's reading.

It's the latest instalment from The Diary of a Nobody,

A gently comic novel written in 1888 by brothers Charles and Weedon Grossmith.

So please feel free to make yourself really comfortable as we settle down to enjoy this disarmingly honest tale of Victorian life in London as seen through the eyes of Mr Charles Pooter.

Chapter 19.

April the 27th.

Kept a little later than usual at the office and as I was hurrying along a man stopped me saying hello that's a face I know.

I replied politely very likely lots of people know me although I may not know them.

He replied but you do know me Teddy Finsworth and so it was.

He was at the same school as me.

I had not seen him for years and years.

No wonder I didn't know him.

At school he was at least a head taller than I.

Now I'm at least a head taller than him and he has a thick beard almost grey.

He insisted on my having a glass of wine,

A thing I never do,

And told me he lived at Middlesbrough where he was Deputy Town Clerk,

A position which was as high as the Town Clerk of London,

In fact higher.

He added that he was staying for a few days in London with his uncle Mr Edgar Paul Finsworth of Finsworth and Paltwell.

He said he was sure his uncle would be only too pleased to see me and he had a nice house,

Watney Lodge,

Only a few minutes walk from Muswell Hill Station.

I gave him our address and we parted.

In the evening,

To my surprise,

He called with a very nice letter from Mr Finsworth saying that if we,

Including Carrie,

Would dine with them tomorrow,

Sunday,

At two o'clock,

He would be delighted.

Carrie didn't like to go but Teddy Finsworth pressed us so much we consented.

Carrie sent Sarah round to the butcher's and countermanded our half leg of mutton which we had ordered for tomorrow,

April the 28th,

Sunday.

We found Watney Lodge further off than we anticipated and only arrived as the clock struck two,

Both feeling hot and uncomfortable.

To make matters worse,

A large collie dog pounced forward to receive us.

He barked loudly and jumped up at Carrie,

Covering her light skirt,

Which she was wearing for the first time,

With mud.

Teddy Finsworth came out and drove the dog off and apologised.

We were shown into the drawing room which was beautifully decorated.

It was full of knickknacks and some plates hung up on the wall.

There were several little milk stools with paintings on them,

Also a white wooden banjo painted by one of Mr Paul Finsworth's nieces,

A cousin of Teddy's.

Mr Paul Finsworth seemed quite a distinguished looking elderly gentleman and was most gallant to Carrie.

There were a great many watercolours hanging on the walls,

Mostly different views of India,

Which were very bright.

Mr Finsworth said they were painted by simps.

He added that he was no judge of pictures himself but had been informed on good authority that they were worth some hundreds of pounds,

Though he'd only paid a few shillings apiece for them,

Frames included,

At a sale in the neighbourhood.

There was also a large picture in a very handsome frame done in coloured crayons.

It looked like a religious subject.

I was very much struck with the lace collar,

It looked so real,

But I unfortunately made the remark that there was something about the expression of the face that was not quite pleasing.

It looked pinched.

Mr Finsworth sorrowfully replied,

Yes,

The face was done after death,

My wife's sister.

I felt terribly awkward and bowed apologetically and in a whisper said I hoped I had not hurt his feelings.

We both stood looking at the picture for a few moments in silence.

Then Mr Finsworth took out a handkerchief and said,

She was sitting in our garden last summer,

And blew his nose violently.

He seemed quite affected,

So I turned to look at something else and stood in front of a portrait of a jolly looking middle-aged gentleman with a red face and straw hat.

I said to Mr Finsworth,

Who is this jovial looking gentleman?

Life doesn't seem to trouble him much.

And Mr Finsworth said,

No it doesn't,

He is dead too,

My brother.

I was absolutely horrified at my own awkwardness.

Fortunately,

At this moment Carrie entered with Mrs Finsworth,

Who had taken her upstairs to take off her bonnet and brush her skirt.

Teddy said,

Short is late,

But at that moment the gentleman referred to arrived and I was introduced to him by Teddy who said,

Do you know Mr Short?

I replied smiling that I had not that pleasure,

But I hoped it would not be long before I knew Mr Short.

He evidently did not see my little joke,

Although I repeated it twice and with a little laugh.

I suddenly remembered it was Sunday and Mr Short was perhaps very particular.

In this I was mistaken,

For he was not at all particular in several of his remarks after dinner.

In fact,

I was so ashamed of one of his observations that I took the opportunity to say to Mrs Finsworth that I feared she found Mr Short occasionally a little embarrassing.

To my surprise she said,

Oh he is privileged you know.

I didn't know as a matter of fact and so I bowed apologetically.

I failed to see why Mr Short should be privileged.

Another thing that annoyed me at dinner was that the collie dog,

Which jumped up at Carrie,

Was allowed to remain under the dining room table.

It kept growling and snapping up my boots every time I moved my foot.

Feeling rather nervous,

I spoke to Mrs Finsworth about the animal and she remarked,

Oh it is only his play.

She jumped up and let in a frightfully ugly looking spaniel called Bibbs,

Which had been scratching at the door.

This dog also seemed to take a fancy to my boots and I discovered afterwards that it had licked off every bit of blacking from them.

I was positively ashamed of being seen in them.

Mrs Finsworth,

Who I must say is not much of a Job's comforter,

Said,

Oh we are used to Bibbs doing that to our visitors.

Mr Finsworth had some fine port,

Although I question whether it is a good thing to take it on the top of beer.

It made me feel a little sleepy and it had the effect of inducing Mr Short to become privileged to rather an alarming extent.

It being cold,

Even for April,

There was a fire in the drawing room.

We sat round in easy chairs and Teddy and I waxed rather eloquent over the old school days,

Which had the effect of sending all the others to sleep.

I was delighted as far as Mr Short was concerned that it did have that effect on him.

We stayed till four and the walk home was remarkable only for the fact that several fools giggled at the unpolished state of my boots.

Polished them myself when I got home.

Went to church in the evening and could scarcely keep awake.

I will not take port on top of beer again.

April the 29th.

I am getting quite accustomed to being snubbed by Lupin and I do not mind being sat upon by Carrie because I think she has a certain amount of right to do so,

But I do think it is hard to be at once snubbed by wife,

Son and both my guests.

Gary and Cummings had dropped in during the evening and I suddenly remembered an extraordinary dream I'd had a few nights ago and I thought I would tell them about it.

I dreamt I saw some huge blocks of ice in a shop with a bright glare behind them.

I walked into the shop and the heat was overpowering.

I found that the blocks of ice were on fire.

The whole thing was so real and yet so supernatural I woke up in a cold perspiration.

Lupin in a most contemptuous manner said,

What hot and rot?

Before I could reply,

Garing said there was nothing so completely uninteresting as other people's dreams.

I appealed to Cummings but he said he was bound to agree with the others and my dream was especially nonsensical.

I said,

But it seemed so real to me.

Garing replied,

Then yes to you perhaps but not to us.

Whereupon they all roared.

Gary who had hitherto been quiet said,

He tells me his stupid dreams every morning nearly.

I replied,

Very well dear I promise you I will never tell you or anybody else another dream of mine the longest day I live.

Lupin said,

Here,

Here and helped himself to another glass of beer.

The subject was fortunately changed and Cummings read a most interesting article on the superiority of the bicycle to the horse.

Chapter 20.

May the 10th.

Received a letter from Mr.

Franching of Peckham asking us to dine with him tonight at seven o'clock to meet Mr.

Hardfur Huttle,

A very clever writer for the American papers.

Franching apologised for the short notice but said he had at the last moment been disappointed of two of his guests and regarded us as old friends who would not mind filling up the gap.

Carrie rather demurred at the invitation but I explained to her that Franching was very well off and influential and we couldn't afford to offend him and we are sure to get a good dinner and a good glass of champagne.

Which never agrees with you,

Carrie replied sharply.

I regarded Carrie's observation as unsaid.

Mr.

Franching asked us to wrire a reply.

As he had said nothing about dress in the letter,

I wired back,

With pleasure,

Is it full dress and by leaving out our name just got the message within the sixpence.

Got back early to give time to dress which we received a telegram instructing us to do.

I wanted Carrie to meet me at Franching's house but she wouldn't do so so I had to go home to fetch her.

What a long journey it is from Holloway to Peckham.

Why do people live such a long way off?

Having to change buses I allowed plenty of time,

In fact too much,

For we arrived at twenty minutes to seven and Franching,

So the servant said,

Had only just gone up to dress.

However he was down as the clock struck seven he must have dressed very quickly.

I must say it was quite a distinguished party and although he didn't know anybody personally they all seemed to be quite swells.

Franching had got a professional waiter and evidently spared no expense.

There were flowers on the table round some fairy lumps and the effect I must say was exquisite.

The wine was good and there was plenty of champagne concerning which Franching said he himself never wished to taste better.

We were ten in number and a menu card to each.

One lady said she always preserved the menu and got the guests to write their names on the back.

We all of us followed her example except Mr Huttle who was of course the important guest.

The dinner party consisted of Mr Franching,

Mr Hardfur Huttle,

Mr and Mrs Samuel Hillbutter,

Mrs Field,

Mr and Mrs Purdick,

Mr Pratt,

Mr R Kent and last but not least Mr and Mrs Charles Pooter.

Franching said he was sorry he had no lady for me to take in to dinner.

I replied that I preferred it which I afterwards thought was a very uncomplimentary observation to make.

I sat next to Mrs Field at dinner.

She seemed a well-informed lady but was very deaf.

It didn't much matter for Mr Hardfur Huttle did all the talking.

He is a marvelously intellectual man and says things which from other people would seem quite alarming.

How I wish I could remember even a quarter of his brilliant conversation.

I made a few little reminding notes on the menu card.

One observation struck me as being absolutely powerful though not to my way of thinking of course.

Mrs Purdick happened to say you were certainly unorthodox Mr Huttle.

Mr Huttle with a peculiar expression,

I can see it now,

Said in a slow rich voice,

Mrs Purdick orthodox is a grandiloquent word implying sticking in the mud.

If Columbus and Stevenson had been orthodox there would neither have been the discovery of America nor the steam engine.

There was quite a silence.

It appeared to me that such teaching was absolutely dangerous and yet I felt,

In fact we must all have felt,

There was no answer to his argument.

A little later on Mrs Purdick,

Who is Fran Ching's sister and also acted as hostess,

Rose from the table and Mr Huttle said,

Why ladies do you deprive us of your company so soon?

Why not wait while we have our cigars?

The effect was electrical.

The ladies,

Including Carrie,

Were in no way inclined to be deprived of Mr Huttle's fascinating society and immediately resumed their seats amid much laughter and a little chaff.

Mr Huttle said,

Well that's a real good sign.

You shall not be insulted by being called orthodox any longer.

Mrs Purdick,

Who seemed to be a bright and rather sharp woman,

Said,

Mr Huttle we will meet you halfway,

That is till you get halfway through your cigar.

That at all events will be the happy medium.

I shall never forget the effect the words happy medium had upon him.

He was brilliant and most daring in his interpretation of the words.

He positively alarmed me.

He said something like the following,

Happy medium indeed.

Do you know happy medium are two words which mean miserable mediocrity?

I say go first class or third,

Marry a duchess or her kitchen maid.

The happy medium means respectability and respectability means insipidness,

Does it not Mr Pooter?

I was so taken aback by being personally appealed to that I could only bow apologetically and say I feared I was not competent to offer an opinion.

Carrie was about to say something but she was interrupted for which I was rather pleased for she is not clever at argument and one has to be extra clever to discuss a subject with a man like Mr Huttle.

He continued with an amazing eloquence that made his unwelcome opinions positively convincing.

The happy medium is nothing more or less than a vulgar measure.

A man who loves champagne and finding a pint too little,

Fears to face a whole bottle and has recourse to an imperial pint will never build the Brooklyn Bridge or an Eiffel Tower.

No,

He is half-hearted.

He is a half measure,

Respectable.

In fact he is a happy medium and will spend the rest of his days in a suburban villa with a stucco column portico resembling a four-post bedstead.

We all laughed.

That sort of thing,

Continued Mr Huttle,

Belongs to a soft man with a soft beard and a soft head with a maid tie that hooks on.

This seemed rather personal.

Twice I caught myself looking in the glass of the chiffonniere for I had on a tie that hooked on and why not?

If these remarks were not personal,

They were rather careless and so were some of his subsequent observations which must have made both Mr Franching and his guests rather uncomfortable.

I don't think Mr Huttle meant to be personal for he added,

We don't know that class here in this country but we do in America and I've no use for them.

Franching several times suggested that the wine should be passed round the table which Mr Huttle did not heed but continued as if he were giving a lecture.

What we want in America is your homes.

We live on wheels.

Your simple quiet life and home,

Mr Franching,

Are charming.

No display,

No pretension.

You make no difference in your dinner,

I dare say,

When you sit down by yourself and when you invite us.

You have your own personal attendant,

No hired waiter to breathe on the back of your head.

I saw Franching palpably wince at this.

Mr Huttle continued,

Just a small dinner with a few good things such as you have this evening.

You don't insult your guests by sending to the grocer for champagne at six shillings a bottle.

I couldn't help thinking of Jacques Solfrare at three and six.

In fact,

Went on Mr Huttle,

A man is little less than a murderer who does.

That is the province of the milk sop who wastes his evening at home playing dominoes with his wife.

I've heard of these people.

We don't want them at this table.

Our party is well selected with no use for deaf old women who cannot follow intellectual conversation.

All our eyes were turned to Mrs Field,

Who fortunately,

Being deaf,

Did not hear his remarks,

But continued smiling approval.

We have no representative at Mr Franching's table,

Said Mr Huttle,

Of the unenlightened frivolous matron who goes to a second class dance at Bayswater and fancies she is in society.

Society does not know her.

It has no use for her.

Mr Huttle paused for a moment and the opportunity was afforded for the ladies to rise.

I asked Mr Franching quietly to excuse me as I didn't wish to miss the last train,

Which we very nearly did,

By the by,

Though Carrie mislaid the little cloth cricket cap which she wears when we go out.

It was very late when Carrie and I got home,

But on entering the sitting room,

I said,

Carrie,

What do you think of Mr Hartford Huttle?

She simply answered,

How like Lupin he is.

The same idea had occurred to me in the train.

The comparison kept me awake half the night.

Mr Huttle was,

Of course,

An older and more influential man,

But he was like Lupin and it made me think how dangerous Lupin would be if he were older and more influential.

I feel proud to think Lupin does resemble Mr Huttle in some ways.

Lupin,

Like Mr Huttle,

Has original and sometimes wonderful ideas,

But it is those very ideas that are so dangerous.

They make men extremely rich or extremely poor.

They make or break men.

I always feel people are happier who live a simple,

Unsophisticated life.

I believe I am happy because I am not ambitious.

Somehow I feel that Lupin,

Since he has been with Mr Perkupp,

Has become content to settle down and follow the footsteps of his father.

This is a

Reviews

Got me to sleep! Delightful (and stodgy) wankers they are…