I'm very proud that this website now offers more free content than at any time in our eighteen-year history. But we also provide some premium content especially for those who've signed up to be Mark Steyn Club members, and I'm delighted to say Tales for Our Time has become one of our most popular features over the last three-and-a-half years - and that this latest audio adventure is likewise proving popular.
And, on that note, welcome to Part Fifteen of a rather unusual P G Wodehouse caper, in which an upper-class English chappie takes on the slum landlords of the New York tenements. In tonight's episode of Psmith, Journalist, Psmith's pal Mike returns, and can't understand, what with all the bullets and blackjacks, why his chum doesn't simply go to the constabulary. I'd planned this story as a bit of 2020 escapism, but, if you live in one of those cities where 911 no longer seems to be in service, this passage may ring somewhat topical:
"But, man," said Mike, when he had finished "why on earth don't you call in the police?"
"We have mentioned the matter to certain of the force. They appeared tolerably interested, but showed no tendency to leap excitedly to our assistance. The New York policeman, Comrade Jackson, like all great men, is somewhat peculiar. If you go to a New York policeman and exhibit a black eye, he will examine it and express some admiration for the abilities of the citizen responsible for the same. If you press the matter, he becomes bored, and says, 'Ain't youse satisfied with what youse got? G'wan!' His advice in such cases is good, and should be followed. No; since coming to this city I have developed a habit of taking care of myself, or employing private help."
Members of The Mark Steyn Club can hear me read Part Fifteen of Psmith, Journalist simply by clicking here and logging-in. Earlier episodes can be found here.
Thank you for all your kind comments about this tale. I regret that Colorado Steyn Clubber Paul Cathey did not like the cut of my Latin jib in Thursday's episode:
'Solwitur ambulando!'
I see, Mark, that you belong to that 'modern' school of Latin that pronounces the 'v' as the English-speaking world does the 'w.' I confess that the evidence has brought me around on this point, but having acceded, I can only imagine that Caesar's conquests were brought about by the Gauls and Britons laughing themselves helplessly into submission as he shouted 'Waney, Weedy, Weeky' at them.
I'm reasonably confident, Paul, that that's how Wodehouse would have said it. I started Latin at seven and it was only some years later that a new, young and "modern" teacher attempted to replace our very time-worn textbooks with some modish, gaily colored pamphlets asserting that "v" should be pronounced "v". My classmates and I declined to do so because we thought it made Latin sound too Italian.
Beyond that, I never gave the matter much thought - other than the obvious point that "u" and "v" are both written the same in Latin, and it seems reasonable to assume they are related sounds, as indeed their equivalent letters in English suggest: "u" and "double-u". I have dim recollections of the Cicero passage in which the chap selling figs down at the harbor cries "Cauneas! Cauneas!" - as in "Gitcha Caunean figs right here!" And this is read as a warning to Marcus Crassus not to load his army on to the warships: "Cave ne eas" - ie, beware of leaving.
Obviously, this play on words doesn't works if the "v" in "cave" is pronounced "vee".
Maybe we should have a Classics Corner at SteynOnline. The way things are going on Facebook and Twitter the only way we'll sneak past the thought-police will be to speak in Latin or Greek puns.
"Veni, vidi, vici" I attribute to Latin phrases that become familiar in English and gradually anglicize themselves, like "vice-versa" or "verbatim".
If you've a friend who's a fan of classic (mostly English) literature and you want to give him or her a Christmas present with a difference, we hope you'll consider a one-year gift membership in The Mark Steyn Club. The lucky recipient will enjoy full access to our back catalogue of audio adventures and video poems - Conrad and Conan Doyle, Kipling and Kafka, and all the rest - which should keep you going until both the virus and the violence peter out, or at least until the Year Zero crowd has had all the books banned. For more details, see here.
Through lockdown and 'lections, our nightly audio adventure goes on, so do join me back here tomorrow for Psmith, Journalist Part Sixteen.
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Sorry, Mark, my comment was intended to be humorous, and I do accept the "u" pronunciation because, as you laid out beautifully, the linguistic evidence is absolutely convincing. I had in mind the hilarious passage in Goodbye, Mr. Chips by James Hilton, where Chips is being upbraided by the headmaster[?] about his recalcitrance over the "new" pronunciation:
"... This question of Latin pronunciation, for instance–I think I told you years ago that I wanted the new style used throughout the School. The other masters obeyed me; you prefer to stick to your old methods, and the result is simply chaos and inefficiency."
At last Chips had something tangible that he could tackle. "Oh, that!" he answered scornfully. "Well, I–umph–I admit that I don't agree with the new pronunciation. I never did. Umph–a lot of nonsense, in my opinion. Making boys say 'Kickero' at school when–umph–for the rest of their lives they'll say 'Cicero'–if they ever–umph–say it at all. And instead of 'vicissim'–God bless my soul–you'd make them say, 'We kiss'im'! Umph–umph!"
In any case, the cut of your jib, as well as the cut of your jibes, led me to cast my lot with the "bright fellowship" of the Mark Steyn Club, and I am blessed by it every day.
Incidentally, I don't suppose another literary venture, "Tales of a Lost Time," could be added with "Goodbye, Mr. Chips" as its first entry?
That reminds that the BBC TV series "I Claudius" had a title sequence with "I CLAVDIVS" in marble (well, it looked like marble). Many of us started calling him Clavdivs.
How about Winnie the Pooh in latin for Tales for our Time or the Classics Corner - Winnie Ille Pu.
Hi Mark. Perhaps a "Classics Comedy Corner" as well? As a student of Latin at age seven, I bet that Canadian comedians Wayne & Shuster's 1954 skit, "Rinse the Blood off My Toga," had you & your classmates in stitches:
Cicero the Bartender: What're you drinking?
Flavius: Gimme a martinus.
Cicero: You mean a martini.
Flavius: If I wanted two I'd ask for them.
Time to resurrect "Fun with Declensions" as comedy gold?
A Classics Corner at Steyn on Line: wonderful idea!
Actually, Mark, your remark on getting past the thought police by speaking in Latin and Greek puns recalls one of Enoch's blunders.
His famous speech, which can be read as an MP actually paying attention to his constituents, is now mainly remembered for the "rivers of blood" bit, a translation/paraphrase of Virgil.
If ONLY he'd cited Virgil's original Latin ....
Catching up on these episodes I notice you read the N-Word as a nickname for one of the gang members. Good thing you are not a prof at the University of Ottawa where a part-time lecturer was denounced by two black Mohammeds for making them feel 'unsafe'. Amazingly 34 profs signed a letter supporting the prof and the president of the university initially supported freedom of speech. But then students were offered the chance of changing professors and the professor apologized. Wodehouse would be muzzled for sure!
If my patronage contributes to free content, I am delighted beyond words. As a corollary to putting your money where your mouth is, I would say supporting those who would spread the "good news" to the hungry and thirsty is among the best discretionary spends...ever. You keep doing what you do and I'll keep paying for it. You turn into Bill Kristol, George Will or Rick Wilson and I'll drop you like a prom date that vomited the chicken cordon bleu after one too many Kamikazes. So proud to be a Charter Member, tempted to put it on my business card.
Mark replies:
Thank you, Steven. The grim scenario in which I metamorphose into Bill Wilson-Will I shall leave for next year's Halloween horror story.
Steven, like your idea about the business card credential, although I'm afraid I joined too late to qualify for charter membership.
Despite having been a very poor classical scholar at school and university, may I have the temerity to weigh in on the pronunciation issue?
"Psmith Journalist" was first serialised in 1909-10, and it portrays Psmith and Mike as having just finished first year university - so being at most two years out of school, allowing for the events of "Psmith in the City".
In "Goodbye Mr Chips" the austerely practical headmaster Ralston is shown berating Chips, in 1908, for not using "the new pronunciation" (i.e. at that time "new" being pronouncing "v" as "w") in his classes after having been told by Ralston "years ago" to do so.
So near-contemporary evidence suggests that, since Psmith and Mike went to Sedleigh, not Brookfield under Mr Chips' tuition, they may well have been taught to say "solwitur".
Excellent, Tim!