Jeeves and W--Percy.

Since my mind has been gamboling 'round Wodehouse lately, and since it never strays far from thinking about The Scarlet Pimpernel at any time, I recently recalled a very intriguing post one of the sharp-eyed Leaguettes of The Day Dream had written up concerning P.G. Wodehouse mentioning The Scarlet Pimpernel and even spoofing it in one of his own novels. This post I have copied down in hopes that you will give them all the credit, pop over to their blog to look at the rest of their genius, and enjoy this sighting of Sir Percy smack-dab in the center of Jeeves.

From Sink Me! A period-drama nonsense blog--must read.

“And with the graceful gesture of an accomplished dandy, Sir Percy flicked off a grain of a dust from his immaculate Mechlin ruffles.” (-I Will Repay by Baroness Orczy)

“Sir Percy Blakeney- a prisoner since seventeen days in close, solitary confinement, half-starved, deprived of rest, and of that mental and physical activity which had been the very essence of life to him hitherto- might be outwardly but a shadow of his former brilliant self, but nevertheless he was still that same elegant English gentleman, that prince of dandies whom Chauvelin had first met eighteen months ago at the most courtly Court in Europe.  His clothes, despite constant wear and the want of attention from a scrupulous valet, still betrayed the perfection of London tailoring; he had put them on with meticulous care, they were free from the slightest particle of dust, and the flimy folds of priceless Mechlin still half-veiled the delicate whiteness of his shapely hands.”  (-El Dorado by Baroness Orczy)

“I remember reading in one of those historical novels once about a chap -a buck he would have been, no doubt, or a macaroni or some such bird as that- who, when people said the wrong thing, merely laughed down from lazy eyelids and flicked a speak of dust from the irreproachable Mechlin lace at his wrists.  This was practically what I did now.  At least, I straightened my tie and smiled one of those inscrutable smiles of mine.  I then withdrew and went out for a saunter in the garden.”  (-Right Ho, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse)

“I know you did, Jeeves,”  I said, laughing down from lazy eyelids and nicking a speck of dust from the irreproachable Mechlin lace at my wrists."  (-ibid.)

"Psmith flicked a speck of dust from his coat sleeve."  (Mike and Psmith by P.G. Wodehouse)

What more is there to say?

(And I, Rachel, say that if I have to say something more it shall only be that you ought to read something of Wodehouse. Please do. It just about takes the giddy biscuit and that's no fib.)