The Great Dictator

From Sebastian Faulks’s reflections on Jeeves:

It is the exact balance of the sweetness of revenge for Jeeves and the vast relief that Bertie feels that makes the endings of the novels so satisfactory.

The point is that this happy world must not change. Bachelorhood for Bertie is the deal-breaker for Jeeves, but there are other elements of Jeeves’s enchanted world that he must fight to preserve. There are rules; they may seem trivial, but not to him: someone must ensure that it all remains the same, and the task falls to Jeeves. A gentleman’s trouser bottoms should “shimmer, not break” on the instep of his shoe, according to Jeeves. To wear a made-up bow tie is obviously the mark of a bounder; but did you know that only a Pierrot or Sinbad costume is considered acceptable at a fancy-dress party?

When I was a child I imagined there existed a book of all such rules; and I think that Jeeves perhaps believes so, too – though even putting such sacred things in print might, in Jeeves’s eyes, devalue them.

This won’t quite do. Or rather there are other things to consider. In the first instance, Faulks is not quite correct re: fancy-dress parties. It is Jeeves who recommends Gussie Fink-Nottle attend such an occasion dressed as Mephistopheles. From this single suggestion flows all the drama and chaos of Right Ho, Jeeves. Plot considerations may demand it, but the fact remains that letting Gussie Fink-Nottle loose upon London dressed in red tights and sporting a false beard is tantamount to giving Disaster the seat of honour at the feast. Furthermore, it’s a reminder that not all of Jeeves’ wheezes hit the bullseye. Indeed, many of them are more complicated than seems sensible, especially given the quality of the men entrusted with putting them into action.

Worse, Jeeves is a control freak and, like the rest of that ilk, prone to making up the law as he goes along. In the right circumstances there’s little wrong with a white mess jacket. Nor are purple socks shameful and his prejudice against the banjolele is simply unbecoming. Whimsy is not a word one associates with Jeeves, but there is an arbitrariness to Jeeves’ ex cathedra pronouncements that does him little credit.

It’s true that Jeeves is often needed to prevent Bertram Wooster making an unsuitable match with the Bassett or the Glossop or the Craye but one can’t quite shed the suspicion that were Bertie ever to become affianced to the right kind of girl, with whom he was actually properly in love and well-suited, Jeeves would find a way to ensure that the happy match never took place either. In addition to being something of a cold, rum fish he is something of a dictator too. And Bertie is his prisoner.

None of this detracts from the splendour of the stories, nor does it sully one’s enjoyment of them. In any case, it’s only occasionally that one feels like this. Most of the time the chap seems a marvel. But even Wodehouse’s idyllic world has, or is open to, darker interpretation (a Marxist reading is perfectly feasible, for instance) and there are moments when one feels Jeeves overdoes it and that, dash it, the fellow could, just for once, lighten up a bit.

Then again, there is the consolation of small mercies. To see what could become of Jeeves were he ever to turn to the Dark Side one need only consider the career and character of the Efficient Rupert Baxter. In some ways Baxter is Jeeves-Turned-Bad. He too has a “busy brain” and is relentlessly efficient. If Jeeves is a White Knight, Baxter is the Black one. Baxter, alas, also has a penchant for going rogue and we, as well as Bertie, should be grateful that Jeeves, even in his more precious or dictatorial moments, never quite succumbs to that temptation.