Man About Mayfair

Retirement for Man About Mayfair

2007-08-29T22:31:00.001+01:00

Sir Basil Seal, 14th Baronet of Beauchamp-Cholmondeley of St. Jennifer
(Pronounced Beechum - Chumley)

Man About Mayfair R.I.P.

Well, over my holiday I gave some thought to blogs and blogging in an effort to decide if I wanted to continue, or fade gracefully into retirement. A part of me enjoys the blog and has wonderful fun messing about with it, but another part, hovering in the back of my mind, finds it all so silly and childish...Of course, then I remember that I am silly and childish, so there you go...I also have been writing the blog, in fits and starts, for four or five years now, and if the truth be told, I'm running out of things to talk about, so I need to spread them out a bit more.

I have been working diligently to weed out the readers here, in order to get down to that very discriminating and elite few. I think that I have been somewhat successful, if those blog stats things mean anything. So, I wanted to let the elite know that although Man About Mayfair is being retired, Sir Basil will still be working full time for Mr. and Mrs. P over at PP. I just realized that that's a lot of Ps...Anyway you must all go there faithfully each day with high hopes of hearing from me, Sir Basil Seal. Mrs. P does such a wonderful job of running a blog, and because it bores me to tears to do so, I think it best to let her handle that end of it, and I will just try to come up with as much asinine drivel as I can, and be a complete and utter snob there, instead of here.

So this is really not goodbye, just a see you later somewhere else...Thanks to everyone who has stopped by and left rude comments. I am sure they were deserved. And don't forget to visit me at my new home, Patum Peperium...Visit daily, hourly, just make it your homepage. I will see you there. And address all rude comments to Mrs. P, she's used to it. Thank you.

Sir Basil Seal

Sharp claws, warm heart...

2007-08-24T00:29:00.000+01:00

Elizabeth Taylor (1912-1975)
English Novelist

While Mrs. P was going on about excellent women and things of that nature, it brought to my mind Elizabeth Taylor. No, no, the other one, the novelist. Never heard of her? Well, that's not surprising, Benjamin Schwarz writes that "she is best known for not being better known". Part of the group of mid-20th-century women fiction writers like Rose Macaulay, Ivy Compton-Burnett, Sylvia Townsend Warner, Rosamond Lehmann and Barbara Pym, to name a few, who dealt with the domestic lives of middle and upper-middle-class women. She is considered to be one of the hidden treasures of the English novel. Her shrewd but affectionate portrayals of middle-class English life won her a discriminating audience but she never quite got the recognition she deserved during her lifetime. Noted for her precise use of language and scrupulously understated style, her enthusiasts have been as tireless as they have been unsuccessful in securing for her what Kingsley Amis called "her due as one of the best English novelists born in this century".

Like Austen, to whom she is most often compared, Taylor led a very tame and parochial life. She eschewed publicity and the London literary scene and, of course, her name obviously didn't help. She was the epitome of the upper-middle-class-housewife novelist. Of course, what she wrote about became terribly out of fashion during the time she wrote it, not exactly the stuff of the Angry Young Men. Elizabeth Jane Howard hailed her as one of the 20th century's most unfairly underread and underappreciated authors. But no one seems to have been able to influence whoever or whatever it is that decides who gets canonized and who doesn't.

But, as luck would have it, some of her books are still in print, courtesy of the UK publishing house Virago. If excellent women are your thing, there are none more excellent than she. As Mr. Schwarz notes: "...with her cool style, flexible and sharp-edged, she shunned sentimentality; her assessments were disconcertingly no-nonsense..." She had, as Angus Wilson said, "sharp claws" but a "warm heart". Look into it, when you find the time.

Happy Birthday Mr. Cuppy

2007-08-23T21:11:00.000+01:00

Will Cuppy (August 23,1884-September 19,1949)
American Humorist

The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody, one of the funniest books ever written, was penned by Will Cuppy. The fact that he is virtually unknown today goes to show how messed up today is. From Indiana and a graduate of the University of Chicago, Cuppy was a staple of the New Yorker during the 30s and 40s, and wrote his weekly column "Light Reading" for the New York Herald Tribune for 23 years. A wonderfully funny writer, he should be more well known, and of course more often read. Thankfully most of his books are still in print and available. Get some today. Happy Birthday Will Cuppy...

Books
- (1951) How to Get from January to December, New York: Holt. Edited by Fred Feldkamp. Illustrations by John Ruge.
- (1950) The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody, New York: Holt. Edited by Fred Feldkamp. Illustrations by William Steig.
- (1949) How to Attract the Wombat, New York: Rinehart.
- (1944) The Great Bustard and Other People (containing How to Tell Your Friends from the Apes and How to Become Extinct), New York : Murray Hill Books.
- (1941) How to Become Extinct, New York: Farrar and Rinehart. Illustrations by William Steig.
- (1931) How to Tell Your Friends from the Apes, New York: Horace Liveright, Inc. Introduction by P. G. Wodehouse. Illustrations by "Jacks."
- (1929) How to Be a Hermit, New York: Horace Liveright.
- (1910) Maroon Tales, Chicago: Forbes & Co..
Books, edited
- (1946) Murder Without Tears: An Anthology of Crime, New York: Sheridan House.
- (1943) World's Great Detective Stories: American and English Masterpieces, New York, Cleveland: World.
- (1943) World's Great Mystery Stories: American and English Masterpieces, New York, Cleveland: World.

As someone famous once said: I'm back...

2007-08-23T00:45:00.001+01:00

Yes, I am back, and though not necessarily with bells on, back none the less. I had a delightful summer holiday in Blighty and on the continent, and I am in the process of unpacking books and generally getting settled back into life in these, less than united states...I have much scribbled in my trusty Moleskine, which I am waiting, wanting and willing to tell you...So, if you are the patient sort, meaning at least over sixty, I will be with you in a moment. For the rest, you'll have to continue playing with your bean pod, or whatever it is...I will have some things for you all presently, and I will send some of the more highly polished (meaning naughty) ones over to Mrs. P...Oh, the fun we'll have now that I'm here...Until then...

Sir Basil Seal

Speaking with Sir Basil Seal

2007-06-15T12:25:00.000+01:00

Of late I have been in Dublin doing a series of interviews with the delightful Miss Nolagirl. Am having an enjoyable time, although sitting comfortably now seems to be a problem. Anyway, you can read the transcripts here...

Miss Nolagirl, I will be back in Dublin later in the summer. I will be staying at the Merrion and will meet you in St. Stephen's Green by the Wolf Tone statue. You'll know me, I'll be the one with the hat. Maybe we can catch Mass at the Pro-Cathedral? Until then...

Moving, sort of...

2007-05-21T19:00:00.001+01:00

I have been invited by the editor of a famous web zine to write a column on pretty much anything I want. Don't ask me why, I have no idea...Pity, I suppose. Nice work if you can get it. Therefore, since I am now a famous person, I have no time for the likes of you...I invite my 2.5 readers to follow me to Patum Peperium to read me and a highly select group of other columnists as well...So, please catch Sir Basil Seal over at his new home and please do not loiter about here while I'm away.

Waiting upon the Queen...

2007-05-04T08:51:00.000+01:00

I have been called upon to wait upon my Queen while she and the Prince Consort visit this ghastly country. As you may be aware, they are in the Commonwealth of Virginia, where it seems gunfire may be directed in her direction at anytime, if the habits of the locals are any indication. Seeing that there would be little chance of any locals actually helping or fighting back, other than possibly sending Her Majesty an email, she felt it prudent to call upon her Knights of the Realm and other assorted noblemen to provide support and be prepared to return fire. The Queen will be visiting Jamestown where she will be shown the myriad ways that her subjects oppressed, and otherwise hurt the feelings of, the naked savages they found loitering about the place and the African slaves they brought along with them. We, of course, could not give a rip, seeing that oppression has always been a real Englishman's business. Lucky for you that there are only about five of us left. But I'll bet we could still oppress you if we could find a good tailor in this Godforsaken place...If one must oppress, then one should always do so in style...Anyway, that is why I have been away, and am still away...After seeing Her Majesty safely back to Albion, I will return to whatever it was I was talking about before. Thank you.

Sir Basil Seal

Visit Sir Basil Seal...

2007-04-20T05:03:00.000+01:00

As you are well aware, last weekend there was a flying party going on at the House of Seal...Along with Mr. and Mrs. P we were graced with the presence of The Fiendish One of NYC and the good Padre came in for the fun. The Countess was our hostess for the weekend and the Baron played Uncle Fred to Maggie and Thomas...Mr. and Mrs. P are now searching desperately for a good child therapist to correct some new behaviours picked up from the Baron...We had many adventures over the weekend; we had a dinner and dance at the Club, a Garden Party, shooting, golf and actually got some flying in...We dealt with the Midwestern Catholic Women's Padre M. Admiration Society (Co-chaired by the Countess and Mrs. P) all weekend, helped The Fiendish One with Concrete Withdrawal, toured the closet of Sir Basil Seal, tripped the light fantastic with the young women of St. Euphemia of the Five Wounds, dealt with the case of the "dirty books", conducted hit-and-run raids against the kraut eating relatives of the Countess and someone (no names, yet) left vomitus maximus in my aircraft during an Immelmann...And much, much more...Stay tuned, if you will...

Hello Nick...

2007-04-19T22:50:00.000+01:00

Did you ever see The Thin Man series? In it, Nick Charles marries a very wealthy woman and spends his time thereafter looking after her business interests...Well, I am in that exact situation, minus the sleuthing parts of course...As of late, there has been a flurry of buying and selling which has required me to actually go to the office. I am not happy...Anyway, I have not forgotten my series on our Flying Party...It is in the works and will be out soon in serial form...So, keep checking in...

Things at knee level...

2007-04-17T22:47:00.000+01:00

I am recovering from my weekend revel, and am busy preparing my manuscript which details the goings-on at Castle Seal and environs...While you wait, and it won't be too long, read about Sir Basil and Mr. P...Quite diaphanous reading...

By the way, a while back I attended the 3rd Birthday Bash for the Hatemonger's Quarterly...(Yes, I was invited) While there, I noticed that there was not a Birkenstock in sight...I have great hopes for the Crack Young Staff...Chip was even sporting double cuffs, although he does have an indifferent tailor or a small trust fund...Needless to say I was proud to be such a good influence on the young folk...Happy Birthday.

Speaking of birthdays, Man About Mayfair turned 1 year old on March 31st and I forgot all about it...Has it been a year already? Time flies, etc. Happy Birthday to me...

Welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends...

2007-04-13T01:59:00.000+01:00

It is time...The guests will begin to arrive soon clamoring for attention, and in Mr. P's case, Black Velvet...The guest rooms are in readiness and I must remember to remove the Flashman books from the shelves in the good Padre's room and replace them with Thomas a'Kempis...La Grande Dame is on ice, the oysters are on the half shell, the kegs of Guinness are tapped and the Tiger Moth is prepped and ready...And the Countess has consented to be our hostess for the weekend, against her better judgment I am sure...So, let the festivities commence...I promise to tell you all about it...

Please forgive me...

2007-04-12T01:51:00.000+01:00

My Dear reader(s)....Terribly sorry for my absence of late...The Countess has cornered me into actually doing some work the past week or so...Well, I can't hide from her all the time...I am also busy preparing for the flying party I am giving this weekend...Mr. and Mrs. P, The Fiendish One and the good Padre are all scheduled to attend, and I am hoping that the weather will clear a bit...It will, of course, be loads of fun and the oysters are being flown in from the coast (the East one)...I will be publishing full details of all the goings-on next week...So, please stay with me during this busy time, and you will receive your reward...

By the way, I seem to have pulled the proverbial wool over the eyes of Robbo...He need'nt worry though, I did the same thing to the Countess...And remember, it is pronounced "Evilin Waar"...

From the Archives: English Women I've Known...

2007-03-30T02:53:00.000+01:00

Inscription reads: "My Dearest Basil, please don't be a stranger...Forever yours, Joan"

Good people have become a defeated class in Blair's Britain

2007-03-30T01:11:00.000+01:00

"...Such a development could not have taken place overnight. My wife, who is French, was attracted to the culture of this country because, as late as 1979 or 1980, the people, including administrators in hospitals, were obviously upright, whatever else their failings might have been. A quarter of a century later, all that has changed; deviousness, ruthlessness, an eye fixed on the main chance, sanctimony in the midst of obvious wrongdoing, toadying and bullying have become the ruling characteristics of the British people, or at least those of them who are in charge of something. The old virtues - stoicism, honesty, fortitude, irony, good humour and so forth - can still be found, but only in people who are of no importance, at least in the public administration. If I may put it very strongly, good people are like a defeated class in this country.

How has this all happened? I think that the spread of tertiary education has had quite a lot to do with it. First, it created a very large class of people who had to be found white collar jobs, since there is nothing more dangerous for a society's stability than a large number of unemployed people who consider themselves to be intellectuals. The obvious way to absorb such people was the expansion of the public service.

Second, the expansion of tertiary education resulted in the over-intellectualisation of society. Unfortunately, the average or median level of intellectual activity was very poor, but it meant that the concept of virtue in society changed. Henceforth, virtue was not the exercise of discipline, self-control or benevolence for the sake of others, but the expression of the right opinions of the moment. This could not have been better illustrated than in the case of the Conservative front-bencher, a former colonel who was very much liked and respected by his black soldiers, several of whom he promoted, and who defended him vigorously, who said something marginally unacceptable (its truth or untruth was not important), and had to be sacked as a consequence. Sticks and stones may not break my bones, but words will always hurt me.

When words become the test of virtue, they also become the masks of vice. That is why sanctimony and ruthless self-interest are such powerful allies."

Mr. P talks to Sir Basil Seal...And proves he is the chap...

2007-03-28T19:43:00.000+01:00

Mr. and Mrs. P

"Once again it takes an Englishman to say the things publicly that I have said privately for years--and never out loud for fear of being dragged into a hollow square of middle-aged men dressed in black t-shirts and jeans with shaved heads and wire-rimmed granny glasses who proceed to deprive me of my button-down shirt.

"Be an individual; join our group" is a slogan that covers more than just clothing in this country. It sums up the whole range of life, from the politics we follow to the books we read (or buy and keep on the coffee table to give the impression that we have read them). It is a land where anything formal and beautiful is immediately smeared with the label "conservative", where "creativity" in art is a code word for a kind of free-form chaos that mirrors and ratifies the moral abyss in the lives of those who create the it as well as those who patronize it.

You have merely scratched the surface, my dear Basil...but what a surface to scratch. You had better make sure all your shots are up to date."

Britain in the Ashtray

2007-03-28T14:40:00.000+01:00

"...Let it simply be said that Notes on a Scandal shows a kind of genius. That genius lies in the completeness with which it reveals a society as free from all ethical moorings - as free even from the vaguest recollection of ethical moorings - as Weimar Republican Berlin. Apart from two minor characters (Stephen’s bewildered father, and a briefly glimpsed veterinary surgeon who attends to Barbara’s cat), the only figure capable of behaving like an adult is Barbara. And she herself soon comes to take an unhealthy interest, possibly erotic, in Sheba. The difference is that she realizes the interest’s unhealthiness, and labors to abide by a moral code that she did not simply filch from last month’s number of Marie-Claire. Such labors make her as undesirable a freak, to her colleagues, as if she were Jane Austen. Therefore she must be punished with the full rigor of BoBo justice, where the Nanny State’s law counts for everything and the wider natural law counts for nothing; where friendships are ended not by grown-up discussion, but by the issuance of restraining orders; where being a narcissistic little girl trapped in a fortyish art teacher’s body is considered, not a disgrace to adulthood, but a valid lifestyle choice.

There is no reason to suppose that this near-perfect depiction of nihilism exaggerates, in any way, the quotidian horror of Britain under Blair. There is every reason to suppose that, if anything, it understates such horror. The British dispatches from Theodore Dalrymple, Peter Hitchens, and Geoffrey Wheatcroft regularly convey to us a land as unrecognizable from its 1970s self (some of us remember that self from our youth) as today’s Spain is from Franco’s. Note that to perceive Britain’s current thoroughgoing civilizational corruption, we need not even behold Blairism’s most specific miseries: the exorbitant crime rates that have ineluctably resulted from gun control; the inundation of every British metropolis under Islam’s tide; the home-grown terrorists; or the same-sex “civil union” bill that a putatively Christian Queen Elizabeth II signed into law. Notes on a Scandal leaves these unmentioned. They would be irrelevant. Sheba Hart’s environment is, heaven help us, the comparatively amiable face of modern Britain. Orwell’s words remain apposite:

“Emancipation is complete. Freud and Machiavelli have reached the outer suburbs ... one is driven to feel that snobbishness, like hypocrisy, is a check upon behavior whose value from a social point of view has been underrated.”..."

See this film...

2007-03-27T17:15:00.000+01:00

I accidentally saw this film and found it to be a delightfully biting satire. It is a film by Mike Judge (Office Space) and he skewers the entire breakfast buffet from the land of the vulgarians in a pleasantly savage manner. Be careful not to mistake this film for what it is satirizing...This would be easy to do and some of the material is extremely vulgar and painful to watch. But it has to be done this way in order to be effective, so bear with it, and you will be rewarded. There are some very funny and hilariously satirical bits in this film...I have been ranting against pop culture for years, and Mr. Judge has come along and skewered it on film for me. Thank you, sir...

"...A perfectly cast Luke Wilson stars as a quintessential everyman who hibernates for centuries and wakes up in a society so degraded by insipid popular culture, crass consumerism, and rampant anti-intellectualism that he qualifies as the smartest man in the world. Corporations cater even more unashamedly to the primal needs of the lowest common denominator—Starbucks now traffics in handjobs as well as lattes—and the English language has devolved into a hilarious patois of hillbilly, Ebonics, and slang.

Idiocracy's dumb-ass dystopia suggests a world designed by Britney Spears and Kevin Federline, a world where the entire populace skirts the fine line separating mildly retarded from really fucking stupid, and where anyone displaying any sign of intelligence is derided as a fag. Working on a sprawling canvas, Judge fills the screen with visual jokes, throwaway gags, and incisive commentary on the ubiquity of advertising—for instance, with the presidential-cabinet member who works paid plugs for Carl's Jr. into everyday conversations. Like so much superior science fiction, Idiocracy uses a fantastical future to comment on a present in which Paris Hilton is infinitely more famous than Nobel laureates. There's a good chance that Judge's smartly lowbrow Idiocracy will be mistaken for what it's satirizing, but good satire always runs the risk—to borrow a phrase from a poster-boy for the reverse meritocracy—of being misunderestimated..."

Interview with Sir Basil Seal

2007-03-26T01:59:00.000+01:00

The Belleview Tattle
Monday, March 26, 2007
by Brian Howard

Catching up with Sir Basil Seal

With the advent of Spring and Easter right around the corner, men everywhere, we are sure, are brushing off the white bucks and ensuring that the moths have not gotten to their linen suits or their seersucker. With this in mind, we caught up with Sir Basil Seal, to get this famously well-dressed and menacingly well-groomed mans advice on what we should be wearing this season. Mr. Seal, an Englishman, has lived among us for many years, sharing a home with his wife, the Countess von Knebel-Ezell, out on the Tanglebrook Estate in Hunter's Way. In his home country of England, Mr. Seal himself is a Baronet, the 14th Baronet of Beauchamp-Cholmondeley of St. Jennifer, to be exact, which he informs us is pronounced "Beechum-Chumley". Who would have thought it. He still has the ancestral home in Gloucestershire, which he says he visits regularly. In England, Mr. Seal was educated at The Oratory School, Oxfordshire and at St. Benet's Hall, Oxford. In the United States, Mr. Seal did graduate work at The University of Dallas. We caught up with Mr. Seal at his home, and sat down in his library, which seems to be quite a bit larger than the local public variety, to chat. As befitting his reputation, Mr. Seal was wearing a perfectly cut navy serge suit with white Sea Island cotton double-cuffed shirt and a yellow with sky blue dots seven-fold neck tie, and linen pocket square:

BT: Well, Mr. Seal, I'm...

BS: I'm going to smoke.

BT: Er, yes...What?

BS: I have a cigarette, I have lighted it, I am smoking.

BT: Well, yes, Okay...Well, I'm...

BS: Would you like a cigarette?

BT: What? Smoke? Oh, no, no don't smoke...Uh, but go ahead...

BS: Thank you.

BT: This is quite a room...Kind of almost like a Barnes and Noble...

BS: Yes, except mine actually has books in it...

BT: Well, yes, yes it does...

BS: Are you the young man who rang up to talk about how to dress? I take from your appearance and the absence of a proper crease on any article of your clothing that you are seeking some personal guidance?

BT: Well no, I mean yes, I'm here from the Tattler to interview you about fashion advice...

BS: Did you say fashion?

BT: Uh, yes...

BS: You obviously have me confused with someone else. I know nothing about fashion.

BT: Er, yes, but...I mean, I wanted to talk about what to wear, and that sort of thing, you know...

BS: That sort of thing? You mean you want me to dispense some sage advice on how the American male should dress this season? Something along the lines of fabric choices, cut, drape, shoes, hose...That sort of thing?

BT: Yes, yes, that's it exactly...I'd like to ask...

BS: Why?

BT: Ask you...What?...Why?...I don't...

BS: Why would you want me to dispense such advice to your readers when only four of them will understand the half of it and two of those will ignore it anyway.

BT: Well, Mr. Seal, I'm sure there are many men interested in what you...

BS: Will you take tea?

BT: What? Tea? Iced tea, now? I...

BS: My dear boy, I am having tea, you notice the tray here between us? It, of course is not iced by any means...I will pour you a cup, you look as if you could use it...A little demerara, a little cream...There you go, relax, take your time...Better? You were saying?

BT: Damn!

BS: I beg your pardon?

BT: I mean dang, sorry, it's hot...

BS: You amaze me...

BT: Well, dang...I was saying, that I'm sure our readers would love to hear what you have to say...I mean some men are still interested in how to dress in the proper way...

BS: Yes, yes, I'm sure that's why the nearest tailor is in London...

BT: London?

BS: Never mind...Let me give you the best possible advice for a gentleman who is serious about dressing properly and well in America...And to then be appreciated as a well dressed gentleman...

BT: Okay...What is it?

BS: Move.

BT: Move? You mean move your body? Shake a leg? Move?

BS: Move. Away.

BT: Meaning what exactly? Leave and move?

BS: Both. To a land without baseball caps, t-shirts or trousers worn about the knees. Move to a land without fashion designers or logos or gym shoes as the primary mode of footwear. Move to a land where young men are not given "Mr. T Starter Kits" on their birthday. Move to a land where "comfort" is not used as an excuse to be lazy and slovenly, where "to express oneself" is not used as an excuse to abandon self respect and respect for others. Move from a land where people tout "individualism" but are the biggest sheep on the planet, following every fad or whim that someone else tells them is "the thing". Where proper modes of male dress are not dictated by illiterate half-wits working for women's magazines. The rot is too deep my friend...The only thing left for it, is to move. Find a good tailor, it won't be in this country, outside of New York City anyway, and move close by.

BT: Uh...Well...

BS: More tea?

BT: No, no thanks, I think I've got it now, I'll be running along...

BS: You're not staying to dinner? You are quite welcome...

BT: No, no thanks, gotta go...Thanks for your time Mr. Seal...Very interesting...

BS: I am always happy to help out in any way I can...Let me show you out...

Read and learn with Sir Basil...

2007-03-25T16:34:00.000+01:00

Of course, we would be better of today, had we listened to Saki yesterday...

HERMANN THE IRASCIBLE - A STORY OF THE GREAT WEEP

by Saki (H. H. Munro)

It was in the second decade of the twentieth century, after the Great Plague had devastated England, that Hermann the Irascible, nicknamed also the Wise, sat on the British throne. The Mortal Sickness had swept away the entire Royal Family, unto the third and fourth generations, and thus it came to pass that Hermann the Fourteenth of Saxe-Drachsen-Wachtelstein, who had stood thirtieth in the order of succession, found himself one day ruler of the British dominions within and beyond the seas. He was one of the unexpected things that happen in politics, and he happened with great thoroughness. In many ways he was the most progressive monarch who had sat on an important throne; before people knew where they were, they were somewhere else. Even his Ministers, progressive though they were by tradition, found it difficult to keep pace with his legislative suggestions.

"As a matter of fact," admitted the Prime Minister, "we are hampered by these votes-for-women creatures; they disturb our meetings throughout the country, and they try to turn Downing Street into a sort of political picnic-ground."

"They must be dealt with," said Hermann.

"Dealt with," said the Prime Minister; "exactly, just so; but how?"

"I will draft you a Bill," said the King, sitting down at his typewriting machine, "enacting that women shall vote at all future elections. Shall vote, you observe; or, to put it plainer, must. Voting will remain optional, as before, for male electors; but every woman between the ages of twenty-one and seventy will be obliged to vote, not only at elections for Parliament, county councils, district boards, parish councils, and municipalities, but for coroners, school inspectors, churchwardens, curators of museums, sanitary authorities, police-court interpreters, swimming-bath instructors, contractors, choir-masters, market superintendents, art-school teachers, cathedral vergers, and other local functionaries whose names I will add as they occur to me. All these offices will become elective, and failure to vote at any election falling within her area of residence will involve the female elector in a penalty of £10. Absence, unsupported by an adequate medical certificate, will not be accepted as an excuse. Pass this Bill through the two Houses of Parliament and bring it to me for signature the day after to-morrow."

From the very outset the Compulsory Female Franchise produced little or no elation even in circles which had been loudest in demanding the vote. The bulk of the women of the country had been indifferent or hostile to the franchise agitation, and the most fanatical Suffragettes began to wonder what they had found so attractive in the prospect of putting ballot-papers into a box. In the country districts the task of carrying out the provisions of the new Act was irksome enough; in the towns and cities it became an incubus. There seemed no end to the elections. Laundresses and seamstresses had to hurry away from their work to vote, often for a candidate whose name they hadn't heard before, and whom they selected at haphazard; female clerks and waitresses got up extra early to get their voting done before starting off to their places of business. Society women found their arrangements impeded and upset by the continual necessity for attending the polling stations, and week-end parties and summer holidays became gradually a masculine luxury. As for Cairo and the Riviera, they were possible only for genuine invalids or people of enormous wealth, for the accumulation of o10 fines during a prolonged absence was a contingency that even ordinarily wealthy folk could hardly afford to risk.

It was not wonderful that the female disfranchisement agitation became a formidable movement. The No-Votes-for-Women League numbered its feminine adherents by the million; its colours, citron and old Dutch-madder, were flaunted everywhere, and its battle hymn, "We don't want to Vote," became a popular refrain. As the Government showed no signs of being impressed by peaceful persuasion, more violent methods came into vogue. Meetings were disturbed, Ministers were mobbed, policemen were bitten, and ordinary prison fare rejected, and on the eve of the anniversary of Trafalgar women bound themselves in tiers up the entire length of the Nelson column so that its customary floral decoration had to be abandoned. Still the Government obstinately adhered to its conviction that women ought to have the vote.

Then, as a last resort, some woman wit hit upon an expedient which it was strange that no one had thought of before. The Great Weep was organized. Relays of women, ten thousand at a time, wept continuously in the public places of the Metropolis. They wept in railway stations, in tubes and omnibuses, in the National Gallery, at the Army and Navy Stores, in St. James's Park, at ballad concerts, at Prince's and in the Burlington Arcade. The hitherto unbroken success of the brilliant farcical comedy "Henry's Rabbit" was imperilled by the presence of drearily weeping women in stalls and circle and gallery, and one of the brightest divorce cases that had been tried for many years was robbed of much of its sparkle by the lachrymose behaviour of a section of the audience.

"What are we to do?" asked the Prime Minister, whose cook had wept into all the breakfast dishes and whose nursemaid had gone out, crying quietly and miserably, to take the children for a walk in the Park.

"There is a time for everything," said the King; "there is a time to yield. Pass a measure through the two Houses depriving women of the right to vote, and bring it to me for the Royal assent the day after to-morrow."

As the Minister withdrew, Hermann the Irascible, who was also nicknamed the Wise, gave a profound chuckle.

"There are more ways of killing a cat than by choking it with cream," he quoted, "but I'm not sure," he added, "that it's not the best way."

Meet Sir Basil Seal

2007-03-23T13:48:00.000Z

I noticed a write-up on myself and Man About Mayfair over at a place called "The People's Media Company". Well, any group whose title includes the words 'the' and 'people's' is one, for obvious reasons, which has me reaching for the Riot Act...Anyway, there is a lady in Dublin who ran across Man About Mayfair, and has written an introduction for the uninitiated. An introduction which includes many mentions of 'snob', 'prig', 'aristocrat', etc...I must point out a few errors in her write-up, she got the 'snob' and 'prig' part right, but the other website she mentions concerning the Legion of Well-Dressed Men actually belongs to RW, I am just a humble member, and I cannot vouch for RW being a snob or not. And my wife is not a 'baroness' but a Countess...My son is the Baron...And my language is not reminiscent of a 'Dickens novel', I eschew Dickens, how about Waugh or Munro, I would be in better company with those comparisons. And really, everyone is welcome, but a jacket and tie are required...Helps keep the riff-raff out, don't you know...She does go into some technical detail about search engines and the like, which seems to indicate, to my immense relief, that I am hard to find. "Advertise my domain" forsooth, I should think a gentleman would never stoop to advertise anything...But anyway, It is indeed a pleasure to meet you Didi of Ireland, and thank you so much for stopping by...

Now people, be honest, do you really think I look like a snob in my portrait?

Sir Basil Seal salutes: Padre M....

2007-03-22T17:14:00.000Z

As many of you know, the good Padre M. is the official Padre of Man About Mayfair as well as the Chaplain of the RCBfA. He was kind enough to share this photograph of himself and Fr. Tucker of Dappled Things, strolling in their soutanes, (the good Padre is on the left) after we had been discussing the state of priestly dress in my diocese. What I like about these young men of God, is that they look like young men of God. Now, I am a Latin Masser, so the soutane is the only garb you will see in my little world, but I must say that in the wider church, it has all but disappeared, although the good news is that according to Padre M it is still widely worn in his diocese of Arlington.

Now the good Padre has informed me that he serves as my official Padre because he believes that I am a test sent to him by Satan, and he is not the sort to back down from a dust-up with the Evil One. I told him, that by happy coincidence, that is exactly the same thing that my parents always told me while I was growing up and trying to locate where they had moved to while I was away at school...So the Padre probably has something there...Anyway, he is a fine young man, and a dedicated servant of God, and I'm thankful to have him in my life. He also has a very keen sense of humor, which makes his association with me much easier on him.

As Padre M's fame grows (he is described as the next Fulton Sheen and will no doubt one day put on the red hat) there have been a few, less than reverent, shall we say, young ladies who have noticed that the Padre has been blessed with strikingly good looks. Some have even gone so far as to dub him the nations number one "Father What-a-Waste"! Now ladies, please...It is true that the good Padre is a very handsome young man, but his call to the ministry is by no means a waste. As the Lord has blessed him with physical beauty (a small portion of which Sir Basil would have been thankful a few years back) we have been blessed by the Padre's dedication to God and the Church and his ministry to us all. Not a "waste" by any means...

So here's to you Padre! We need more like you. Keep up the good work and may God bless you and your Bishop and may the Lord keep you safe and well. I promise to try not to test you...(much)...

Sir Basil Seal

Sir Basil Seal asks: Whose your Llama?

2007-03-22T16:26:00.000Z

Would you, er, gentlemen care to explain this distinctly un-Snake Pliskin-not to mention-Lee Van Cleef-like photo, or should we all pretend it never happened? You do realize this would constitute a speed bump on the Path to Rome. I realize the ECUSA would only be upset about the smokes, but I meant the dresses...Well?...

Back in the day, Sir Basil Seal would take it strong to the hole...

2007-03-22T01:05:00.000Z

But he preferred to lurk on the outside and spot up for the easy jumpah and play little or no defense while passing only under duress. Since March Madness has rolled around in the States, many of my readers write to me and say: "Sir Basil, if I remember correctly, back in the day, were you not somewhat the basketball god"...Well, in all modesty, I must confess that I was. You see, a small portion of my school days were spent in the States, against my wishes of course, but there you are...When I arrived on campus, it was common knowledge that I was a lawn tennis phenom in the Mother Country and of course played Cricket and was somewhat a hand with a foil, so the coaching staff immediately signed me up for basketball. Of course they recognized my superior English athletic ability, my fleet feet and my Adonis like physique...I also happened to be the only person available at that time to make up a side, but I'm not sure that factored into it...But as you can see, canvas shoes (Chuck Taylors by Converse, even today my only sneaker is the Jack Purcell by, of course, Converse. How they have survived Nike I have no idea) were good enough for us, we actually wore socks and pulled them up to our thighs proudly, we bravely donned our "Daisy Duke shorts" (you know the one's, with the little belt on the front) and played ball. We did not dunk, which was illegal, not that any of us could reach the rim anyway, and we, especially me, stood way outside and drained the jumpah, for which we were awarded two points, not three. And most importantly we were smart enough not to try and compete with the brothers...I rarely watch the game today, the players are just so good, that it is kind of embarrassing to remember how terrible most of us were. Although I will add that the uniforms worn by todays players are just absolutely ridiculous. Choose pants or shorts, one or the other please. Plus being able to turn-the-ball-over while dribbling and getting those nebulous 6 or 7 steps to the basket doesn't hurt performance either...Well anyway, it's not Cricket, but when in Rome...Although short, white and slow with no ability to break free of gravity, we had fun and of course loads of style...

Cathy Seipp, RIP

2007-03-20T15:39:00.000Z

Cathy Seipp has passed away from lung cancer...May she rest in peace. She will be missed and our prayers go out to her friends and family.

Monarchy in the age of New Labour

2007-03-20T00:41:00.000Z

Peter Hitchens:

"...Anyone who tries to discuss the political role of the monarchy is immediately banged over the head by tedious quotations from Walter Bagehot (it helps a lot if you know this is pronounced Badjot), who for some reason is believed to be the last word on the subject, thanks to some 19th-century scribblings that have become famous. He limited the functions of the monarch to muttering hesitant advice, and perhaps warnings, into the ears of ministers. This is taken as a sort of gospel on the subject.

And this might have worked in the dead era when the British establishment was run by gentlemen. Though don't be so sure. George V exerted all his influence to obtain a peaceful settlement in Ireland in 1921, which few can object to, but was he entitled to do so? He may well have gone beyond his powers in helping set up the National Government of 1931. Edward VIII came close to causing complete constitutional catastrophe. George VI utterly disgraced himself when he publicly lauded Neville Chamberlain's catastrophic surrender at Munich in 1938, an error he atoned for later but which oughtn't to be overlooked, ever. It is not often enough remembered that George VI and his Queen (the future Queen Mother) invited Chamberlain on to the balcony of Buckingham Palace to bathe in the cheers and admiration of a gigantic, deluded crowd, the whole embarrassing scene illuminated by the only anti-aircraft searchlights then available in London.

There are a couple of interesting fictional reflections on this that are worth looking at. George Macdonald Fraser's 'Mr American', one of his few non-Flashman books, contains an well-observed and historically well-informed depiction of Edward VII and examines the cunning and shrewdness that monarch used to keep pre-1914 Britain from flying apart. Constantine Fitz Gibbon's enjoyable and bitter Cold War thriller 'When the Kissing Had to Stop’ has some cunningly-described scenes as various highly responsible and senior persons try to use the traditional safeguards of the British constitution to prevent a pretty obvious coup d'etat. In an entirely believable way, they all persuade themselves that they are powerless to act until it is too late, and the putsch, with all its terrible consequences, succeeds.

Why does this matter? I think our obsession with 'democracy' as the only thing that makes government legitimate tends to blind us to the importance of other things. Why do we make such a fetish out of universal suffrage? If you had a choice between liberty and democracy - which are by no means the same thing, which would you pick? If you had a choice between the rule of public opinion and the rule of law, which would you pick? Are we safer with both Houses of Parliament 'elected' by party machines, or with at least one House whose members are immune from 'democratic' party pressure?

Actually, pure democracy would be unbearable, since every politician, to survive or prosper, would have to be a crowd-pleasing Blair type (actually, this now seems to be more and more what we have got).

Even assuming that we could reconstruct something like a decent education system, it is hard to see how a state governed purely by the popular will could be anything other than a corrupt anarchy, or a demagogic dictatorship. The purest product of mass democracy since it came into being was Adolf Hitler - whose National Socialists would have won an absolute majority in the Reichstag under our first-past-the post system, by the way. This isn't an argument against that system( which I favour) just a warning against being complacent.

Mass opinion can prevent good actions, as well as stimulating bad ones. It was American democracy, and the fervent campaigns of the America Firsters, that prevented Franklin Roosevelt from aiding Britain against Hitler. US public opinion was dead against involvement in a European war, and it's still not clear what would have happened if Hitler hadn't declared war on the USA after Pearl Harbor.

So most serious wielders of power in democratic states devise ways of frustrating, or getting round the 'people's will' which they praise in public. Mostly, these days, these anti-democrats are of the left. In the US, a largely liberal elite has for decades been using the unelected third chamber of Congress - the Supreme Court - to pass radical social legislation. In Canada, left-wingers who could never get anywhere in parliamentary politics have exploited the 'Charter of Rights and Freedoms' to do the same sort of thing.

And the European Convention on Human Rights gives liberal judges and the lawyers the same power to intervene here. The balance of our mixed constitution, partly as a result of this, has tipped heavily towards the Left. Parliament, especially the House of Commons, is now the servant of a left-wing governing party, not at all its master. So who or what can speak for tradition, for conservative opinions, for private life and family, for inheritance and continuity? Certainly not the Tory Party, which flatly refused to defend the hereditary principle against the attacks of Baroness Jay (who just happened to be the daughter of Jim Callaghan, and had no other visible qualification for her grand post as Leader of the Lords, in one of the best jokes of the 1990s).

That Tory failure to defend heredity was a warning to the British people and the monarchy that worse was to come. We all actually value inheritance - we expect to leave, or be left our goods and wealth in legally enforceable wills. We all know that we inherit important characteristics and gifts from our parents, and hope to pass such things on. Our state, with its memory and experience stretching back a thousand years, inherits each generation the principles of law and justice and liberty wrought by centuries of experience and combat. So what is wrong with a Head of State who embodies this idea?

Nothing, except that he or she gets in the way of the Left's desire for total control over the state, especially over the things previously regarded as politically neutral and so loyal to the crown - the civil service, the armed forces and the police. All these bodies are now increasingly politicised. I think that the moment is approaching when the monarchy has either to assert itself or be abolished. The danger is that, in asserting itself, it may get abolished as a punishment, while being slandered as unrepresentative, elitist etc. It will be a very difficult and risky moment..."