Evening star., 1941-07-02


Henry MeLemOre. a Nazi servant
who, like as not, read with pleasure
of the destruction of another bit of
England while he readied the break
fast tray.
And what do you suppose Sir
Roderick Glossop, Tuppy Glossop,
Stanley Featherstonehaugh Uxridge,
Anatole the cook, and those doughty
aunts, Agatha and Dahlia, think
when they read that the man who
brought them into being plans to
broadcast once a week on the same
frequency perhaps with Lord Haw
HaW?
Even Lord Ellsworth, that bloated
hog fancier whose life is wrapped
up in his prize SOW, the magnificent
Empress of Blandings, must have
felt a twinge when he learned that
Wodehouse had enjoyed his intern
ment by the NaZis and that he
wouldn't have missed the expert
cIiCc 1O4 lIlc HOliN
Wodehouse's seeming Hl-arOund
happiness in an internment camp
would lead one to believe that life
as a prisoner in Upper Silesta is
much like the life at those fantastic
addresses he gave the characters in
his books, such places. you will re-
member, as Upper footing on the
Grating, Upper Tvigweu on the
Beeping and Upper Beeping on the
| Twigweu.
No dialogue from any of his books
reads any more ridiculously than
the interviews with WodehouSe
which have come out of Germany.
Instead Of being at all resentful
toward the Nazis, his statements are
chock-full of the OIL plp-pip and
| cheerlo.
Il never have been able to work
up a belligerent feeling" he is
quoted as saying. Just as I am
about to feel belligerent about some
country I meet some nice fellow
from it and lose all my belligerency.
Naturally, I hope the war is over
soon, but if I am able to continue
my work I will be satisfied. All I
ask is a table, a typewriter and no
Interruptions
I trust this interview with the
famed English writer was printed
in his home country because I
know the r. A. F. would feel a
great hesitancy about bombing Ber-
lin if it thought that it might dis
turb this patriots leisurely life in
the center of Berlin. What q shame
it would be if the detonation of al
English bomb upset his beer and
spilled it across his typewriter with
which he has made a fortune BY
making fun Of Englishmen.
/ 1t has been a year since Wode-
house, refusing to allow a little
thing like the arrival of a German
army in lie Touquet, France. to IN
terrupt a cocktail party he was Civ
ing at his villa, was captured BY
the Nazis. Except for missing his
wife, he told reporters, he had no
complaints.
/ As an old Wodehouse reader 7 be-
lieve I understand why he hasn't
missed England in the year he has
| been away. The England he knew
and the Englishmen he wrote about
are gone.
The BERTHE Woosters. with their
outlandish clothes, their love of
nothing more than a practical Joke.
are flying Spitfres over the Chan
mel. The Bingo Littles who were
always getting engaged to beau
tiful girls, are now engaged in peep
ing down the sights of guns from the
bellies Of bombers. The grounds of
the Blanding castles have been
turned into truck farms, and the
marble halls into refugees for evac-
uees. The Sir Roderick Blossoms
are parashots and the Uxridges are
air raid vardens. The Aunt Dahlias
are driving ambulances and the
Jeeves are being complimented with
Very good, Jeeves" for pouring
sand on incendiary bombs and not
for pouring tea.
Remember the Drones Club, Mr..
Wodehouse?
You probably wouldn't know 1t
now.
One of those belligerents you find
1t impossible to dislike undoubtedly
has dropped a bomb on it, reducing
it to rubbish.
But that wouldn't disturb you,
Mr.. Wodehouse, because the sound
OF bomb exploding in England
wouldn't carry to your sanctuary In
Berlin.
Jeeves, call my bookseller.
| distributed by McNaught Syndicate, rnc1