And here was Sir Roderick Glossop, in person, getting on to the train at Paddington, having changed his mind. Lord Ickenham needed that stop at Oxford badly. It gave him time to talk Sir Roderick into believing that the patient he had been so hurriedly sent for to inspect had turned the corner and needed no immediate attention: so Sir Roderick could go back to his busy practice, stepping off at Oxford and catching whoknowswhat train home to London.
Finally, if train times helped to give Market Blandings a position on the map of Shropshire, we might decide which way the Vale of Blandings went. We put the castle at the end. For how many miles does the Vale stretch? Is Market Blandings short of, or beyond Shrews-bury, its nearest reasonable-sized shopping town? Do you turn left or right for Shrewsbury when you come out of the castle drive on to the main road?
I decided to ask the help of a friend of mine who had been a Bradshaw expert at his (and my) preparatory school, long before he joined British Railways as a career. This was the evidence I supplied:
Trains from Paddington to Market Blandings
0830 express (Sunset at Blandings 1977). The train that arrives at 1610 (Service with a Smile 1961).
1118 (A Pelican at Blandings 1969).
1145 (Service with a Smile 1961).
1242 ‘first stop Swindon’ arrives ‘shortly before 1700 (Full Moon 1947).
1250 arrives about 1500—i.e. about 2 hours 10 minutes ? this a misprint (Leave it to Psmith 1923).
1400 ‘best train of the day’. Stops at Swindon (Blandings Castle 1935).
1423 (A Pelican at Blandings 1969).
1445 express. First stop Oxford (Uncle Fred in the Spring time 1939).
1515 (Blandings Castle 1935).
1615 express. Stops at Swindon (Something Fresh 1915). An express that arrives c. 2105. Restaurant car (Leave it to Psmith 1923 and Uncle Fred in the Spring time 1939).
1705 ‘there is nothing between the 1400 and this’ (Blandings Castle 1935).
Trains from Market Blandings to Paddington
0820 ‘arrives about noon’ (Uncle Fred in the Springtime 1939).
0825 (Uncle Fred in the Springtime 1939).
0850 arrives about midday (Leave it to Psmith 1923).
1035 (Service with a Smile 1961).
1050 (Something Fresh 1915).
1115 (Hot Water 1932).
1240 arrives shortly before 1700 (Full Moon 1947).
1400 (Blandings Castle 1935 and Uncle Fred in the Springtime 1939).
1445 (Heavy Weather 1933 and Uncle Fred in the Springtime 1939).
‘the afternoon train’ (Something Fresh 1915).
1445 Car at the Castle at 1400 sharp (Leave it to Psmith 1923).
1800 (Full Moon 1947).
Notes:
1. There are also branch-line trains mentioned. Bridge-ford (can this mean Bridgnorth?) to Market Blandings takes 30 minutes (Leave it to Psmith 1923). A train leaves Market Blandings towards Norfolk at 1240, and there’s one that returns from the Norfolk direction at about 1945 ‘in time to dress for dinner’ (Heavy Weather 1933).
2. Blandings Castle is in Shropshire. The Severn flows through its grounds. Shrewsbury is 45 minutes by car, not hurrying. Market Blandings is 2½/3 miles from the castle (that includes ¾ miles of the castle drive) . You can see the Wrekin from the battlements of the castle.
[P.S. I ought not to have assumed that the Severn flowed through the castle grounds. What it says in Leave it to Psmith (1923) is: ‘Away in the distance wooded hills ran down to where the Severn gleamed like an unsheathed sword: up from the river rolling park-land …’ Whose parkland? Probably Lord Emsworth’s, but, if so, perhaps the Severn marks his boundary there. My assumption gave some trouble.]
My expert friend passed on my evidences to a friend of his, Colonel Michael Cobb, who, besides knowing his Bradshaw, had the extra advantage of specializing in surveying during an army career in which he spent a number of years on the Ordnance Survey. Colonel Cobb produced a most learned report.
COLONEL COBB’S REPORT
From an initial glance at the problem it is clear that there are railway inconsistencies, such as Blandings Castle being on the Severn and in Shropshire, and yet one could get a train to its station from Paddington with a ‘first stop at Swindon’.
I realized that I must discard certain data. I have tried to find a place which fits the main topographical data and which lies within the limits of the largest number of the railway facts.
The topographical data are as follows: the castle is in Shropshire; the Severn runs through its grounds; it is 45 minutes by car to Shrewsbury, not hurrying; the Wrekin is visible from its battlements; it is 2½ miles or so from the castle to its station.
These data limit one to the environs of the Severn between Bridgnorth and Ironbridge, between Nesscliff and the Welsh border, possibly to Baschurch. (N.B. Oldswood Halt station was opened only in the middle-to-late 1930s.)
I took one railway fact — that it is generally a 4-hour journey from Paddington (1923), and a fast train takes about 3 hours 40 minutes (1947). I applied this to the above three areas. Bradshaw shows that the through trains only stop at Wellington (under 3 hours from Paddington) and, excluding Shrewsbury itself, Gobowen (about 3 hours 40 minutes) . This latter puts Blandings Castle eight miles from the Severn, which means that the river could hardly flow ‘through its grounds’ (though it might flow through its land, but that is not the same thing) . It also puts the castle in the suburbs of Oswestry. This is so unlikely that I discarded Gobowen.
At this stage I decided that there must be a change of trains for the passenger from Paddington to Market Blandings. This opens up:
1. The Shropshire and Montgomeryshire Railway, which was a possibility between Nesscliff and Kinnnerley Junction. But the trains were sparse and I feel sure that Wodehouse would have referred to their quaintness at some stage.
2. The main-line intermediate stations between Wellington and Shrewsbury, such as Walcot and Upton Magna, and the one possibly north of Shrewsbury, Baschurch. These all put the castle in the right topographical position. But I found that the local services were too sparse to give Wodehouse the frequencies he required.
3. The Severn Valley line. Here one could only just reach Bridgnorth in 3 hours 40 minutes from Paddington by one train, and the connections up to Paddington in the morning were extremely poor. One mainly ended up in Worcester Foregate Street.
Therefore, by rejection, this left the L.N.W. Coalport branch from Wellington, where the trains never connected with London trains, and the Much Wenlock branch from Wellington. On this latter I found one station which fitted so many topographical and railway facts that I plumped for it—Buildwas. It means a change of trains at Wellington. So you have to swallow the fact that Wodehouse never indicates that any passenger from London to the castle by train had to change en route. And you have to allow that, though Buildwas station was closed by the ‘stream-lining’ of British Rail in 1963, Wodehouse, living in America, might never have been told so.
Substitute Buildwas for Market Blandings and consider the facts arising. It is in Shropshire. Two and a half miles from the station takes one to the lovely village of Leighton where the Severn could run through the castle’s grounds. And it is 10 miles from the centre of Shrewsbury —say 45 minutes without hurrying in the 1920s.
OR
The castle could be on the south side of the river, up the slopes towards Much Wenlock. The Wrekin is terribly close and, if the castle is on the south side of the river, and therefore on a north-facing slope, every window must look out at the Wrekin. But if it is on the north side and more underneath the Wrekin, then I would expect there were trees in the park which would hide the view unless you climbed higher in the castle, i.e. onto the battlements. Therefore I favour the former site. (N.B. This is the only topographical fact that makes me favour the river between Coalport and Bridgnorth, but I cannot reconcile trains on that piece of line.)
I feel sure that Wodehouse would have looked into a
Bradshaw at some stage, having settled on his area, and discovered at what times the trains went to London and back, and how long they took. I think he will have noticed the L.N.W. branch to Coalport and seen Madeley Market station. Could that have been a part reason for naming the station for the castle ‘Market Blandings’? If only the trains had connected at Wellington, that would have been a fine station for his castle. (Could anyone have considered that Blandings Castle was really Apley Park? The Wrekin would be ideally ‘visible from its battlements’, and the Severn bounds miles of its park.)
Omitting the London trains for the moment (they are dealt with later), the following railway facts have to be reconciled:
Stops at, or first stop, Swindon: first stop Oxford. These two do not fit. They can be explained away, but that is not an answer. Never could one have gone from Paddington to 20 miles or so from Shrewsbury via Swindon. One could have gone via Oxford, but not have got farther north than Bridgnorth in the time taken.
Norfolk. A 1240 goes towards, and one returns about 1945. One can get to Yarmouth at 1946, leaving Buildwas at 1040 and return on the 0900 from Yarmouth, via Birmingham, arriving at 1751. Or, if one goes direct and does not mind changing many times, one can arrive at 2011. Inconclusive. Bridgeford to Market Blandings has branch-line trains taking half an hour. It is noticeable that Bridgnorth in the 1930s was between 26 and 29 minutes away from Buildwas.
Going into the daily services to and from London in depth leaves much confusion of detail, though a general pattern emerges. I have chosen Bradshaws of 1910, 1932, 1939, and 1961 to cover the dates of publication of the various books. I have divided the books into three eras: 1915-1923, 1932-1939 and 1947, 1961-1976. Rightly or wrongly I have taken the publication date of each book to represent the date of the story in it. I put 1947 with the 1932—1939 era because I feel Wodehouse would not have been able to lay his hands on a war-time or post-war Bradshaw.
The DOWN Trains
Wodehouse has trains, in general, leaving Paddington at around 0830, 1118/1145, 1242/1250, 1400/1423, 1515/1615 and 1700/1705. I would equate these to the 0910, 1110 (there was also an 1115 and an 1120 in 1939) and 1400. His 1515 (1939) is, I suspect, his own inclusion, and the 1700/1705 he has, for his own convenience, equated with the 1610, for there is nothing between the 1410 and the 1610 (he states there is nothing between the 1400 and 1705 [1935]). His 1700 has a restaurant car; in 1910 the 1655 had a Dining Car, though the 1610 of later years had only a Tea Car.
The UP Trains
Wodehouse has a ‘business-man’s’ train leaving variously between 0820 and 0850 and arriving at Paddington about midday. In fact there is nothing between the 0700/ 0720 from Buildwas, arriving Paddington 1100/1110, and the 0840/0913 arriving 1315/1408, so I think he has added this train, again for his own convenience. It connects with the actual 0855/0900 from Wellington which arrives in Paddington between 1205 and 1215 (from 1932 onwards). His other morning trains generally fit the timing of actual trains. His afternoon trains of 1400 and 1445 agree with the actual 1345 and 1515, and the ‘800 is exact with the actual 1802 or 1805.
It is clear that Wodehouse consulted Bradshaw, or that he had a railway-oriented person to give him the information — a general system of trains approximately two hours apart, up and down, which he then made to fit in with what he wanted.
I would prefer to have had positive confirmation that his passengers changed trains on their journeys up and down, but I believe that the sum of the evidence yields the conclusion that Buildwas was his Market Blandings.
*
Colonel Cobb was wise to take the publication dates of the books as giving the only possible time-scale to the enquiry. Although in this novel, Sunset at Blandings (1977), Galahad says he has only been gone a week since the activities of A Pelican at Blandings (1969), there are no years, or even months, specified in any of the books. There is a cold east wind at the beginning of Something Fresh (1915), and the house-party is strangely placed ‘between the hunting and the shooting seasons’. Otherwise surely it is always high summer with the roses out, tea on the lawn, coffee after dinner on the terrace or in some garden arbour, bathing in the lake every day. Occasional thunderstorms, occasional showers and Lord Ickenham one time has a fire in his bedroom. Hammock weather otherwise, and a perpetual annus mirabilis. Oh yes, the Empress has now won prizes at Shrewsbury three years in succession. But, if you’re going to be fussy about that, what price the information, in Something Fresh, that Lord Emsworth had been at Eton in the 1860s ? No, stick to the publishing dates like glue.
Thank you, Colonel. The newly published Oxford Literary Guide to the British Isles by Dorothy Eagle and Hilary Carnell, has no references for Blandings Castle or Wodehouse. We will be surprised if the second edition does not, on the strength of your identifications, have entries under these and Buildwas, Leighton and Madeley Market.
* * *
[1] Wodehouse, generally through the voice of Galahad, often calls Blandings Castle a Bastille, sometimes Devil’s Island.
[2] Would a Scotland Yard detective call the Chancellor of the Exchequer ‘Sir James’ ? No, he’d have said ‘Sir’, and Wodehouse would have known this, by heart and ear, if he had lived more in England. When he wrote this, he had been nearly forty years away from England. (His own accent showed no trace of American.) In the typescript of Sunset he is writing ‘somber’, ‘behavior’, ‘demeanor’ etc. But he wouldn’t have spelt them that way in a letter to England. The typescripts of his books went first to his American agent for duplication and sending out to publishers. His English publishers would make the alterations of spelling for the English market. In my early copy of the English edition of Leave it to Psmith (1923) I find ‘arbor’ and ‘arbour’ in different chapters.
[3] The fact that Lady Diana’s first husband was (a) handsome and (b) named Rollo makes one sure that she was lucky that he was eaten by a lion. In Wodehouse, as a general rule, all male Christian names ending in ‘o’, such as Cosmo, Orlo, Orlando, Rollo (not Pongo, Boko, Bimbo or Bingo — they were nicknames), stamped a man as being a wet or a sponger or a fool. It is strange, though, that when The Clicking of Cuthbert (1922) was published as Golf without Tears in New York in 1924, in the story ‘The Long Hole’, Ralph Bingham had been changed to Rollo Bingham. Hugo (as in Hugo Carmody) is the only acceptable male Christian name with an ‘o’ at the end.
[4] Wodehouse’s best girls (e.g. Stiffy Byng, Nobby Hopwood and Bobbie Wickham) certainly dominate their loved ones (The Rev. ‘Stinker’ Pinker, Boko Fittleworth and ‘Kipper’ Herring) . It looks as though this last novel might almost have amounted to a reverse message to all mankind:
‘Dominate her. She’ll love it, and you.’ Two of the major characters in the Wodehouse novels have been Lord Ickenham and Lord Uffenham, frequent advisers, generally unasked, of timid young men. Their advice is the same: ‘Go to the girl you have been nervously and distantly adoring, grab her like a sack of coals, waggle her about a bit, shower kisses on her upturned face and murmur passionate words (e.g. “My mate!”) into her ear. This seldom fails.’ It got Cyril McMurdo, the ardent policeman, a slap on the face first time from old Nannie Bruce in Cocktail Time, but it brought good results in the end. In this novel, Sunset at Blandings, Florence is surely going to be reconciled to her ‘weak’ husband, but, equally surely, only when she has seen him rise and dominate someone — herself, one hopes. Lord Emsworth achieves good results when he rises and dominates Florence and her hanger-on, Brenda. They are so surprised and annoyed that they leave the castle.
[5] The Pelican Club, in Denman Street, Soho, was short-lived (1887—1892) but fondly remembered: by Galahad, who had been a prominent member, in Wodehouse’s books, by Arthur Binstcad in A Pink ‘Un and a Pelican and Pitcher in Paradise, and by J. B. Booth in Old Pink ‘Un Days. For a scholarly and suggestive analysis of the cousinship between the Pelican and the Drones, see a paper ‘The Real Drones Club’, by Lt.-Col. Norman Murphy in the August 1975 issue of Blackwood’s Magazine.
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The Gardenia Club (see p. 22), in Leicester Square, was one of many started when the Licensing Acts of the 1870s made restaurants close at 12.30 a.m. The Gardenia was a dancing club and, unusually, had women as well as men as members. It was less exclusive, in that way and generally, than the Pelican. It was opened, probably in 1882, by the Bohee brothers, black musicians who had come over from America with Haverley’s Minstrels. They sold the club to William Dudley Ward, father of the Member of Parliament for Southampton (1906-1922). Dudley Ward persuaded La Goulue (see Toulouse Lautrec’s Moulin Rouge drawings) to appear at the club. He sold the club to an Australian, ‘Shut-Eye’ Smith, who was its owner when the police closed it down, probably for infringements of the drinking rules, probably in 1889. I am indebted for this information again to Col. Murphy.
[6] Jno Robinson has been the owner-driver of the Market Blandings station taxi (see picture, page 187) since Heavy Weather (1933).
[7] This paragraph, almost word for word, is repeated from Chapter 2 of Galahad at Blandings. The end of the last sentence, about Galahad’s policemen friends, is new.