#lord peter wimsey
@Branagh: if you really wanted a clean-shaven Golden Age detective with a tragic WWI backstory, Lord Peter is right there. Do it now while Jessie Buckley isn’t too old to play Strong Poison-era Harriet.
The Case Book of Lord Peter by Dorothy L. Sayers
Japanese Book Cover
Illustration by Yoko Tanji (丹地陽子）
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Me reacting to Lord Peter Wimsey’s dialogue as a book: ohohoho he is so charming and clever and well educated, how I like him
Me reacting to Lord Peter Wimsey’s dialogue as an audiobook: if someone doesn’t shut this idiot up I shall get a mallet
Me reading about Peter Wimsey’s amiably stupid and ugly face like a maggot spontaneously generated from Gorgonzola cheese: this is ideal. This is hugh jackman in a soft sweater levels of giving the audience what they want. This is the only way to write about attractive men
Me seeing any given actor in a role of Peter Wimsey: oof, unfortunate, im glad British men aren’t real and can’t reach me
“I’ve always said,” growled Peter, “that the professional advocate was the most immoral fellow on the face of the earth, and now I know for certain.”
- Clouds of Witness, Dorothy Sayers
Well, gee, Lord Peter.
I AM enjoying this.
Lord Peter: I’ve solved part of the mystery.
Sir Impey Biggs: you’ve fucked up a perfectly good reasonable doubt, is what you’ve done. Look at it, it’s got explanations!
“But to Lord Peter the world presented itself as an entertaining labyrinth of side issues.”
RELATABLE
Dressing Gown
Harborow’s Outfitters
1925-1935
“As to Shirts, Scarves, Gloves, Handkerchiefs and Socks, a gentleman of taste cannot be too precise in making his selection. He should go to the very first authorities in London, among whom, HARBOROW, of 15, Cockspur Street (near Charing Cross), ‘makers to the Royal Family,’ and all the élite of the town, rank as the chief, and who alone 'keep touch’ with the best styles.”
–Charles Eyre Pascoe, 1892. (x)
–Men’s Wear: The Retailer’s Newspaper, Vol. 29, No. 2 (May 25, 1910), pp. 86-87. (x)
(transcription under the cut)
London Shop Windows.
The best furnishing houses here are not given to extensive window displays. In fact, those with the most exclusive goods make very little show to the public in general. Take, for instance, Messrs. Duclos of Conduit street (who hold several royal appointments); only about a third of an already small window is devoted to the actual display of goods. About a dozen handkerchiefs comprise the whole of their exhibit. The windows illustrated here (those of Messrs. Harborow, New Bond street) are rather an exception to this rule. This is one of the few select firms who, while keeping right up to date as to the prevailing mode, manage to introduce original ideas and a personal touch which are not to be found in the goods shown in the average store, where only the decree of the manufacturer and his enterprising salesmen is accepted as to what is and will be the correct thing for each season.
In the window to the left of the entrance are shown a dressing gown and two smoking jackets. The jackets are made of a handsome brocade of fine quality, lined with a soft silken fabric. They are the very last word in luxurious comfort. A few silk scarfs in rich dark tones complete the exhibit.
In striking contrast, the window to the right is filled with colored handkerchiefs of the finest lawn, delicately tinted in pink, blue, helio and green . These are shown alternately with light colored gloves in the softest of doe and chamois. Altogether it is a window at which one feels compelled to linger and admire.
In the new Piccadilly arcade, which has just been opened,I noticed one or two neat little hosiers’ shops. They are all of the doll’s house type and the room is exceedingly limited. The lack of space, however, is more than made up for by the excellence of the goods and the taste shown in exhibiting them. One of the tiny windows devoted to evening dress, waistcoats, ties, gloves, etc., is particularly good. In another, chamois gloves in their natural color, with an edging of black, are amongst the most dressy things of the season. American visitors this year should take a stroll through this arcade. It will not be wasted time. A straw hat of exceeding lightness, now being shown in some of the windows, seems aptly described as “The rainoplane.”
With the many excellent window displays, it is almost impossible to notice any that stand out boldly from the rest, but a “blue” window in one of our smartest houses seemed to call for more than passing attention. The whole scheme was in excellent taste, and the beautiful gradations of shade, from the palest of skies to a rich, deep, almost royal tone, were most pleasing.
Neckwear, socks, even braces, the latter in a beautiful watered silk, were to be had, either en suite, or in such delightful contrasts that the most exacting taste could not fail to be satisfied.
I was also struck by a very fine display of striped shirts in the premises of one of our leading shirtmakers. Some of the soft tunic shirts in white grounds, with stripes of either black, blue or green, were especially good and, while losing none of their comfortable negligee appearance, seemed to have assumed a dressiness not usually expected in these goods.
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“Oh, damn!” said Lord Peter Wimsey at Piccadilly Circus. “Hi, driver!”
The taxi man, irritated at receiving this appeal while negotiating the intricacies of turning into Lower Regent Street across the route of a 19 ‘bus, a 38-B and a bicycle, bent an unwilling ear.
“I’ve left the catalogue behind,” said Lord Peter deprecatingly, “uncommonly careless of me. D'you mind puttin’ back to where we came from?”
“To the Savile Club, sir?”
“No–110 Piccadilly–just beyond–thank you.”
“Thought you was in a hurry,” said the man, overcome with a sense of injury.
“I’m afraid it’s an awkward place to turn in,” said Lord Peter, answering the thought rather than the words. His long, amiable face looked as if it had generated spontaneously from his top hat, as white maggots breed from Gorgonzola.
–Dorothy L. Sayers, Whose Body? (1923), Chapter 1.
Two items of interest from “General Information”:
“Note.–It is not possible to insert in this Guide all short workings of routes which traffic requirements necessitate. The omnibuses when working on these short routes, bear the same number as the main route upon which they work with the addition of a letter.”
“Country services shown in red.”
Images: Cover and details from “Map of the General Omnibus routes. No. 4, 1928” issued by London General Omnibus Co., Ltd.
It’s very inconvenient being a sculptor. It’s like playing the double-bass; one’s so handicapped by one’s luggage.
“[Bunter] was anxious about the arrangements—or the lack of them—at Talboys. He hoped everything would be found in good order when they arrived—otherwise, his lady and gentleman might get nothing to eat till goodness knew when. True, he had brought ample supplies from Fortnum’s, but suppose there were no knives or forks or plates available. He wished he could have gone ahead, as originally instructed, to see to things.”
Sayers, Dorothy L., Busman’s Honeymoon (1937), Chapter I. New-Wedded Lord.
Fortnum & Mason, colloquially Fortnum’s, is a British department store founded in 1707 and known for its provisions. Bunter would not have had to go far to stock up, as its main location at 181 Piccadilly would have been blocks from Lord Peter’s flat at 110A.
Image 1: Fortnum & Mason Piccadilly shop, decked out for the Jubilee of King George V in 1935. (x)
Images 2-3: Fortnum & Mason Potted Game jar, pre-1917. (x)
Image 4: Fortnum & Mason Stilton Cheese jar, post-1917. (x)
Image 5: Fortnum & Mason Caviar jar, circa 1930s. (x)
TFW you get to Chapter XVIII. Unexpected Conclusion of a Cricket Match.
‘Now, take it from me, old man, that kind of thing won’t do at all.’
Lord Peter delicately raised his eyebrows.
‘Of course,’ pursued Mr Weldon, ‘I see your game all right. You’re nuts on this kind of thing and it’s all a darn good advertisement, and it gives you a jolly good excuse for barging round with the girl. That’s quite all right. But it’s not quite the game to go playing my mother up, if you see what I mean. So I thought I’d just give you a hint. You won’t take offence?’
‘I am quite ready,’ said Lord Peter, ‘to take anything I am offered.’
Mr Weldon looked puzzled for a moment and then burst into a hearty laugh. ‘That’s good,’ he said, ‘dashed good. What was yours? Martell Three-Star? Here, Johnnie, same again for this gentleman.’
‘Thank you, no,’ said Wimsey. You misunderstood me.’
‘Oh, come—another little spot won’t do you any harm. No? Oh, well, if you won’t, you won’t. Mine’s a Scotch-and-soda. Well, now, we understand one another, eh?’
‘Oh, yes. I think I understand you perfectly.’
–Dorothy L. Sayers, Have His Carcase (1932). Chapter XII. The Evidence of the Bride’s Son.
Bottle of Martell Three-Star cognac, c. 1930s. (x)
Closer view of c. 1930s label. (x)
Martell’s advertisement, 1934. (x)
Gaudy Night:
“But one has to make some sort of choice,” said Harriet. “And between one desire and another, how is one to know which things are really of overmastering importance?”
“We can only know that,” said Miss de Vine, “when they have overmastered us.”
Busman’s Honeymoon:
“Bunter isn’t the only person with standards. You must do what you think right. Promise me that. What I think doesn’t matter. I swear it shall never make a difference.”
He took her hand and kissed it gravely.
“Thank you, Harriet. That is love with honor.”
They stood so for a moment, both conscious that something had been achieved that was of enormous—of overmastering importance. Then Harriet said, practically:
“In any case, you were right, and I was wrong. The thing has got to be done. By any means, so long as we get to the bottom of it. That’s your job, and it’s worth doing.”
“Always provided I can do it. I don’t feel very brilliant at the moment.”
“You’ll get there in the end. It’s all right, Peter.”
He laughed—and Bunter came in with the soup.
Silence for a few moments. Harriet felt that Wimsey ought to be saying, ‘How well you dance.’ Since he did not say it, she became convinced that she was dancing like a wax doll with sawdust legs. Wimsey had never danced with her, never held her in his arms before. It should have been an epoch-making moment for him. But his mind appeared to be concentrated upon the dull personality of an East Anglian farmer. She fell a victim to an inferiority complex, and tripped over her partner’s feet.
‘Sorry,’ said Wimsey, accepting responsibility like a gentleman.
‘It’s my fault,’ said Harriet. ‘I’m a rotten dancer. Don’t bother about me. Let’s stop. You haven’t got to be polite to me, you know.’
Worse and worse. She was being peevish and egotistical. Wimsey glanced down at her in surprise and then suddenly smiled.
‘Darling, if you danced like an elderly elephant with arthritis, I would dance the sun and moon into the sea with you. I have waited a thousand years to see you dance in that frock.’
‘Idiot,’ said Harriet.
–Dorothy L. Sayers, Have His Carcase (1932), Chapter XII. “The Evidence of the Bride’s Son”
MARRIAGES
WIMSEY—VANE. On the 8th October, at St. Cross Church, Oxford, Peter Death Bredon Wimsey, second son of the late Gerald Mortimer Bredon Wimsey, 15th Duke of Denver, to Harriet Deborah Vane, only daughter of the late Henry Vane, M.D., of Great Pagford, Herts.
–Dorothy L. Sayers, Busman’s Honeymoon
Happy Anniversary to our favorite pair of sleuths!
art by @agreyeyedgirl/Charis M. Ellison
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In which Charis and Sharon attempt to begin discussing HAVE HIS CARCASE, the seventh Lord Peter Wimsey mystery. Spoiler alert: they don’t get very far. They cover their mutual love of the book’s opening paragraph, the practice of the British walking tour, and Harriet Vane’s discovery of a corpse. They then go on a very long tangent about the depiction of policing in detective fiction. Also: Harriet’s relationship with the press, how various characters in the novel attempt to construct narratives for themselves, and Sayers’ increasing attentiveness to place in the latter half of the Wimsey series.
This episode covers the first three chapters of HAVE HIS CARCASE and does not give away the whodunnit.
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Telegram from Lord Peter Wimsey to Miss Harriet Vane:
FOLLOWING RAZOR CLUE TO STAMFORD REFUSE RESEMBLE THRILLER HERO WHO HANGS ROUND HEROINE TO NEGLECT OF DUTY BUT WILL YOU MARRY ME — PETER.
Telegram from Miss Harriet Vane to Lord Peter Wimsey:
GOOD HUNTING CERTAINLY NOT SOME DEVELOPMENTS HERE — VANE.
–Dorothy L. Sayers, Have His Carcase, Chapter VI. “The Evidence of the First Barber,” 1932.
