Augustus Carp, Esq., by Himself

by Henry Howarth Bashford

Overview

"A sublime ferocious farce." — The New Yorker.
"Incomparable ... a wonderful slapstick satire on hypocrisy." — New Statesman.
"One of the great comic novels of the twentieth century." — Anthony Burgess.
Meet our memoirist, Augustus Carp, a self-proclaimed "good man" who relishes every opportunity to condemn the weaknesses of others while excusing his own failings. In this spoof autobiography, the pompous narrator enthusiastically recounts his mundane achievements with unwitting hilarity, making frequent asides to bemoan the sins of lesser mortals. Much of the story's ironic humor derives from his delivery; the more seriously Carp takes himself, the more ridiculous he appears.
This riotous fable is supported by a cast of delightfully eccentric and grotesque characters: Abraham Stool, manufacturer of the famous Adult Gripe Water; schoolteacher Mr. Beerthorpe, inevitably known to his charges as "Beery"; the Rev. Eugene Cake, author of such improving fiction as Gnashers of Teeth; and other memorable personalities. A cult classic and comic gem, the book was originally published anonymously in 1924 and rediscovered decades later, when its author was revealed as a genteel (and discreet) London physician. This edition features the splendidly droll illustrations by Punch artist Marjorie Blood from the original publication.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780486812878
Publisher:	Dover Publications
Publication date:	03/17/2017
Pages:	240
Sales rank:	273,345
Product dimensions:	5.00(w) x 7.80(h) x 0.60(d)

About the Author

Sir Henry H. Bashford (1880–1961) was Chief Medical Officer to the Post Office, Medical Adviser to the Treasury, and Honorary Physician to King George VI. In addition to medical articles for the Lancet, he wrote poetry and nonfiction. Augustus Carp is Bashford's only work of humor; he published it under a pseudonym and his identity as the author remained unknown until after his death.
"Robin," the book's illustrator, was Punch cartoonist Marjorie Blood. A year after illustrating the book, she joined Roehampton Convent, where generations of girls knew her as Mother Catherine.

Read an Excerpt

Augustus Carp, Esq., by Himself

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By Henry Howarth Bashford, Robin

Dover Publications, Inc.

Copyright © 2017 Henry Howarth Bashford
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-486-81287-8

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CHAPTER 1

No apology for writing this book. An imperative duty under present conditions. Description of my parents and their personal appearances. Description of Mon Repos, Angela Gardens. Long anxiety prior to my birth. Intense joy when at last this takes place. My father's decision as to my Xtian name. Early selection of my first godfather.

It is customary, I have noticed, in publishing an autobiography to preface it with some sort of apology. But there are times, and surely the present is one of them, when to do so is manifestly unnecessary. In an age when every standard of decent conduct has either been torn down or is threatened with destruction; when every newspaper is daily reporting scenes of violence, divorce, and arson; when quite young girls smoke cigarettes and even, I am assured, sometimes cigars; when mature women, the mothers of unhappy children, enter the sea in one-piece bathing-costumes; and when married men, the heads of households, prefer the flicker of the cinematograph to the Athanasian Creed – then it is obviously a task, not to be justifiably avoided, to place some higher example before the world.

For some time – I am now forty-seven – I had been feeling this with increasing urgency. And when not only my wife and her four sisters, but the vicar of my parish, the Reverend Simeon Whey, approached me with the same suggestion, I felt that delay would amount to sin. That sin, by many persons, is now lightly regarded, I am, of course, only too well aware. That its very existence is denied by others is a fact equally familiar to me. But I am not one of them. On every ground I am an unflinching opponent of sin. I have continually rebuked it in others. I have strictly refrained from it in myself. And for that reason alone I have deemed it incumbent upon me to issue this volume.

I propose in the first instance to deal with my earliest surroundings and the influence exerted upon me by my father, believing as I do that every man (and to a lesser extent every woman) is almost entirely the product of his or her personal endeavours. I cannot pretend, of course, to attach much importance to merely paternal influence. Nevertheless in the lives of each one of us it undoubtedly plays a certain part. And although my father had numerous faults, as I afterwards discovered and was able to point out to him, he yet brought to bear on me the full force of a frequently noble character.

That such was his duty I do not of course deny. But duty well done is rare enough to deserve a tribute. And in days such as these, when fatherhood is so lightly regarded, and is so frequently, indeed, accidental, too much attention can surely not be given to so opposite an instance.

At the time of my birth, then, and until his death, my father was a civic official in a responsible position, being a collector of outstanding accounts for the Consolidated Water Board. In addition, he was one of the most respected and trustworthy agents of the Durham and West Hartlepool Fire and Burglary Insurance Company, a sidesman of the Church of St James-the-Less in Camberwell, and the tenant of Mon Repos, Angela Gardens. This was one of some thirty-six admirably conceived houses of a similar and richly ornamented architecture, the front door of each being flanked and surmounted by diamond-shaped panes of blue and vermilion glass; and though it was true that this particular house had been named by the landlord in a foreign tongue, it must not be assumed that this nomenclature in any way met with my father's approval. On the contrary, he had not only protested, but such was his distrust of French morality that he had always insisted, both for himself and others, upon a strictly English pronunciation.

Somewhat under lower middle height, my father, even as a boy, had been inclined to corpulence, a characteristic, inherited by myself, that he succeeded in retaining to the end of his life. Nor did he ever lose – or not to any marked extent – either the abundant hair that grew upon his scalp, his glossy and luxurious moustache, or his extraordinarily powerful voice. This was a deep bass that in moments of emotion became suddenly converted into a high falsetto, and he never hesitated, in a cause that he deemed righteous, to employ it to its full capacity. Always highly coloured, and the fortunate possessor of an exceptionally large and well-modelled nose, my father's eyes were of a singularly pale, unwinking blue, while in his massive ears, with their boldly outstanding rims, resided the rare faculty of independent motion.

My mother, on the other hand, presented hardly a feature that could, in the strictest sense, have been called beautiful, although she was somewhat taller than my father, with eyes that were similar in their shade of blue. Like my father's, too, her nose was large, but it had been built on lines that were altogether weaker, and the slightly reddish down upon her upper lip might even by some people have been considered a disfigurement. She had inherited, however, together with five hundred pounds, an apparently gentle disposition, and was a scion or scioness of the Walworth Road branch of the great family of Robinson. Herself the eldest of the nine daughters of Mortimer Robinson, a well-known provision merchant, my father had claimed relationship for her, albeit unsuccessfully, with Peter Robinson of Oxford Street, while he used half humorously to assert her connection with the fictional character known as Robinson Crusoe. Clean in her habits, quiet about the house, and invariably obedient to his slightest wish, he had very seldom indeed, as he often told me, seriously regretted his choice of a wife.

With sufficient capital, therefore, not only to furnish his house, but to pay its first year's rent and establish an emergency fund, my father might well have been supposed by an ignorant observer to be free from every anxiety. Such was not the case, however, and he was obliged, almost immediately, to face one of the sternest ordeals of his married life. Ardently desiring increase, it was not for nine and a half months that Providence saw fit to answer his prayers, and as week succeeded week and the cradle still remained empty, only his unfaltering faith saved him from despair. But the hour came at last, and so vividly has my father described it to me that I have long since shared its triumphant joy.

Born at half-past three on a February morning, the world having been decked with a slight snow-fall, it was then that my mother's aunt, Mrs Emily Smith, opened the bedroom door and emerged on the landing. My father had gone outside to lean over the gate, and was still leaning there when she opened the door, but my mother's mother, with another of my mother's aunts, were standing with bowed heads at the foot of the stairs. Prone in the parlour, and stretched in uneasy attitudes, five of her eight sisters were snatching a troubled sleep, while two fellow-members of my mother's Mothers' Guild were upon their knees in the back kitchen. But for the fact, indeed, that two of my mother's sisters had not, at that time, had their tonsils removed, the whole house would have been wrapped in the profoundest stillness.

My mother's mother was the first to see Mrs Smith, though she only saw her, as it were, through a mist. Mrs Smith was the first to speak, in a voice tremulous with emotion.

'Where's Augustus?' she said. Augustus was my father's name.

'He's just gone outside,' said my mother's mother.

Something splashed heavily on the hall linoleum. It was a drop of moisture from Mrs Smith's forehead.

'Tell him,' she said, 'that he's the father of a son.'

My mother's mother gave a great cry. My father was beside her in a single leap. Always, as I have said, highly coloured, his face at this moment seemed literally on fire. The two fellow-members of my mother's Mothers' Guild, accompanied by my father's five sisters-in-law, rushed into the hall. Mrs Smith leaned over the banisters.

'A boy,' she said. 'It's a boy.'

'A boy?' said my father.

'Yes, a boy,' said Mrs Smith.

There was a moment's hush, and then Nature had its way. My father unashamedly burst into tears. My mother's mother kissed him on the neck just as the two fellow-members burst into a hymn; and a moment later, my mother's five sisters burst simultaneously into the doxology. Then my father recovered himself and held up his hand.

'I shall call him Augustus,' he said, 'after myself.'

'Or tin?' suggested my mother's mother. 'What about calling him tin, after the saint?'

'How do you mean – tin?' said my father.

'Augus-tin,' said Mrs Emily Smith.

But my father shook his head.

'No, it shall be tus,' he said. 'Tus is better than tin.'

Then his five sisters-in-law resumed the singing, from which the two fellow-members had been unable to desist, until my father, who had been rapidly thinking, once again held up his hand.

'And I shall give the vicar,' he said, 'the first opportunity of becoming Augustus's godfather.'

Then he took a deep breath, threw back his shoulders, tilted his chin, and closed his eyes; and with the full vigour of his immense voice, he, too, joined in the doxology.

CHAPTER 2

Trials of my infancy. Varieties of indigestion. I suffer from a local erythema. Instance of my father's unselfishness. Difficulty in providing a second godfather. Unexpected solution of the problem. The ceremony of my baptism. A narrow escape. Was it culpable carelessness? My father transfers his worship to St James-the-Lesser-Still, Peckham Rye.

With the portion of my life that intervened between my birth and my baptism I do not propose, owing to exigencies of space, to deal in the fullest detail. But it may be of some comfort to weaker fellow-sufferers to be assured that, from the outset, the ill-health to which I have been a life-long martyr played its part in testing my character. Singularly well formed, of a sanguine complexion, and weighing not less than four and three-quarter pounds, Providence saw fit almost immediately to purge me without medicinal aid. Whether this was due, under Higher Supervision, as my father several times forcibly suggested to her, to some dietary excess or indiscretion on the part of my mother was never determined. But the fact remained that for several weeks I suffered from indigestion in two main directions.

Twice, indeed, on the grounds of health, the ceremony of my baptism had to be postponed; and for hours together, I have been told, I lay upon my back, with my knees drawn up and my fingers clenched, in an anguished endeavour to stifle the moans that I was too enfeebled wholly to suppress. Time after time, too, my mother's mother, the aunt that had stood with her at the bottom of the stairs, and various of my mother's sisters would recommend alternative forms of nourishment. But although, at my father's desire, each of these suggestions was given an immediate trial, it was not for two months, and until I had been subjected to a heartbreaking period of starvation, that an affliction abated to which I have since been liable at any moment of undue excitement.

Chastened within, however, as I had been, I was not to escape chastisement without. For no sooner had I begun, in some small measure, to assimilate the food provided for me than I became the victim of an unfortunate skin complaint known, as I am informed, as erythema. This was happily local, but it gave rise to a very profound irritation, and one that proved, as my father has often assured me, to be of a peculiarly obstinate character. Naturally diffident, owing to the site of the affection, to mention it even to the family doctor, my parents exhausted their every resource without procuring the least alleviation. Though for night after night they made it a matter of prayer, my sufferings were pitiful, I have been told, to the last extreme; and almost hourly, from supper-time to breakfast, the darkness was rent with my cries.

Unable at last, owing to his acute sensibilities, to witness my agony any longer, my father was obliged, with the deepest reluctance, to confine himself to a separate bedroom. But it was in this extremity that his almost Quixotic unselfishness shone, if possible, with an added lustre. From the time of his marriage to the day of my birth, and as soon thereafter as the doctor had permitted her to rise, my father had been in the habit of enabling my mother to provide him with an early cup of tea. And this he had done by waking her regularly a few minutes before six o'clock. In view of the fact, however, that he was now occupying a different bedroom, and that, owing to my indisposition, she was awake most of the night, he offered to excuse her should she chance to be asleep at that hour, from the performance of this wifely duty. Needless to say, it was not an offer that she could accept. Indeed, in his heart he had not expected her to do so. And I have even considered the incident, in latter days, as illustrative of a certain weakness in my father's character. But I have never been able to regard it without affection or to forbear mentioning it on appropriate occasions.

That in most respects, however, my father's temperament was an exceptionally unflinching one was amply corroborated by the circumstances attendant upon the choice of my second godfather. This gave rise, as my father has frequently told me, to the most prolonged and anxious discussions, and entailed an enormous amount of correspondence, some of which has been preserved among the family documents. For with his ruthless determination, inherited by myself, to discover and expose every kind of wrong-doing, with his lifelong habit of informing those in authority of any dereliction of duty in themselves and their subordinates, and with the passion for truth that compelled him on every occasion instantly to correct what he deemed the reverse, my father had necessarily but little leisure to cultivate the easy art of friendship. Amongst his acquaintances, indeed, there were but few that even remotely approximated to his standards; and he had found none that his conscience had permitted him to select for the purposes of personal friendship.

It was for this reason that, on the occasion of his marriage, he had dispensed with the services of a best man. And although the vicar had eventually agreed to act as one of my male sponsors, the appointment of a second began to assume the proportions of an almost insoluble problem. It being manifestly impossible to hope for a suitable candidate among such persons as occasionally called at the house, and my father's character having long ago isolated him from his more immediate masculine relatives, he resolved at last to appeal to the public sense of the higher officials of the Church of England.

Nor was the result ungratifying, as various letters still in my possession go to prove. Though unable, owing to so many similar and previously acquired obligations, to accede to my father's suggestion, all of them replied with the greatest courtesy. Thus the Dean of St Paul's wrote in person wishing me every success in life; the Bishop of London trusted that my father's aspirations as to my personal holiness would be realized; while the Archbishop of Canterbury commanded his secretary to express his gratification at the suggestion of an honour that only the exigencies of his position as Primate forbade him to accept. Needless to say, those in charge of the State, whom my father next approached, behaved very differently. Neither the Prime Minister nor the Home Secretary saw fit to reply at all, while the President of the Board of Trade merely expressed a formal regret. And yet in the end, as is so often the case, the solution proved quite a simple one. Turn but a stone, says a poet, and start a wing. And my father did not even need to turn a stone. Sick at heart, he was returning home one night when he suddenly caught sight of himself in a cheese-monger's window. It was as though Providence, he said, had touched him on the shoulder. Whereas he had been blind, he said, then he saw. For a moment the shock was almost too much for him. A member of the constabulary, indeed, actually asked him to move on. But the solution was there, staring him in the face. Involuntarily he raised his hat. He himself was the man.

With my aunt, Mrs Emily Smith, only too eager to be my godmother, everything now seemed to be propitious for the happy consummation of my baptism, and no more earnest or reverent gathering could have been found that day in any Metropolitan church. The vicar being godfather, the actual ceremony was, at my father's suggestion, performed by the senior curate, the junior curate, in deference to my father's position as sidesman, being on the vicar's right hand between him and my mother.

(Continues...)

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 No apology for writing this book 1

An imperative duty under present conditions

Description of my parents and their personal appearances

Description of Mon Repos, Angela Gardens

Long anxiety prior to my birth

Intense joy when at last this takes place

My father's decision as to my Xtian name

Early selection of my first godfather

Chapter 2 Trials of my infancy 7

Varieties of indigestion

I suffer from a local erythema

Instance of my father's unselfishness

Difficulty in providing a second godfather

Unexpected solution of the problem

The ceremony of my baptism

A narrow escape

Was it culpable carelessness? My father transfers his worship to St James-the-Lesser-Still, Peckham Rye

Chapter 3 My parents' studies in the upbringing of children 15

A successful instance of non-vaccination

Further example of my father's consideration for others

My mother's ill-health

My parents engage a charwoman

Her appearance and character

Physical characteristics of her son, Deplorable social result of the war Continued presumption of charwoman's son

I rebuff him

Affection for grey rabbit

Charwoman's son's cannon and the use made of it by him

Scenes of violence and intervention of my father

Intervention of charwoman

A lethargic vicar

Was he also immoral? My father transfers his worship to St fames-the-Least- of-All

Chapter 4 Further years of boyhood and additional crosses 25

Progress in study and music

I excel at the game of Nuts in May

I am to go to Hopkinson House School

But Providence again intervenes

I become a victim of the ring-worm

Devastating effect of an ointment

Mr Balfour Whey and his sons

A brutal County Court judge

But my father obtains damages

Chapter 5 First experiences at Hopkinson House School 39

It is amongst the masters that I hope to find spritual companionship

I do not do so

Apology of Mr Muglington

I am struck by a football

Subsequent apology of Mr Beerthorpe

Degraded habits of my fellow-scholars

A fearful discovery and its sequel

Amazing ineptitude of Mr Lorton

Concerted assault upon my person

I am rescued by my father, who procures a public apology

Chapter 6 Reasons for remaining at Hopkinson House School 51

I pass from boyhood to early young manhood

Expeditions both urban and rural in the company of my dear father

An excellent and little-known diversion

Youthful adventures by sea and land

But what is to be my career leaving school? Various alternatives prayerfully considered

A vision is vouchsafed to us by Providence

A commercial Xtian

My first razor

Chapter 7 A further vision is vouchsafed to us by Providence 61

Mr Chrysostom Lorton and the sources of his wealth

The debt owed to me by Mr Septimus Lorton

Interview with Mr and Mrs Septimus Lorton

Mr Septimus Lorton's disgraceful attitude

My father is compelled to be frank with him

What I discovered in Greenwich Park

Chapter 8 Second interview with Mr Septimus Lorton 75

But now the tables are turned

A pitiful exhibition

My father demands guarantees

He will write a letter to Mrs Chrysostom Lorton

My father's ordeal

When it was dark

Chapter 9 Effect upon my father of his disclosure 81

My Xtian confidence in journeying to Enfield

Paternoster Towers and its mistress

Unfortunate detachment of my posterior trouser-buttons

Triumphant success of my interview

A kindly parlourmaid and her male friend

I secure a position under Mr Chrysostom Lorton

Melancholy death of Silas Whey

Chapter 10 Precautionary measures on entering commercial life 95

I join the N.S.L and the S.P.S.D.T

A crying need in the conduct of prayer-meetings

I join the A.D.S.U

Personal appearance of Ezekiel Stool

Personal appearance of his five sisters

Predicament of Ezekiel Stool on the fifth of November

A timely instance of presence of mind

I am invited to a meal at the Stools' residence

A foreshadowing of sinister events

Chapter 11 Design for my grandfather's tomb 107

Death and interment of Mrs Emily Smith and the aunt that had stood with my mother's mother at the bottom of the stairs

Effect upon my fathers health

Alexander Carkeek and his sons

Arrival home from the Stools

First tidings of the new lectern

My father's interview with the vicar

Curious instance of transposition of consonants

My father rehearses his denunciation

Arrival of Simeon Whey

My father repeats his denunciation

Chapter 12 Breakfast finds us calm but grave 123

My mother is allowed to accompany us to church

My father's clothing and general demeanour

Remark of Simeon Whey on my father's hat

First impression of the new lectern

Unmistakable evidences ofguilt

The vicar's feeble apologia

A devilish device and its disastrous results

I race with Corkran for half-a-crown

My poor father is three times dropped

Chapter 13 Description of the injuries sustained by my father 135

A supremely difficult medical problem

Legal assistance of Mr Balfaur Whey

Infamous decisions and public comments

A quiet church and obliging clergy

Surprising character-growth of Ezekiel

A distasteful proposition generously put forward

Disgusting behaviour of a show-room manager

Chapter 14 Person and character of Mr Archibald Maidstone 145

Irreverent attitude towards the firm's publications

Would-be laxity of two constables

Their tardy performance of an obvious duty

Deplorable condition of my Sunday trousers

Their effect on Miss Botterill and Mr Chrysostom Lorton

The arrival and influence of the Reverend Eugene Cake

Mr Maidstone is dismissed and I succeed him

Complete discomfiture of his three elder children

Chapter 15 Happy years 157

A typical day

Simeon Whey is at last ordained

His first sermon at St Sepulchre's, Balham

Intensive campaign of the A.D.S.U

I meet Miss Moonbeam and call her Mary

Affecting appeal not to leave her in darkness

I promise not to do so

A face to lean on

Will I come again? Adventure on the stage of the Empresses Theatre

Chapter 16 Disappointing attitude of Ezekiel 173

Suggested nuptials of Miss Moonbeam

An occasion for tact and postponement

I am obliged to mite a letter

Ezekiel accompanies me to the Empresses Theatre

We are a little taken aback by the numbers to be rescued

An apparently delightful beverage

I address Miss Moonbeam's friends on the subject of temperance

Ezekiel addresses them on the evils of the drama

We arrange a meeting

Description of meeting

Chapter 17 Profound depression subsequent to port-poisoning 197

An iniquitous plot and its consequences

Insubordination of Miss Botterill

I retire from the firm of Mr Chrysostom Lorton

A crushing rejoinder and its repetition

Second journey to Enfield

Transformation of Mrs Chrysostom's boudoir

Unexpected repentance of Mrs Chrysostom

Unfortunate results of this for myself

Fruitless termination of interview

Chapter 18 Physical reaction following my interview with Mrs Chrysostom 211

Reception of a wreath from the Maidstones

Moving excerpt from Simeon's diary

I decide to marry one of Ezekiel's sisters

Interview with Ezekiel and his deplorable language

Tact is selected to become my bride

Tragic return to Mon Repos

I fall unconscious, parallel to my father

Chapter 19 Commencement of my life's afternoon 223

My father's eight sisters-in-law return to Wales

Astounding attitude of my mother

Physical effect thereof on myself I move to Stoke Newington

Further parochial activities

Simeon Whey obtains a living

I move to Hornsey and become a Churchwarden

Complete decline of Ezekiel Stool

Birth of my son

A happy augury