A NEW BOOK: Small Talk

UNCENSORED RECOLLECTIONS—Anonymous — Lippincott — ($4.50). Degrees of anonymity are as thick as the classic leaves that strewed the brooks in Vallombrosa. Some authors veil their names for a variety of excellent reasons, among which is, probably the most frequent, the desire to increase a book’s circulation by preying on the public curiosity. Other authors have less excellent motives, and sometimes don the domino of anonymity solely for protection.

Certain critics, who shall also be name less for protection’s sake, have heralded Uncensored Recollections as one of the greatest contributions to Continental biography of the decade, if not of the Century. In point of fact, it is nothing but a book of gossip, biographically useless. It will make the reader wish that the author’s memory had been a little more accurate and that someone had censored the product. It does, however, bring up a nice point of honor: is it compatible with the conduct of gentlemen to publish to the world the indiscretions of and essentially private details about his friends and acquaintances, most of whom are dead, or to reproduce mere club talk about them? The reader must answer. Yet the book is interesting in its numerous more harmless parts.

Excerpt :

Of Queen Victoria. “Old Lady Ely used to say that Lord Fife was one of the few men who could with impunity quiz, as it were, the Queen— to use a vulgarism, get the best of her. On one occasion, at dinner at Windsor, when Lord Fife was mopping up his soup with much noise, he suddenly paused, looked up and said in his very broad Scotch: ‘Yer Majesty will be pleased to hear that I hae given up brandy and sodas!’ ‘I’m glad to hear it, Lord Fife,’ said the Queen. ‘I’m sure you’ll be better for it.’ ‘Thank you, ma’am, I think I shall; and besides I find Scotch whiskey and seltzer an excellent substitute.’ ”

Of King Edward (as Prince of Wales). “Speaking of beautiful Lady Mary Craven. . . . The Prince of Wales wrote her a charming and affectionate letter, calling her ‘Mary’ tout court, saying he was coming to tea with her on such and such an afternoon, and hoped she would be alone so that they could have a nice little téte-à-téte chat. This missive somehow got into the hands of her father. . . . When the day and hour for the tea arrived and the Prince came hoping to find ‘dear Mary’ alone, he found the old Earl in the full dress uniform of an admiral, cocked hat in hand, ready to receive him at the top of the red-carpeted steps leading from the street. . . . The Prince in after years often told this story himself. . . .”

Of Plon Plon (Prince Napoleon, second son of ex-King of Westphalia Jerome Bonaparte), so-called because that is supposed to represent the noise of a rifle, and the Prince was said to have funked crossing the Alma during the Crimean War in going to the relief of the gallant Bosquet. . . . once found his match in Esther Guimon.

. . . One night the Prince was supping at Guimon’s house in the Rue Chateaubriand with Gramont and Caderousse, Vallombrosa, Prince d’Hairn, and others; and when everyone started to leave ‘Plon Plon’ calmly announced his intention of staying the night there; and the fair Esther, who was then supposed to be under the protection of Duke Ratibon, made no objection. In the morning, “the Prince was in one of his worst fits of bad temper and very insulting.”

Plon Plon: “‘I can’t imagine what the Devil can possibly have induced me to stay.'”

Esther: “‘I am sorry you should say so, Monseigneur.’ ”

Plon Plon: ” ‘Are you, indeed? Not so sorry as I am. Why, I can’t imagine what that ass Ratibon can possibly see in you to admire !’ ”

Esther: ” ‘Oh, mon Prince, I can’t tell you how sorry I am to have you say that, for so far as my experience goes you are the most desirable man in Paris; you have everything . . . except . . .”

Plon Plon: “Except what?”

Esther: “Oh, I can’t tell your Highness—I dare not.”

Plon Plon: “But I insist. I must know.”

Esther: “Your Highness would never forgive me—I dare not tell you.”

Plon Plon: “But you shall, you must, I insist!”

Esther: “Oh, I dare not … besides I cannot prove what I say . . . you can never perceive it yourself . . . your courtiers will lie to you about it; and, when you ask them, swear it isn’t true.”

Plon Plon : “Look here, my dear little Esther, please forgive me for all the rude things I said to you just now; and please, I beg of you, tell me very frankly and plainly … I faithfully promise not to be angry . . .”

Esther : “Well, Monseigneur, as you command me … I will speak out very plainly, and I tell you, brutalement, mon Prince, your breath is intolerably offensive. . . (Vous puez de la gueule!).” [More literally, you stink at the mouth — your breath stinks].

“The Prince jumped up like a lunatic and rushed out of the house . . . and for months and months after was breathing in everyone’s face — man, woman and child — and asking : ‘Is there anything wrong with my breath?’ and then groaning in spirit when the invariable reply came: ‘Nothing whatever, Monseigneur,’ for he remembered how truly Esther had predicted that never can Princes hope to hear the truth in such matters.”