Weekday Stories: A Little Matter of ‘Cocksure’

-

As related by Bertram Wooster

I say, Jeeves, our old pal Hormazd, fine fellow, first-rate chap, but occasionally inquisitive to a fault, has just fired off a query about the origin of the word “cocksure.” Says he admires the purity of my English, which is dashed decent of him, but now expects me to explain the thing like a walking dictionary.

Jeeves, as ever, looked thoughtful. “Indeed, sir? If I may, there exists a rather instructive anecdote on that very subject. Possibly apocryphal, but most edifying.”

“Carry on, Jeeves,” I said, adjusting the old cravat.

“Well, sir, it concerns a certain Earl Hugo-James Fearnley-Whittingstall and his good lady, the Countess Emma-Kate, residents of the stately Woburn Abbey. It was a household distinguished by its hyphenation — both parties double-barrelled, and even the butler, a Theodore-John, so named as if the thing were compulsory.”

“Hyphens all round, what?” I said.

“Precisely, sir. However, despite this abundance of punctuation, the Earl was afflicted with a deficiency of, shall we say, vigour. The Countess, being a woman of decisive nature, confided her predicament to the butler.”

“Courageous move,” I said.

“Indeed, sir." The exchange is recorded thus. The Countess sighed, ‘Theodore-John, the Earl’s… instrument refuses to play.’

The butler, maintaining perfect decorum, replied, ‘Your ladyship, there is in the county a Chinese physician who dispenses a tonic distilled from a young male chicken, a cockerel. The substance is reputed to revive a gentleman’s… enthusiasm.’

The Countess, hopeful but uncertain, asked, ‘But are you sure, Theodore-John?’

“‘Yes, your ladyship,’ he replied solemnly, ‘cocksure.’” 

“Ha!” I said, “Capital, Jeeves! That explains everything!”

“Thank you, sir. Needless to add, the potion proved most effective, the Countess was all smiles, and the word entered polite speech, though the precise circumstances were, understandably, omitted from the Oxford English Dictionary.”

“Jeeves,” I said, “you’re a marvel. I shall forward this explanation to Hormazd forthwith.”

“I endeavour to give satisfaction, sir,” said Jeeves.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular Posts

Weekend Musings: What One Life Taught Me About Peace

-
Image
  Remembering Albert Schweitzer For reasons I cannot fully explain, Albert Schweitzer came back to me recently. My first encounter with him was in childhood, when I was barely ten or twelve. I remember a book — blue in colour — far beyond my reading ability at that age. I remember his photograph inside. I remember that it spoke of peace and of service to humanity. I understood neither in any meaningful way, yet something stayed. Perhaps children recognise sincerity before they understand ideas. Life moved on. Over five decades, his name would surface now and then — in passing references, in conversations, in lists of Nobel Peace Prize winners — but I never found the time, or perhaps the inner readiness, to go deeper. And yet, the impression never faded. Today, that unfinished encounter seems to ask for closure. Albert Schweitzer was many things: theologian, philosopher, musician, doctor. But what sets him apart is not achievement; it is choice. At a time when intellectual recognit...
Read more

Weekend Musings: The Leap of the Frog — A Moment in Haiku

-
Image
 An old silent pond— a frog jumps into the pond, splash! Silence again. This weekend’s Musings arose from an invitation to reflect on these lines by Matsuo Bashō. What began as an invitation soon turned into a gentle challenge, as it became clear that the poem invites many ways of seeing. It can even invite silence, as we honour the stillness of the pond. The image is simple, almost bare. A still pond. A sudden leap. A brief splash. And then silence again. Nothing is explained, nothing is concluded. What is offered is a moment, complete in itself. Yet, being a Musing, I must still arrive at my own reading. In these lines, Bashō draws us into a world where there is no past or future — both constructs of the mind, or the ego. He lives entirely moment to moment, in full awareness of it. The past becomes nothing more than memory, a storehouse of conditioning, biases, and habits. The future is merely the drama projected from that past. In such a state of awareness, action is no longer ...
Read more

Election Day Musing: My Keemti Vote

-
Image
Having just completed my duty, or shall we say my right, by casting my vote, a few observations and thoughts came to mind. The walk to the polling booth is something I take almost every few days, so I was not expecting anything eventful to happen. But I was in for a surprise. Unknown people were greeting me and smiling. One particular person, whom I had neither met nor seen before, actually called out my name and said, “Mahimkar saheb, 4 number lakshat theva.” I noticed regular shopkeepers and party workers standing in groups, and it was not difficult to guess their affiliations. Another thing I noticed was a white band across the road with “200 meters” written on it. Closer to the center, it read “100 meters”. When I had seen this a few days earlier, I had not known what it was for, but today it became clear. Strangely, I noticed one more thing—the streets were extra clean, as if one day’s clean roads would influence our decision! The center itself had standard security measures, and...
Read more