Hello, old FOG (Friend Of the Gleaner.) When last we met, I told you what I’d learned — not very much — about the American melodramatist J. B. Studley, whose life was now and again glorious, was always momentous and was, at the end, hard. Why should it have been otherwise? An actor’s days are fraught with peril — those considering the profession should take that into account, forewarned being forearmed and all — and some of those hazards are no less fatal for being caged. This is the text of an article that appeared Time Magazine in November, 1929.
That was a challenging epoch for parrots and those who fancied them. As if the stock market crash hadn’t been enough, there was a global panic brought on by a worldwide occurrence of psittacosis — parrot fever, it was called, or parrot disease, or parrot plague — because those stricken, some mortally, had been in contact with pet tropical birds, parrots most usually. Importation of birds was severely restricted and concerned citizens took extreme prophylactic measures to avoid contagion. Pharmacists were assailed by customers coming into their shops — a bird in hand, none in the bush — demanding that the creature, hale and hearty and chatty though it was, be put down. A cracker might have been what Polly craved, but chloroform was what Polly got. Eventually, the panic subsided, but not before some dreadful tales were told.
Today’s list — and, spoiler alert, drowned parrots figure in it, as you’ll see if you read through to the end — is in the form of a numbered inventory, taken from a story I transcribed from The Caledonian Mercury, December 30, 1767: 256 years ago from the day of this posting. The news came from Barnstable, Devonshire, and it pertains to a shipwreck that occurred on December 8 of that same year.
. . northward of the bar on Braunton Burrow Warren, a large Dutch ship, about 600 tons burden, called the Aurora, that mounted 12 carriage guns, besides swivels, having 24 men on board, 13 whereof were saved, and 21 drowned; amongst whom were the first captain, doctor, etc. She was bound from Surninam to Amsterdam, but mistaking, in the thick weather, the channel, took the island of Lundy to be Portland. She was laden with coffee, etc. great part of which was carried off by the populace, and washed away by the sea; only 14 puncheons were saved, and that damaged with salt water: she had 1100 dollars on board, besides guineas, and 36 shilling pieces in a bag, which the crew threw into the long boat, together with several other valuable things which came on shore, but were plundered by the populace the same night. There were upwards of 40 parrots in cages on board, which were all drowned.”
When I was in Tokyo, back in the spring, I wandered past the Owl Cafe, which is a working restaurant that doubles as a wild bird rescue outfit; I believe there are two of these in the greater Tokyo area. There are many, many birds there confined, all of them there owing to some injury: owls are in the majority, but there were other raptors, and a few parrots, vividly feathered macaws, some with bad cases of moult.
Most of the Owl Cafe inmates, I think, are beyond the kind of repair that would allow for the possibility of release. It is, of course, extremely sad, but also fascinating, and I was glad of the opportunity to see owls at such close quarters. Here’s a video I took of one of the owls and, offscreen, you can hear a chatty parrot. I think — about 7 seconds in — it’s asking for “Hiroshi.” If there happen to be any Japanese speakers who could confirm this, I’d be in your debt.
On the long voyage home, about 10 hours, I treated myself to the plane’s Wifi and got caught up in the personal ads as they appeared over two months, November and December, in a London daily, the Morning Post, in the year 1892. What I transcribed at 39,000 feet makes up the balance of this posting. Looking at them again — I’d forgotten I had them until I was sorting through my various notes — I find them as absorbing as I did at first contact. In relatively few words so much drama emerges, and so many questions! What’s the deal with A.B.C. and C.B.A. who seem to be using the personals to dicker over the price of a service one is rendering the other? Do Sunshine and H-R ever find happiness; likewise Isobel and Your Loving Baby? Will Duke and C.C.R. manage to meet for a drink? Maybe in the same bar as Eugenie and P.M.N.? Are they, in fact, the same boozing couple? What about Emma and James, and their cute little in-joke about Christmas reading? Who the hell is Pas de Quatre? Is he the same lunatic petitioner as “Ruin,” and “Hopeless Idiot?” (I’d bet on it.) Why is everyone badgering Elaine? And Candelabra? What’s the deal with Candelabra? Mercy. Maybe I’m alone in thinking this as engrossing as it is charming, but I hope you’ll find as much pleasure and intrigue here as I did and do. You’ll have your own questions and / or speculations, and I’d be pleased to hear them. Thanks for reading, cheers, BR
1 Nov 1892. MY DEAR DARLING. — The dreadful misery to be separated from you; you have never been out of my loving thoughts, dear. For many months: you are the only happiness I have ever had or desired. My dear, sweet darling you love me a little, you do not know how dearly I love you, or the torture to control it. Forgive me, dear, I love you. I desire nothing but you, and without your love life is useless. — PAS DE QUATRE.
3 Nov 1892. PAS DE QUATRE. — Will you insert your initials in this paper that “Dear Darling” may see there be no mistake?
5 Nov 1892. I will change my ring to left hand in case we have no chance to speak in safety, so you cannot mistake me. My dear darling, be kind and show me in some way you recognise it, and do not chill me. The misery is too much to bear. Are you cold to make me keep control? — PAS DE QUATRE.
5 Nov 1892. C. C. R. — I will be at City Lounge, Ye Old King’s Head, Old Jewry, at twelve today. If anything should prevent your coming send me a wire there. Am dying to see you again and to have the honour of paying for a bottle of ye olde, etc. Hope this will catch your eye.
9 Nov 1892. DUKE - I went to Ye Old King’s Head in the Old Jewry as requested at twelve o’clock, but you had just left. I had a bottle of Ye Olde and it made a fair substitute and consolation for your absence. Are you in town for long? If so meet me there today at twelve, but don’t be so prompt in leaving. I shall smoke a cigar there for about half an hour. — C. C. R.
9 Nov 1892. No one assumed your mind. It was because they presumed that I left them. You might have trusted your best friends. Anyhow, there is nothing to justify the setting up of an impossible standard, and therefore, I was right in quashing the whole business. Five minutes conversation would have explained everything. You have done your best. I have done mine, and I have my reward— RUIN.
10 Nov. PAS DE QUATRE. — One who asked for insertion of initials mistook pseudonym, and is not “Dear Darling” of Pas de Quatre.
16 Nov 1892. EMMA, darling, please meet me on Saturday, 1.30, at address which will be found in Christmas double number of “Society,” next to the tale, “A Dead Man’s Secret,” by Joseph Hatton, on page 1,253. The telegram was sent to Frank Gordon. Till death, your own JAMES.
17 Nov 1892. JAMES, dear, please refer to “Beelzebub’s Secret,” by James Greenwood, in the Christmas double number of “Society.” 14 - 15 be 49 - 50 - 51 stated. Yours till death, EMMA.
18 Nov 1892. EMMA, darling, do not come, for reasons which you will find in first sentence of sixth paragraph in “The Rival Confessors,” by Sister Agnes, on Page 1,273 of Christmas number of “Society.” — JAMES.
22 Nov 1892. SUNSHINE. — The best of good wishes to you, dearest. Possibly unable to send them in any other way. As always, yours, H.
24 Nov 1892. SUNSHINE. — I could not believe my eyes when I saw your dear message, but this heading and your initials leave no doubt. It is the first gleam of joy since your last, which broke me up, as I saw that my love was only giving you pain. You spoke so sadly of grieving for me that I found the courage for your sake and determined to bear my yearning in silence. But now I must say good bye, as I am arranging to return where I was last winter. I may not see you again, dearest, but remember ever that your friendship has brightened and ennobled my life, and that my whole heart blesses you for it. Which of the papers do you take?
25 Nov 1892. SUNSHINE. — Some one has calmly appropriated my message. You will have understood good wishes. Though no wretched compromise exists, I still hope to hear sometimes. I sign first and last letter of nom de poste, Thine, H — R.
30 Nov 1892. WHY are you never in the High Street by the Fruit Shop at 5.15. — A.
1 Dec 1892. SUNSHINE. — Would have been glad if letter had told all about yourself. While there is life there is remembrance; don’t dream it can be otherwise. Much to tell. Hope you may wish soon to see me. It ought to be easy. — H — R.
1 Dec 1892. CANDELABRA. — Just returned from Australia. When shall I see you again? — Write to the Club.
1 Dec 1892. If this should meet the eye of T. B. anxious to know if well. LITTLE MINX, North. — Address Kelley’s Library, Shaftesbury-avenue.
05 Dec 1892. SUNSHINE. — Your information incorrect. Do you realise (sic) what banishment means? Play your own hand, but release from promise made under happier circumstances. More merciful and simpler. — H. — R.
07 Dec 1892. SUNSHINE. — Am entirely in your hands. Don’t make life too hard. Without light it is existence only. Hope your want of me will induce you to see me some time soon. — H. — R.
07 Dec 1892. VIO. K. — Away next week, but not if there is the slightest chance of day’s hunting at F. S. before Christmas. Answer at once. Will leave things as you say next week. — PANSY.
07 Dec 1892. A.B.C. — Safely received; everything quite understood. Ready about 14th December. Should like to write to you in a few days about further work. — C. B. A.
09 Dec 1892. ELAINE. — If F.S. really impracitcable, seems useless remaining. But not yet decided, and await suggestions. Be explicit. Your original plan seems best. Not P.O. When? Why never any beginnings? Just returned California. — MONA
12 Dec 1892. VIO. — Quite understand. Explicit referred to L. and P., not F. S. at all. Will leave on Wednesday at cloak-room and terminus you first said on way through Dublin, if you agree. Questions unknown. — ELAINE.
13 Dec 1892. EUGENIE M. — I long to see you, darling. Sorrow at your absence has been drowned by Ackerman-Laurance’s; you know the wet.
13 Dec 1892. ISOBEL — No answer either to letter or paper. What has happened? Answer through London address or paper.Is there no chance of your being in town before Christmas? Is so mind you let me know. — Your Loving Baby.
14 Dec 1892. A.B.C. — Just received letter; wire not received; am quite willing and able to complete whole thing, but wish to consult you by letter about one or two details. Will lose no time. C.B.A.
16 Dec 1892. A.B.C. — Ready. Further work arranged for. Complete in about 10 days, but not at figure you named. Will cost me £17, to be paid before delivery; balance of offer not sufficient remuneration. Will use my own judgment as to details under your instructions. Six or more copies now if wished; cost very little more. Is numbering of pages in print to be in rotation, as is usual? C. B.A.
17 Dec 1892 . P. M. N. — Not my fault. You did not write. I am still thine. Under the clock, Charing-cross. 12.50 p.m., Thursday. We can get Dry Royal at H. R. — Thy EUGENIE.
17 Dec 1892. MY DARLING. — I love you. My love for you will never die. Am only willing to resign it for your dear sake; for you, darling, for you: and will bear all that human being may. But why wear the tokens of the love you gave, yet show, when alone, such icy coldness of manner and words that stab my heart? You are free; have no fear. Life is valueless; but to lose it would grieve you, so blameless. I bless you, my dear darling. Who can fight against Fate?
19 Dec 1892. MY HEART’S DELIGHT. — Just seen friend who saw you, it has intensified my misery. If only you had spoken one word of remembrance to her. This silence is killing me by inches. My heart is breaking, breaking. “Times” no good, so look here, always. — Your hopeless IDIOT.
21 Dec 1892. CANDELABRA. — Unfortunately must leave London to-day for fortnight. Can I write? Send answer to Club.
22 Dec 1892. Vio. — No, not mine. Could send or bring parcel tomorrow. If so, wire to C. early. Try and manage tomorrow. Best love. — ACORN
27 Dec 1892. A.B.C. - 2.30 p.m., 24th. — All received safely and perfectly understood. Too late for Monday’s issue. May rely upon absolute secrecy and confidence. Did not think yours, 17th, required reply before. Telegram risky. Cost of last 9s., this much more. Very much regret delay, but not my fault. Pr., after accepting work, has returned it. I believe he underestimates cost, which I considered low, or had other reasons. Have given orders to another, who has promised to lose no time. Holidays interfere; costs will be £24; rather high but reasonable considering nature and about 109 pages. Have had good deal of work and trouble, owing to restrictions, &c. C.B.A.
28 Dec 1892. My own dear darling. The happy Christmas. It is next my heart. I’ve fought vainly the wretched selfishness. My dear, dear darling. I am powerless to resign the sweet love I so hunger and thirst for. You are my world and absorb all. I know no other human being or desire. Can you forgive me, dear? You will never now let us be parted, darling? That dreadful fear that grips my heart. You know how to write safely, if need. My dear, sweet love, you are never one moment out of my loving thoughts. I recognize all yours.
29 Dec 1892. Frederick G. — Ocean. Stan. Wool, etc. Is that clear? I want to speak to you 3 o’cl Thursday Cemetery Gates or get acquainted Sat. aft. Grev. dances Add. Hall. My brother will turn my brain again imprisoning me if I advertise, he says. I therefore accept you. — L. F. A. B. G.
30 Dec 1892. ISOBEL — card and other things came safely. Many thanks. You said it was best for us not to meet. I fancied you were tired of me, and yet you send me these things. I must meet you again, and it is for you to let me know when. I am always at your call. Write me a nice letter, there is no danger for you. — Your loving Baby.
31 Dec 1892. Elaine. — Delighted to receive. Hope to see you very soon. If to-morrow wire but not to C. Arrange where and when. Take care of yourself. V. K.
31 Dec 1892. No one assumed your mind. It was because they presumed that I left them. You might have trusted your best friends. Anyhow, there is nothing to justify the setting up of an impossible standard, and therefore, I was right in quashing the whole business. Five minutes conversation would have explained everything. You have done your best. I have done mine, and I have my reward— RUIN.
I wish I had thought of posting such missives -- making them all up, of course -- in the weekly Wadena News when I worked there and the readership, subscribers, and advertisers were diminishing rapidly thanks to Facebook and the Internet. They would have increased the circulation substantially and saved the 108-year-old paper. Shucks. Too little, too late.