Frivolities, Especially Addressed to Those Who Are Tired of Being Serious — Story, Setting & Ideas
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She looked at me for a moment, scrutinizingly, as if desirous of learning if what I said was credible; then, without another word, moved off.
I had succeeded in closing the door just as there came another rap upon the knocker. I reopened it, to find myself confronted by another of the unemployed.
"I ask your pardon, guv'nor, but seeing an advertisement about a purse as was found, I thought I'd just come round to see if it might happen to be mine. Mine wasn't a leather purse, nor yet it wasn't a shammy leather, nor yet it wasn't one of them sealskin kind of things."
As soon as he said that I suspected that this was a friend of the other unemployed, from whom he had recently gathered certain data.
"Mine was more one of them sort of bag kind."
"Well----" He fixed me with his gaze. If he had been acquainted with the fact that images are photographed upon our eyes, I might have suspected him of an intent to decipher the image of the purse in mine. "Was this here purse you found tied round the top?"
He read the answer in my eyes.
"No, I can't say as how mine was; but I thought as how this here one you found might have been--some purses are, you know."
Unless I erred he was endeavouring to consider what sort of purse that purse might be, his knowledge of the varieties of that article being limited. He taxed my patience.
"If you have lost a purse, my man, be so good as to describe it without delay. I can't stop here all the morning."
"Well, as I was a-saying, it was one of them sort of bag kind."
"Then it's not the one I found."
Without more ado I slammed the door in his face. I went in to breakfast. As I was sitting down there came a single knock. Saunders turned to leave the room to answer it.
"One moment, Saunders. I don't know if I mentioned to you that, the day before yesterday, I found a purse?"
"Well, I did, and I'm beginning to wish that I hadn't. I've inserted an advertisement in to-day's papers to the effect that the owner may have it on applying to me. I've had five applicants within five minutes--three of them rank impostors. I'm rather inclined to think that the person who has just knocked is one of them come back again. I doubt if he ever had a purse in his life--he certainly never had the one I've found. Tell him if he doesn't take himself away at once I'll send for the police."
Saunders vanished. There was the sound of voices--one of them belonging to Saunders, the other, undoubtedly, to that member of the unemployed. He seemed to be shouting at Saunders, and Saunders, in a dignified way, seemed to be shouting back at him. Presently there was a lull. Saunders reappeared.
"Well, has the fellow gone?"
"No, sir. And he says he isn't going."
"Did you give him to understand that I should send for the police?"
"He says he should like to see you send for the police. He says that the police will soon show you if you can rob a poor man of his purse. He's a most impudent fellow. As for the purse which you found being his, sir, I don't believe he knows what a purse is. He's a regular vagabond!"
"I quite agree with you, Saunders--quite! That is my opinion of the man precisely."
"There are five other persons who wish to see you. Three of them have cards, and two of them haven't."
He held out three cards on a waiter, taking my breath away.
"Five, Saunders! Where are these people?"
"I won't see anyone till I've had my breakfast. I'm not going to have all my habits disarranged simply because I happen to have found a purse. I ought to have stated that no applications were to be made till after twelve; I never dreamt that people would have come at this time of day. Show the people with the cards into the drawing-room, and leave the others in the hall. And, Saunders, it would be a little obvious, perhaps, to remove the hats and umbrellas from before their very faces, but keep a sharp eye on them!"
I glanced at the trio of visiting-cards, as, once more, I made an attempt to continue my meal. "Mrs. Chillingby-Harkworth, Pagoda Mansions, S.W.," "Colonel Fitzakarley Beering," "George Parkins." The idea of a number of entire strangers being turned loose in my drawing-room was one I did not relish. I felt I ought to have stated that applications in writing would alone have been attended to.
I had imagined that, by not taking my find to the police-station, I should be saving myself trouble. I perceived that my imagination had been at fault. I had had no notion that such a number of people had lost their purses. A constant fusillade was being kept up on the knocker. I might have been giving a fashionable assembly, and requested the guests to arrive in time for breakfast. All at once there was a violent ringing at the drawing-room bell.
In came Saunders with a stack of cards on a tray and some telegrams.
"Well, Saunders, many people here?"
"More than twenty inside the house, and I don't know how many there are outside--I know the pavement's getting blocked. The drawing-room is full, and the hall is crammed. Queer ones some of them are; they don't look to me as if they were the sort to lose their purses. And now the lady whose card I brought up to you has rung the bell, and says that she insists on seeing you at once."
"Show her up, and, when I ring, show her down again. Then send them up one after the other. I'll get rid of them as fast as I can. And, Saunders, if ever you find a purse lose it again directly, and don't breathe a word of it to anyone!"
In came a lady, looking every inch a Mrs. Chillingby-Harkworth--tall, portly, middle-aged, richly dressed. As she eyed me through a pair of long-handled spy-glasses her volubility was amazing.
"May I inquire your name, sir?"
"Burley is my name, madam."
"Then, Mr. Burley, I have to inform you I was never treated with so much indignity before. I come here in answer to an advertisement, at great personal inconvenience to myself, and I am shown into a room with a number of most extraordinary characters; and one person, who, I am sure, was the worse for drink, asks me the most impertinent questions, and when I appeal for protection to another individual, he tells me that he has enough to do in attending to his own business without interfering with other people's, and I have positively to ring the bell twice before I can receive any proper attention."
"I am sorry that you should have suffered any unpleasantness in my house. May I ask if you have lost a purse?"
"I can't say I have--at least, not for years. I only lost one purse in my life, and that was when I was quite a child--I've always taken too much care of my things to lose them. But the friend of a niece of mine, who was staying with me a week or two ago, took her little boy to the Zoological Gardens, and she lost her purse. She hadn't the faintest notion where or how, and when I saw the advertisement I thought I would call and see if it was hers."
"May I ask you to describe the purse which your friend lost?"
"My good sir, I can't do anything of the kind. I only saw it for a moment in her hand as she was going out. You mustn't ask me to perform impossibilities."
"Perhaps your friend could describe it."
"Of course she could, if she were here, but she isn't; she's at the other end of the country. I've come to look at the purse which you have found, don't I tell you, and wasted a whole morning in doing so. I daresay I shall be able to form a pretty shrewd idea as to whether it is hers, as those who know me best will tell you. My sense of observation has always been exceedingly keen."
"I am afraid that that is what I cannot do. According to your own statement you have not lost a purse. I am unable to produce the one which I have found until I am furnished with a satisfactory description by the actual loser."
"Good gracious, my good man, you don't mean to say that after bringing me here, and after what I have gone through, you refuse to show me the purse which you have actually advertised?"
"Possibly your friend will place herself in communication with me. Saunders, show this lady out."
I fancy she was so taken aback by my manner that for the moment she was speechless. Anyhow, she went, and regained the use of her tongue when she got outside. I heard her rating Saunders soundly as she went downstairs. A young man came next, with something about him which smacked of a provincial town.
"My name's Parkins. You've got a pretty crowd downstairs. I didn't expect this sort of thing, or I wouldn't have come. A lot of Johnnies seem to be on the prowl for a purse. Was the one you found plain leather, with a single pocket, and three fivers inside?"
"Not the least like it."
"Oh! The fact is, I'm up in town for an holiday, and the night before last I went on the razzle, and some Johnny boned my purse, and I thought you might have got it."
I do not know what he meant, or if he intended to insult me--he seemed to be a simple sort of youth--but he was gone before I had a chance of asking him. He was followed by an elderly gentleman, whom I had reason to suppose, before I had got rid of him, was either a seasoned liar, or more or less insane. He seated himself--uninvited by me--crossed his legs, and nursed his silk hat and umbrella.
"I suppose it is a purse you've found?"
"Of course it is. Have you lost one?"
"It isn't a Gladstone bag?"
"A Gladstone bag?" I was a little dazed by my efforts to grasp the man's meaning, and the question was such an absurd one.
"I take it that if it had been a Gladstone bag I should have mentioned it in my advertisement. I am still able to distinguish between the one and the other."
"Nor a silk umbrella with a silver mount and a crest on top, like this?"
He held out the one he had been holding.
I stiffened my back, suspecting him of a humorous intention.
"My time is valuable, as, having just come from downstairs, you must be aware. May I ask if I am indebted for the pleasure of your presence here to the fact of your having lost a purse?"
"_A_ purse? On my soul and honour, sir, in my time I've lost hundreds--hundreds! Positively hundreds!"
I believe I gasped--he spoke with an airy indifference as if that kind of thing were commonplace.
"As I was saying to some of those fellows downstairs, if there's a man in England who has lost more things than I have, I should like to meet him. It's a genius I have; as sure as I get a thing I lose it. And the more it costs, the more it's lost. As for purses, they're my strongest point. I suppose I lost more than a score last year, and already more than a dozen this. Only last week my wife bought a steel chain with a steel purse at the end of it. She chained it round me. If you will believe me, sir, the very next day I went to a Turkish bath and left it there--never set eyes upon it since. I take it it isn't that purse you've found?"
"Nor a large square trunk, iron-bound, weighing about two tons, which I left on the Boulogne Quay a fortnight last Thursday?"
"It is not that, either. Pardon me if I appear to interrupt you, but, since you seem to have been unfortunate on so large a scale, I fear I must ask you to go home and have a list printed of the purses which you have lost at different times, and send it to me at your leisure. I shall then be able to perceive if it is one of them which I have found. But I beg you will not include in it any ironbound trunks. Good-day."
I rang the bell; the man sat still.
"It isn't only trunks and purses which I lose--I lose everything. The day before yesterday I went into the City to buy groceries; filled two great parcels four feet square; had them put with me into the cab so that I might keep them well in sight; got out on the road to have a drink; when I had had it got into the wrong cab; never discovered the mistake till I reached my own doorstep. Those groceries haven't yet come to hand----"
"These anecdotes----"
"Excuse me, I'll tell you another thing I've lost. Six months ago I lost my wife. Took her for a run on the Continent; on the way home dined at a restaurant on the Boulevards; went out to buy a cigar; forgot all about my wife; left her eating an ice; came over by the night boat; never noticed she was missing till I was between the sheets in bed." He paused, as if to meditate. "She wasn't a dead loss; turned up afterwards, as I've reason to remember."
Whether the man was or was not mad, or whether he was merely amusing himself at my expense, is more than I can say. We had the greatest difficulty in getting rid of him. By the time I had interviewed another dozen applicants I came to the conclusion that, if I had to go through much more of that kind of thing, my brain would turn. One red-headed man came into the room with a huge portfolio under his arm. Before I could stop him he had unfolded it before my astonished eyes.
"I have here one of the finest works ever issued from the press. It is a universal gazetteer and general encyclopædia of information, and contains 22,000 more references than any other work of the kind which has been previously produced. It is most superbly illustrated, in the most lavish manner, by the greatest artists, two or more full-page illustrations to each part, besides innumerable smaller illustrations, splendid maps, and magnificent coloured pictures, which are quite worthy of being framed. It is issued in monthly parts price sevenpence, and with the first part is presented a free gift----"
It was all I could do to prevent myself kicking him downstairs. He was not by any means the only offender in this direction. One young woman, after beating about the bush in a manner which, although I was becoming familiar with it, was none the less maddening, explained that she had come to solicit contributions towards providing a day in the country for some ragamuffins at the other end of the town.
The worst of it was that, though I scampered through the applicants as fast as ever they would let me, the number of them, instead of diminishing, increased. The clamour of their voices filled the house. Saunders and the maids were becoming alarmed--for the matter of that so was I. The people swarmed into the house like flies. The downstair rooms were full, the hall was blocked, the stairway choked, a continually increasing crowd was on the pavement. Everyone wanted to see me at once. Judging from the noise quarrels were frequent. I had heard of the astonishing number of the applications which are received for an advertised vacant clerkship; judging from results I might have advertised not for one clerk, but for half a dozen.
"I think," suggested Saunders, pale, though heated, "that we had better send for the police."
I had just disposed of a man who, after explaining that he had lost a purse something like twelve months ago, had assured the crowd, from the top of the stairs, that I was a colourable imitation of a thief, because I had declined to show him the one which I had found a couple of days before. He had been followed by an acidulated-looking female, who, I felt certain, was a tough morsel, and who was eyeing me, as Saunders spoke, as if I had been a convict at the least.
"Why? Are the people misbehaving?"
Saunders's face was more eloquent than his words.
"I don't believe there'll be much furniture left in the drawing-room if something isn't done. Cook's locked herself in the kitchen, and some of the people have gone downstairs--a pretty sort they are! If they aren't in the plate cupboard, they're in the pantry."
This was pleasant hearing. Before I could speak the acidulated lady--proving that my diagnosis of her character had not been unfounded--answered for me.
"And serve you quite right too! I believe that the whole affair's a swindle. You ought to be made to suffer. I don't believe you've found a purse at all."
"My dear madam, I assure you that I have!"
"Then why don't you let any of the poor creatures who have lost their purses have so much as a sight of it? If you have found a purse, why don't you show it to them like an honest man?" I sighed--the logic of people who had lost their purses was wonderful. "As for me, I'm not going through the farce of describing the purse I lost, because I know very well you haven't got it; but I'll tell you this--I've come all the way from Hackney, and I've wasted a day, and I don't mean to leave this house till you've paid me my expenses. I'll teach you to play tricks with innocent people! And"--she suddenly raised her voice--"if other people take my advice they will insist upon having their expenses paid them too!"
Before Saunders or I could interpose she had thrown the door wide open, and was addressing her, by now, excited audience, as if to the manner born.
"My good people, I am Sarah Eliza Warren, of Greenbush Villa, Hackney, and, like yourselves, I have been brought to this house by what seems to me to amount to false pretences. I don't believe that a purse has been found at all. If you take my advice you will do as I am doing--you will insist on being compensated for your loss of time, and for your out-of-pocket expenditure!"
I plainly perceived that further argument was useless. The idea of compensating that motley gathering for effecting a burglarious entry on to my premises was one which was too terrible to contemplate.
I threw up the window.
"Police! police!" I shouted.
A solitary policeman was in sight. Considering that the street in front of my house was rendered practically impassable by the concourse of people and of vehicles, the wonder was that the whole force had not been on the spot an hour ago. His attention had been attracted by the crowd; he was hastening towards it. Some fifty to sixty persons endeavoured to explain the situation as he advanced. He waved them majestically from him as only a policeman can. As he came near the house I shouted to him:
"I'm the owner of this house! I require your assistance, constable! I want you to turn these people out!"
The effect of my words was spoilt by the opening of the drawing-room window, which was immediately under the one at which I was. Half a dozen men and women thrust their heads out. They simultaneously addressed the constable. Under the circumstances he did the best thing he could have done--he blew his whistle.
There ensued a scene of considerable excitement. Never tell me again that policemen do not come when they are wanted. As soon as that whistle was blown blue-coated officials began to appear in all directions. A policeman running is a sight to be seen--so the general public with leisure on its hands seemed to think, because each came attended by a tail of stragglers. What the neighbours thought of the proceedings Heaven only knows. People stood on the doorsteps, heads were thrust out of every window. Bangley Gardens had never before experienced such an occasion in the whole course of its history.
Richard Marsh's Frivolities (1899) opens with a purse found and a parade of claimants, each more evasive than the last. The first applicant, a self-described clergyman, cannot specify where he lost it, only that it was "in the west, sir—in the west." This vagueness sets the tone for a collection where objects—purses, diamonds, burglar alarms—trigger cascades of deception. The stories share a structural habit: they begin in medias res, often with a character sitting down to breakfast or entering a room, and then pivot sharply through dialogue or a sudden revelation. The excerpts show a preference for confined settings—halls, bedrooms, villas—where power shifts rapidly between speakers. Marsh's voice is brisk, ironic, and fond of undercutting grand claims with mundane details, as when a burglar's tears stand in his eyes while a young woman in bed calmly explains her scientific control over others.
Found Objects and False Claims
The title story, "The Purse which was Found," establishes a pattern: an object is advertised, and a series of applicants arrive, each offering a story that fails to match the evidence. The first claimant's inability to name a location—"My topographical knowledge of this great city is scarcely sufficient"—is a comic evasion that Marsh repeats across the collection. The purse itself becomes a MacGuffin, less important than the parade of liars it attracts. In later stories, other objects serve similar functions: a burglar alarm, a lesson in sculling, a honeymoon trip. Marsh uses these items not as symbols but as structural pivots, forcing characters to reveal themselves through their reactions. The recurring image of a found object in a domestic space—a purse in a hall, diamonds in a box—anchors each story's absurd premise in tangible, often mundane, detail.
Burglary as Performance
Burglary appears in multiple stories, but Marsh treats it less as crime than as theater. In the excerpt from an untitled story, Mr. Bennett, a burglar, finds himself outmatched by Miss Jones, a young woman who controls her maid Hannah via electric bells and "remarkable powers over my fellow-creatures." The scene is set in a bedroom, with Miss Jones reclining against pillows, smoking a cigarette, and toying with her hair. She treats the burglary as an experiment: "I am enjoying this experiment very much indeed." The power dynamic inverts instantly—the burglar weeps, the victim directs. Marsh repeats this inversion elsewhere: a lesson in sculling becomes a lesson in control; a burglar alarm traps the wrong person. The structure of these scenes depends on sudden reversals, often signaled by a character's calm, unexpected action—pressing a button, opening a box—that shifts the balance of knowledge and authority.
Abrupt Scene Shifts and Confined Spaces
Marsh's stories move between scenes with little transition, often jumping from a hall to a bedroom or from a dialogue to a description of an object. In the excerpts, the action is almost entirely interior: halls, bedrooms, villas. The opening of "The Purse which was Found" takes place in a hall; the burglar story unfolds in a bedroom with a chest of drawers and a row of ivory buttons. These confined spaces heighten the sense of entrapment and sudden confrontation. Characters enter and exit without ceremony—"The door opened and Miss Welsh came in"—and the narrative follows their movements without commentary. Marsh rarely describes the world beyond the room; the focus stays on the immediate, often absurd, power struggle. This structural choice gives the stories a claustrophobic, almost theatrical quality, as if each tale were a one-act play performed in a single set.
Recurring Motifs of Control and Experiment
Across the excerpts, characters repeatedly claim to exert control over others through science, will, or trickery. Miss Jones speaks of "the latest phase in scientific development" and experiments on her maid and the burglar. The clergyman in the first story invokes "the inscrutable laws of the Divine Benevolence" to justify his claim. These appeals to authority—scientific, divine, or personal—are always undercut by the actual situation: the clergyman is vague, Miss Jones is a young woman in bed, the burglar is reduced to tears. Marsh uses the motif of the experiment to structure his plots: a character sets up a situation, observes the result, and then comments on it. The reader, like the characters, is left to judge the outcome. This pattern gives the collection a consistent intellectual playfulness, even as the stories remain firmly grounded in specific, often ridiculous, premises.
Readers approaching Frivolities should expect each story to pivot on a single, often absurd, premise and to resolve through dialogue rather than action. Marsh's humor lies in the gap between characters' self-importance and their actual circumstances. Pay attention to the objects that trigger each plot—they are rarely what they seem. The collection rewards those who enjoy watching confidence unravel in confined spaces.
I’ve often thought Frivolities holds its secrets the way a pocket holds a stolen watch—warm, hidden, ticking. Its burgled objects remind me of the aching pantries in Hungry Hearts — Context and Discussion, where hunger itself becomes a kind of found thing. Both books know that wanting is quieter than having ever is.
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