Essays in Idleness — Reading Companion

A Cat on the Desk: The Opening Gambit

The first paragraph of 'Agrippina' does more than introduce a pet. It establishes a relationship between writer and subject that recurs throughout the book. Repplier writes that she glances at the cat 'with deference, mutely begging permission to begin.' The cat's 'yellow eyes' hold her in subjection. This is not mere whimsy; it is a rhetorical posture. By framing the essay as a negotiation with a disdainful creature, Repplier signals that her essays will proceed by indirection, wit, and a cultivated idleness. The opening also displays her method of layering allusions: the cat's ancestors include an Egyptian king's pet, the Prophet's cat, and Chateaubriand's ecclesiastical feline. Each reference is precise, not decorative. Readers should note how Repplier uses such details to anchor abstract reflections in concrete, often domestic, imagery.

Words Under Scrutiny: The Essay on Language

In 'Words,' Repplier turns to the craft of writing itself. She quotes Matthew Arnold—'All freaks tend to impair the beauty and power of language'—and then examines contemporary stylists. She criticizes Browning for phrases like 'the Tyrrhene whelk's pearl-sheeted lip' and Carlyle for 'mammonism' and 'flunkeyhood,' which she calls 'spikes' that test the reader's fortitude. Yet she praises Carlyle's description of 'little red-colored pulpy infants' as the work of a 'Dutch master.' The essay is not a simple polemic; it discriminates. She also targets George Meredith's 'neighed a laugh' and 'tolled her naughty head,' suspecting the author is 'diverting himself at our expense.' Repplier's own prose is a counterexample: clear, balanced, and free of the 'linguistic museum' she deplores. This section reveals her critical principles: precision, restraint, and a distrust of the bizarre for its own sake.

The Uses of Leisure: A Recurring Theme

The essay 'Leisure' (reprinted from Scribner's Magazine) gives the collection its title and its central preoccupation. Repplier does not define leisure as laziness but as a necessary condition for thought and art. She draws on a wide range of references—from classical authors to contemporary life—to argue that the modern world's haste is inimical to genuine culture. The essay's tone is conversational, but its argument is firm: 'idleness' is a deliberate practice, not a failure of will. Readers should compare this essay with 'Ennui,' which treats the opposite condition—a boredom that is sterile rather than productive. Together, they form a diptych on the value of time. Repplier's method is to circle her subject, accumulating examples and quotations, rather than advancing a linear thesis. This associative structure mirrors the 'idleness' she advocates.

Wit, Humor, and the Art of the Essay

The penultimate essay, 'Wit and Humor,' distinguishes between the two with a lightness that itself exemplifies wit. Repplier avoids academic taxonomy; instead, she offers examples and lets the reader feel the difference. She notes that wit is 'a flash' while humor is 'a glow,' but the essay's charm lies in its illustrative anecdotes and literary references. She praises the 'dexterous felicities' of a language 'long employed by a delicate and critical society,' quoting Walter Bagehot. The essay also touches on the dangers of excessive cleverness, a theme that echoes her critique of Browning and Meredith in 'Words.' Throughout the collection, Repplier practices what she preaches: her own humor is dry, her wit pointed but never cruel. This essay serves as a key to her method, showing how she balances critical judgment with a genial, companionable tone.

Reading Essays in Idleness in sequence reveals a consistent voice: learned, ironic, and skeptical of fashion. Repplier's targets—pretentious language, haste, and the cult of originality—remain relevant. The excerpts show that she is not a moralist but a critic in the older sense: a judge of style and a connoisseur of ideas. Approach these essays as conversations with a well-read friend who values precision and wit above all. The cat on the desk is not a gimmick; it is a symbol of the unhurried, attentive life that Repplier defends.

Flipping through Repplier’s Essays in Idleness, I paused at her cat, Agrippina, sprawled across a Victorian desk—all quiet, unearned authority. It reminded me, strangely, of reading On Being Negro in America — Context and Discussion, where a different kind of stillness weighs heavy. Each book measures the room we think we own, and what we barely notice sitting beside us.