Gaudy Night

“Much the same here,” said Harriet. “I said I’d scull, and I’m sculling.”

“Aren’t we a pair of heroes?” said Mr. Pomfret. He accompanied her to Magdalen Bridge, was hailed by an irritable friend in a canoe, who said he had been waiting for half an hour, and went off up-river, grumbling that nobody loved him and that he knew it was going to rain.

Harriet joined Miss Edwards, who said, on hearing about the girl:

“Well, you might have got her name, I suppose. But I don’t see what one could do about it. It wasn’t one of our people, I suppose?”

“I didn’t recognize her. And she didn’t seem to recognize me.”

“Then it probably wasn’t. Pity you didn’t get the name, all the same. People oughtn’t to do that kind of thing. Inconsiderate. Will you take bow or stroke?”

12

As a Tulipant to the Sun (which our herbalists call Narcissus) when it shines, is admirandus flos ad radios solis sepandens, a glorious Flower exposing itself; but when the Sun sets, or a tempest comes, it hides itself, pines away, and hath no pleasure left… do all Enamoratoes to their Mistress.

– ROBERT BURTON

The mind most effectually works upon the body, producing by his passions and perturbations miraculous alterations, as melancholy, despair, cruel diseases, and sometimes death itself… They that live in fear are never free, resolute, secure, never merry, but in continual pain… It causeth oft-times sudden madness.

– ID.

The arrival of Miss Edwards, together with the rearrangements of residences due to the completion of the Library Building, greatly strengthened the hands of authority at the opening of the Trinity Term. Miss Barton, Miss Burrows and Miss de Vine moved into the three new sets on the ground floor of the Library; Miss Chilperic was transferred to the New Quad, and a general redistribution took place; so that Tudor and Burleigh Buildings were left entirely denuded of dons. Miss Martin, Harriet, Miss Edwards and Miss Lydgate established a system of patrols, by which the New Quad, Queen Elizabeth and the Library Building could be visited nightly at irregular intervals and an eye kept on all suspicious movements…

Thanks to this arrangement, the more violent demonstrations of the Poison-Pen received a check. It is true that a few anonymous letters continued to arrive by post, containing scurrilous insinuations and threats of revenge against various persons. Harriet was carefully docketing as many of these as she could hear of or lay hands on-she noticed that by this time every member of the S.C.R. had been persecuted, with the exception of Mrs. Goodwin and Miss Chilperic; in addition, the Third Year taking Schools began to receive sinister prognostications about their prospects, while Miss Flaxman was presented with an ill-executed picture of a harpy tearing the flesh of a gentleman in a mortar-board.

Harriet had tried to eliminate Miss Pyke and Miss Burrows from suspicion, on the ground that they were both fairly skilful with a pencil, and would therefore be incapable of producing such bad drawings, even by taking thought; she discovered, however, that, though both were dexterous, neither of them was ambidexterous, and that their left-handed efforts were quite as bad as anything produced by the Poison-Pen, if not worse. Miss Pyke, indeed, on being shown the Harpy picture, pointed out that it was, in several respects, inconsistent with the classical conception of this monster; but there again it was clearly easy enough for the expert to assume ignorance; and perhaps the eagerness with which she drew attention to the incidental errors told as much against her as in her favour.

Another trifling but curious episode, occurring on the third Monday in term, was the complaint of an agitated and conscientious First-Year that she had left a harmless modern novel open upon the table in the Fiction Library, and that on her return to fetch it after an afternoon on the river, she had found several pages from the middle of the book-just where she was reading-ripped out and strewn about the room. The First-Year, who was a County Council Scholar, and as poor as a church mouse, was almost in tears; it really wasn’t her fault; should she have to replace the book? The Dean, to whom the question was addressed, said, No; it certainly didn’t seem to be the First-Year’s fault. She made a note of the outrage: “The Search by C. P. Snow, pp. 327 to 340 removed and mutilated, May 13th,” and passed the information on to Harriet, who incorporated it in her diary of the case, together with such items as:

“March 7, abusive letter by post to Miss de Vine,”

“March 11, do. to Miss Hillyard and Miss Layton,”

“April 29, Harpy drawing to Miss Flaxman,” of which she had now quite a formidable list.

So the Summer Term set in, sun-flecked and lovely, a departing April whirled on wind-spurred feet towards a splendour of May. Tulips danced in the Fellows’ Garden; a fringe of golden green shimmered and deepened upon the secular beeches; the boats put out upon the Cher between the budding banks, and the wide reaches of the Isis were strenuous with practising eights. Black gowns and summer frocks fluttered up and down the streets of the city and through the College gates, making a careless heraldry with the green of smooth turf and the silver-sable of ancient stone; motorcar and bicycle raced perilously side by side through narrow turnings and the wail of gramophones made hideous the water-ways from Magdalen Bridge to far above the new By-pass. Sunbathers and untidy tea-parties desecrated Shrewsbury Old Quad, newly-whitened te

“I don’t suppose you have,” said the Dean. “She’s a shy child. But Miss Shaw thinks she’s pretty safe for a First.”

“She isn’t looking well this term, though,” said the Bursar. “I hope she isn’t going to have a break-down or anything. I told her the other day she ought not to cut Hall so often.”

“They will do it,” said the Dean. “It’s all very well to say they can’t be bothered to change when they come off the river and prefer pyjamas and an egg in their rooms; but I’m sure a boiled egg and a sardine aren’t sustaining enough to do Schools on.”

“And the mess it all makes for the scouts to clear up,” grumbled the Bursar. “It’s almost impossible to get the rooms done by eleven when they’re crammed with filthy crockery.”

“It isn’t being out on the river that’s the matter with Newland,” said the Dean. “That child works.”

“All the worse,” said the Bursar. “I distrust the candidate who swots in her last term. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if your horse scratched, Miss Vane. She looks nervy to me.”