Oxford in the Middle of the Night
Halloween was not celebrated in England in 1987. This has changed over the past thirty-five years. Today more than one hundred UK Halloween events are listed in the Historic Homes newsletter for this weekend. But that is all I am going to say about Halloween.
Up All Night
On a Saturday in late October 1987, I recorded the following account of my day in Oxford. “I was reading The Good Soldier [1915] by Ford Madox Ford and fell asleep about 6:30 in the morning, slightly before dawn, and woke up at 9:30, so I got about three hours sleep. And it’s a gorgeous day today—one of those sunny, golden days in Oxford. The trees are russet and yellow and the whole town is the color of Keble College. Everywhere it is magnificent.”
“I have a weird schedule . . . I have gotten stuck halfway between British and American time. I go to bed at the time I would normally go to bed in Madison [Wisconsin] and get up at the time I would normally get up in England.
“The weird thing about staying up all night—this is the strange side of Oxford that I never saw before—I’ll hear the waves of drunken males coming home from the pubs at 11:00, then a later group comes in around 1:00 or 2:00 from the discos. So, two sets of drunken males, singing and swaggering and making a lot of noise. Then about 6:00 in the morning, you get another group of singing, swaggering males, who are not drunk (I don’t think), but are rowing crews going out to row. So, I hear the drunkards coming in at night and the rowers going out in the morning . . . the two distinct sets of male humanity at Oxford in action. And it is always male, never female. It’s a bizarre, really Oxford sound.”
“I had the wonderful leisure of having breakfast in bed. I turned on the tape player and listened to classical music. It’s sunny; it’s lovely. I got dressed and went down to the Bodleian Library. I have to say, of all the delights I experienced in Oxford, the thing that gives me intense pleasure in this place is going to the Bodleian, where I am absolutely in my element. I was very happy all morning working until it closed [the Bodleian closed at noon on Saturdays].
“There are things about Oxford that I still love very much. One of them is the Bodleian Library. I simply love to go there. I love to work there. I love to be surrounded by that atmosphere. I am very sensitive to my physical surroundings, and one thing that has not changed about Oxford and one thing that has not grown pale over time is the sheer physical beauty, the aesthetic quality when I walk around the college, the beauty of the grounds, the shrubbery, the foliage. The physical beauty of Oxford never grows old for me. It gives me great comfort to look at the buildings and to walk around. Taking walks in Oxford has a very therapeutic effect for me.”
BLAST!
“What I was doing [at the Bodleian], I read the first issue of Blast, which is a manifesto of the Vorticist movement that was published in June of 1914, and actually it only had two issues. The first issue came out in June of 1914 and the second issue came out in July of 1915. It was the last issue because of the war breaking out. The bigger blast of the Great War put an end to the movement. In fact, in the second issue, they had a couple of contributions from people who had already died in the war. Wyndham Lewis himself, the editor, then enlisted and went off in 1916 to join the war. A lot of the graphics in the second issue of Blast were scenes of the trenches.
“There is a connection too with Ford Madox Ford’s book The Good Soldier. A portion of the book first appeared in the first issue of Blast. It was entitled ‘The Saddest Story,’ which became the subtitle of the book that he eventually published. What does this have to do with [James] Joyce and Bérard? Of course, Joyce is mentioned as one of the ‘blessed’ of the modernist movement. . . . What I am trying to do right now is to maintain a steady consumption of materials about the [modernist] period and reading in the period.”
Afternoon Walk
“I can’t resist taking a walk on this lovely day. Maybe I will have a cup of tea somewhere as a splurge. . . . I picked up a wonderful book of poems on my walk around town. It’s called Powell’s Oxford by Roger Arie. I thought I would read you one of his poems. First, let me say a word about the author. The book was published in 1975. The author bills himself as a member of the national union of street musicians and organ grinders, who suffered in the ensuing class struggle that was being waged and was awarded a state pension for services to the country as a whole. He hopes to be on the bridge when Great Britain sinks below the English Channel and has been shortlisted for the Desert Island disc jockey. The picture of the author shows a long-haired guy who looks like a hippie. I will read you his poem that characterizes college life. I think he was at Ruskin College.
College Life
College life is not all fun, as I found out this afternoon,
But till now it hasn’t been so bad.
Look at any normal day:
Up at eleven, read the mail, tea and biscuits in the room,
Write a few letters, stroll down Walton Street to post them,
Lunch at 1:15—one of the first in, always the last out.
Back to room to reflect and digest.
About half past three, one likes to dress for tea and go off
In search of a cup in St. Anne’s, Somerville, or Lady Margaret Hall [all women’s colleges].
Back in time to relax before supper,
after which a society will perhaps be having an interesting speaker.
Tonight it was a fine lecture on Turner.
At weekends, one likes to avoid work altogether
And spend a little more time enjoying one’s self.
Education, after all, must not be taken too seriously.
Facts are facts are facts.
“I think that sort of characterizes the typical day at Oxford for some students. Not for myself, of course. . . . Some of the other more interesting poems are ‘The Dreaming Spires Are Snoring Now,’ ‘I Must Go Round to the Radcliffe Camera,’ ‘I Punted Down the Isis or Was It the Cherwell.’ They are quite funny for anyone who has any familiarity with life on the inside here in Oxford.”
Oxford looks beautiful!
I feel as if I am with you on this adventure - due to your 1st person writing. Don't you think someone should revive "Blast" ?