'As soon as we get back to your rooms, you can change and then come straight back here and return the raincoat to its rightful owner. If necessary, you can always apologise and say that you slipped it on by mistake. But with any luck, he'll never even know that you've borrowed it.' And she was right. Thankfully, the gentleman whose raincoat I filched from the Bodleian Library never knew that his garment had been borrowed for a mission of mercy. No accusing hand was laid on my shoulder after I hung up the coat again on the stand and with a huge sigh of relief, I ran back to Miranda who was waiting for me in the quadrangle. 'Mission accomplished, ma'am,' I grinned. There was just time for me to take Miranda to Mrs. Clark's Tea Rooms for a celebratory fight luncheon of mulligatawny soup, cold roast beef and salad and a rhubarb tart, for I had no wish to miss a minute of her stepbrothers' first lecture of the term. 'You must hurry back to college, Henry,' said Miranda as we rose from our table. 'But I'm in no hurry so I shall visit the Sheldonian Theatre which is only two minutes' away from here. Then I'm very happy to stroll back to the hotel by myself.' 'Very well, but can we meet again this evening?' I asked. But she shook her head. 'I'm afraid not, my dear, Kit is squiring me to some important party. However, I'm free tomorrow night, and I insist that you come to dinner at the Randolph as my guest. I'll send a note round confirming this later today.
Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy Kit's lecture, you must tell me all about it tomorrow might.'*** Diary, it did not immediately strike me what a novel idea Miranda was proposing – after all, who has ever heard of a girl taking a boy out for a meal! Anyhow, I have accepted her offer and am greatly anticipating the 'dessert'.
Brasenose College, Oxford, October 4th, 1901 (After breakfast) There was a buzz of excitement in the air when Kit Barnes walked into the lecture room to meet his batch of first year undergraduates who were taking his course in current political philosophy. I arrived ten minutes early to bag a seat in the front row and I noticed that two groups had formed around the tall, spotty-faced youth (to whom I readily admit I have already taken an instant dislike) and the burly, blond chap. They are clearly the leaders of the factions who are respectively in favour and against the continuation of the Boer War. Charles Farleigh-Windsor sat down next to me and whispered: 'Hello there, Henry. Where have you been, old bean? The atmosphere hasn't really cooled down since earlier, but I'm damned if I'm getting involved again if some bloody idiots start any trouble. 'You can see for yourself how Maurice FitzAllen and his cohorts from the Imperialist Society are already spoiling for a fight, and that fair-faired fellow Johnny Tomlinson and the pro-Boers won't run from one either. Johnny was the vice-captain of the English Schoolboys rugby team and the bloke with the goatee beard on his right is Paul Adler, the son of the Liberal MP for Whitechapel, who I know has already been pencilled in to represent Oxford in the Universities boxing tournament.' “The boxing ring would be a far more suitable venue to settle their disagreements if they cannot debate the issue like civilised human beings,' I commented sourly, for at heart I am a peaceable soul and dislike violence so much that I never even swished any of the cheeky young fags during my year as a house prefect at Albion Academy. Here let me digress briefly to state that I agree whole-heartedly with the American idea of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness and I make no apology in stating that I am allied to a philosophy of live and let live. My unashamedly hedonistic happiness lies in good food, jolly companions – and as many pretty girls as possible who I can persuade to share my bed! I said as much to Charles who chuckled and said: 'So you think if only we all looked after own business and didn't interfere with others, the world would be a better place, h'm? This might not sound unreasonable at first sight, but I'm afraid I can't agree with you. For a start, not everyone is as easy-going and kind as you, and if everyone followed your path, too many people would duck out of their obligations towards their fellow citizens.' It was not to my credit that I sarcastically observed: 'My goodness, this is a somewhat strange, socialistic argument to be propounded by a scion of the Farleigh-Windsors, one of the oldest and respected families in the county of Herefordshire.' Indeed, I was then going to apologise for the unfair comment when Dr Barnes entered the room and the buzz of conversation died down as he strode to the lectern. There was a collective intake of breath as Dr Barnes cleared his throat, but he began mildly enough and opened by welcoming us to his course. Truth to tell his fifty minute lecture on conventions of the unwritten British Constitution caused not a murmur of discontent from his audience.
However, the fireworks began when he asked if there were any questions we wished to put to him. Maurice FitzAllen rose to his feet and said in a sneering voice: 'And just what are your views on our brave soldiers fighting the Boer terrorists in South Africa?' Dr Barnes looked hard at the pimply-faced youth with barely concealed contempt and then said: 'I'll answer the question and ignore the impolite manner in which it was asked and despite the fact that the matter has little to do with the subject of my lecture. But I will answer it on a once and for all basis. After this afternoon, I will hear no more of the rights and wrongs of the South African campaign.'
I am sure that he felt the electrically-charged atmosphere in the room for he proceeded to speak carefully, weighing his words, trying his best not to inflame the deep divisions which he was aware already existed between his students. At first we listened in silence as he said: 'Contrary to what some of you might have read, I am not one of those people who believe that the Boers are merely simple, brave farmers who are lighting to protect their homeland against aggressive British imperialists. President Kruger, who as you know, has fled to Europe to drum up support for the Boers on the Continent, is an obstinate and reactionary old fool who has led his people up a blind alley. 'On the other hand, the case against the Boers has been over-stated and our interests are far from being in the welfare of the natives or our own colonists, but far more about the diamonds and gold waiting to be extracted from the South African mines! Now, like it or not, de Wet is a thorn in our side and my opinion is that it would not only be morally right, but less expensive in lives and property on both sides, to reach some kind of accommodation with him.' So far, he was heard with only a subdued rumbling from the two camps but then he paused to take a sip from a glass of water and went on: 'For not only has the policy proved unsuccessful, but Lord Kitchener's policy of herding Boer women and children into concentration camps is unworthy of the British Empire. It is a stain upon our national character and I bitterly regret that Joseph Chamberlain and the Government have played the familiar gambit of rushing out troops and then denouncing any reasonable opposition to the conflict as treachery.' 'It is treachery!' snorted Maurice FitzAllen loudly.
'Down with the pro-Boers! Hurrah for our gallant fads risking their lives on the Veldt!' Dr Barnes shook his head sadly. 'I don't think there is any point in continuing the discussion,' he commented.
'If you believe my country right or wrong then all I can say is that genuinely I feel sorry for you, for as Chesterton trenchantly argues, “my country right or wrong” is a thing no patriot would think of saying except in a desperate case. It is like saying, “my mother, drunk or sober”! This sally made the pro-Boer party burst into applause and may well have won over many of the neutrals. However, Maurice FitzAllen was so infuriated that he gathered his books together and stormed out of the lecture-hall, stopping only at the door to shout: 'God save the King!' For a second time this day Charles defused the situation, for he could not refrain from calling back: 'What has he got to do with it? The monarchy is supposed to be above politics and anyhow, Teddy is probably more concerned about getting his leg over Mrs. Keppel!' This caused a howl of laughter from all but the most rabid of FitzAllen's supporters who silently followed their leader out of the room. Dr Barnes looked up at the clock on the wall and said: 'I think this would be a good moment to close these proceedings. Thank you for your attention, gentlemen, I look forward to seeing you here again next week.' A smiling chap came over to Charlie and offered his congratulations on the way he had helped make FitzAllen look so foolish. He clapped him on the back and said: 'Many thanks for helping Dr Barnes to see off FitzAllen, he's a nasty piece of work and deserves all the ridicule that can be heaped upon him. I don't think we've met, have we? My name's Joshua Allen.'