The Meaning of Night

^*[The famous ‘Philosopher’s Path’ that leads up to the northern bank of the Neckar. Ed.]

13

Omnia mutantur^*

A man of knowledge increaseth strength, says the proverb;^† and this saying I proved to be true, as I daily enlarged my store of understanding in the subjects to which I applied myself. I experienced a dizzying feeling of expanding power in my mental and physical capabilities, until I could conceive of no subject too abstruse for my apprehension to grasp, and no task too great for my ability to accomplish.

And yet I suffered continually from bouts of gnawing rage, which often threatened to undermine this swelling self-confidence. A fearful black humour would descend upon me without warning, even on the brightest of days, when the world about me was alive with life and hope. And then I would shut out the light, and pace about my room like a caged beast, for hours on end, eaten up by only one thought.

How would I be revenged? I turned the question over and over in my mind, imagining the ways in which Phoebus Daunt might be made to feel what I had felt, and envisioning the means by which his hopes could be destroyed. He was at Cambridge now, as I knew from Le Grice, both having taken their places at King’s College. Daunt, as expected, had secured the Newcastle, and was received at King’s with that expectation that naturally surrounds the holder of such a prize. Certainly he continued to display real ability in his studies, but again with that tendency to indiscipline that would have aroused the severe displeasure of his meticulous father. The Rector’s old friend, Dr Passingham of Trinity, did his best to maintain a paternalistic eye on the young man’s doings and would, from time to time, communicate discreet pastoral reports on his progress back to Northamptonshire. It was not long before such reports became troublesome to Dr Daunt.

From Le Grice, I received accounts of a number of incidents witnessed by him that testified to a distinct shabbiness of character, and which luridly corroborated the more sober notes of concern that flowed, with increasing frequency, between the Master’s Lodge at Trinity and Evenwood Rectory.

The first might, perhaps, be seen as an undergraduate prank (though it was not so construed by his father when it was reported to him). On being good-humouredly reprimanded by the Dean of the College for some trivial misdemeanour, young Daunt placed a game hamper before that gentleman’s door, directed to him ‘With Mr Daunt’s compliments’. When opened, the hamper was found to contain a dead cat, with an escort of five skinned rats. On being arraigned and questioned, Daunt coolly maintained his innocence, arguing that he would hardly have affixed his own name to the hamper had he been the culprit. And so he was released with due apology.

The second incident is more substantial, with respect to Daunt’s developing character.

He had been invited to a dinner given by the Provost. At the head of the table, Dr Okes^* sat in earnest discussion with the College’s Visitor, Bishop Kaye, whilst on either side a dozen or so men conversed at their ease. Daunt, one of three freshmen present, found himself sitting next to Le Grice; on the other side of the table sat a senior Fellow of the College, Dr George Maxton, a gentlemen well advanced in years and of much- impaired hearing.

Towards the conclusion of the meal, Daunt leaned forward and, with a fixed smile, spoke to this venerable figure.

‘Well, Dr Maxton, and how are you enjoying yourself?’

The good gentleman, seeing himself addressed, but hearing nothing above the surrounding chatter, merely smiled back and nodded.

‘You think it a pretty fair spread, do you, you old fool?’ Another nod.

Daunt continued, still smiling.

‘The oysters were barely tolerable, the hock execrable, the conversation tiresome, and yet you have found it all perfectly to your taste. What a rattlepate you are.’

Daunt persisted in this impertinent and insulting vein for some minutes, making the most uncomplimentary remarks to the poor deaf gentleman across the table as though he were discoursing on the most common topics. All the while, Dr Maxton, unaware of what was really being said to him, received the young man’s impudence with mute gestures of touching courtesy; and still Daunt continued to derogate his fellow guest, smiling as he did so. This, as Le Grice observed, was behaviour most unbecoming to a gentleman.

There were other – indeed, numerous – instances of such behaviour during Daunt’s time at the Varsity, all of them displaying an innate viciousness and egotism. I eagerly read Le Grice’s reports, which formed the beginnings of what was to become an extensive repository of information concerning the history and character of Phoebus Daunt.

I would be revenged on him. This became an article of faith with me. But I must first come to know him as I knew myself: his family, his friends and acquaintances, his places of resort – all the externalities of his life; and then the internal impulsions: his hopes and fears, his uncertainties and desires, his ambitions, and all the secret corners of his heart. Only when the subject of Phoebus Rainsford Daunt had been completely mastered would I know where the blow should fall that would bring catastrophe upon him. For the moment, I must bide my time, until I returned to England, to begin setting my plans in motion.

At Evenwood, Dr Daunt’s great work on the Duport Library was drawing to its triumphant close after nearly eight years’ labour. It had become a famous enterprise, with articles on its progress appearing regularly in the periodical press, and the publication of the final catalogue, with its attendant notes and commentaries, was eagerly awaited by the community of scholars and collectors, both in England and on the Continent. The Rector had written and received hundreds of letters during the course of his work, to the extent that Lord Tansor had agreed to hire an amanuensis to assist him in the completion of the great task. His own private secretary, Mr Paul Carteret, had also been seconded to help the Rector when required; and so, aided by this little team, and driven daily by his own unbounded eagerness and energy, the end was now in sight.

Mr Carteret’s assistance had proved invaluable, especially his extensive knowledge of the Duport family, of which he was himself a member. His familiarity with the family papers, stored in the Muniments Room at Evenwood, enabled Dr Daunt to establish where, when, and from whom the 23rd Baron Tansor had purchased particular items, as well as the provenance of some of the books in the collection that had been acquired in earlier times. To Mr Carteret was also delegated the important and demanding task of listing and describing the manuscript holdings, which were a particular interest of his.

Lord Tansor had wanted a superior kind of inventory of his goods; but he was not so much the Philistine that he did not feel satisfied by the true nature of his asset, nor take pride in what had been laid down by his grandfather for the benefit of posterity. Its material value proved, in the end, difficult to calculate, except that it was almost beyond price; but its worth in other terms had been indubitably confirmed by Dr Daunt’s work, and it now stood to the world as one of the most important collections of its kind in Europe. For this confirmation alone, and the great