The Campus Trilogy (17 page)

“I made Barraclough an offer he couldn’t refuse,” he said, standing up and doing a little soft-shoe shuffle. “Got to go. I’m off to the medical centre. Got to get more jabs for the journey.”

Later in the day, I had an interview with a reporter from the
St
Sebastian’s Gazette
about the OBE. Victoria had sent the
newspaper
the photograph she took with her camera. They asked me about the day and what the Queen had said. On Thursday there was a short article and a photograph of me standing in Buckingham Palace wearing my medal. It was on the front page.

Several days later, I received an email from Oscar Billstone in Sweetpea. He had seen the article on the internet and had sent a copy to Thomas Jefferson Porpoise. They planned to reproduce the picture in the
Sweetpea Alumni Magazine
with a report of my lecture. He asked if I could write a short piece describing the ceremony and an explanation of the British honours system. He added as a postscript that he was discussing the details of the Thomas Jefferson Porpoise Distinguished Professorship with the Board of the College and would be in touch soon.

One afternoon a few days later I was marking essays in my room. There was a knock on the door. To my amazement it was the Vice-Chancellor. “I hope I’m not interrupting you,” he said. He was carrying a large file and sat in the armchair opposite my desk. “Lovely office,” he remarked. He glanced at the icon of
St Sebastian. “You know, that would be a wonderful legacy for the university. Now, Harry, there is something serious I want to discuss with you. As you are aware, we have had external assessors evaluate the submissions for the Research Assessment Exercise. This was a trial run. This morning your Head of Department came to see me.”

Barraclough frowned. “We discussed your case, and I’m afraid both John and I think there are problems with your submission. You see, this new book of yours has caused quite a stir. I saw the article in
The Observer
and I understand you’ve been on
Start the Week
. While this is all very nice publicity for the university, and I’m sure it helps your royalties, it is obvious your book is for a general audience. It’s not the kind of thing the RAE favours. What they like is much more scholarly. Top marks are awarded for serious original research in learned journals. The more obscure, the better. So, you see, this makes the situation very difficult.”

I was shocked. “Look, Vice-Chancellor,” I said, “I was in the last Research Assessment Exercise. And we got the highest marks. I can’t understand. That’s not the only book that I’ve written. There is my textbook on ethics. It broke new ground, was very well-reviewed and is used widely in universities and theological colleges.”

Barraclough looked at his papers. “Yes, I know about the book. But, Harry, it’s a textbook. Not a scholarly monograph. You know the RAE takes a dim view of introductory books unless they are in some sense original.”

“This one is. There are also several articles in scholarly
journals
. And three chapters in books. You can’t ignore everything.”

Barraclough shifted in his chair. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m not an expert. I’m taking advice from John.”

“But what about the outside assessor?”

“John has based his decision on the assessor’s view as well.”

“What did he say?”

“As you know, this information is confidential. No one is to see it other than myself, the Registrar, the Dean and the Head of Department. So I am not at liberty to say.”

“This is ridiculous. It’s clearly a conspiracy against me.”

“Don’t be absurd, Harry. I just wanted to let you know before there is an official report. But if you do object, you can appeal against the decision. There is an appeal panel consisting of Wanda, the Registrar, and the Provost of the Cathedral in his role as Visitor.”

“Look,” I said, “I’m a senior professor. I have the right to be included in the RAE. I can’t understand what you’re thinking of.”

“No one has the right to be in the submission. But you do have the right to appeal.” Barraclough stood up and looked again at the icon. “That really is a most splendid painting. It would look just right in the chapel.”

When Barraclough left, I went to see Magnus. When he opened the door, he was wearing a dinner jacket. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Trying on my new outfit for the cruise. Just got it at Oxfam. What do you think?”

Magnus’s room was cluttered as usual. There were piles of paper on the floor and books stacked on every chair. He turned around so I could see the fit. “It’s very short,” I said. There was a three inch gap between his socks and his trousers.

“If I wear long black socks, no one will notice.”

“And the sleeves are too long.” They came over his knuckles.

“I don’t think anyone will care.”

“Otherwise it’s not a bad fit. But it does look a bit loose in the waist.” Magnus was holding his trousers up with his left hand.

“That can be remedied if I wear braces,” he said.

“Frankly, I think you’d be better off buying a new one.”

“It’s only for the evening. I thought it was rather fetching. Look,” he said, “it’s got buttons on the fly. And you can button up the sleeves. Must have been tailor-made for someone.”

“Perhaps for your friend the gorilla,” I said.

Magnus pushed books off a chair and sat down. His trousers exposed his ankles and about five inches of his legs. “So, what’s new?” he asked.

“I just saw Barraclough. He told me I’m going to be left out of the RAE.”

Magnus looked stunned. “Gosh, they do want you to go! Did he say anything about summer school?”

“He didn’t mention it. Why?”

“Well, now that I’m going, someone’s got to do it.”

“But I’m a professor.”

“That won’t make any difference if you’re not in the RAE. Without the RAE money, you won’t be earning your salary just by term-time teaching. You know how fixated they are on it. So they’ll make you make it up elsewhere.” Magnus looked at his ankles. “Do you really think the trousers are too short? Maybe Victoria could lengthen them for me.”

I was desperate to reverse the Vice-Chancellor’s decision. It was humiliating not to be included in the department’s research submission as a professor, and I saw all too clearly what it would mean in terms of other duties. Therefore I contacted Morris O’Murphy. He was on his way to Sheffield for a complicated case dealing with bullying and harassment and told me to discuss the matter with Penelope. When I phoned her she was in the middle of a supervision with a graduate student. She advised me to look at the regulations concerning launching an appeal.

Without much difficulty I found these on the university website. They stated that two references should be sought from outside experts, and that the appeal would be heard by the Registrar, the Dean, and the Visitor. I then sent an email to the Regius Professor of Divinity at Bosworth and the Archbishop of Cannonbury asking them if they would be willing to write references about my work. Later in the day I received emails from both of them. They indicated their shock and bewilderment at the university’s decision and they agreed unreservedly to act on my behalf. I then wrote a letter to the Registrar, stating that I wished to appeal and listed the Regius Professor and the Archbishop as my referees.

For a week I heard nothing. Then I received a brief note from the Registrar, telling me the date of the appeal. It was to take place in the Registrar’s Office in two weeks time. I was allowed to have a representative attend. I sent Penelope an email asking if she would accompany me. In the meantime there was a general memo to the department from Pilkington listing those
who were to be included in the RAE submission, and asking if they would send him copies of the works they planned to submit. I noticed that three other members of the department besides me were not included. One had recently been appointed; the others were Magnus and a senior lecturer in patristics who only published book reviews in theological journals. This was profoundly embarrassing. I wondered what the other members of the department made of my exclusion.

On the day of the appeal, I arrived early wearing my best suit and dog-collar. Penelope looked nervous as we waited outside the Registrar’s office. “Look, I don’t know anything about theology,” she said.

“I know, but you can make sure they act fairly.”

“I can do that,” she said hesitantly. “But I’m not an expert. Still you do have very impressive referees.”

Sloth opened the door and ushered us in. The Provost of the Cathedral was sitting at the head of the table. Wanda was on his right. Sloth sat opposite Wanda and gestured towards a couple of hard chairs. Wanda had a notepad in front of her as well as a file of papers. Sloth began by outlining the procedures. I was to speak first, and then Wanda and the Visitor would ask questions. The appeal would last no more than half an hour.

I began by explaining that I had been teaching Christian ethics for over thirty years, and that I had been included in the last Research Assessment Exercise in which the department had achieved high marks. My new book, I stressed, was designed for a wide audience, but had ample footnotes and a bibliography of relevant works. I explained that my textbook on Christian ethics was highly innovative, was widely used in universities and theological colleges and contained substantial original material. I also handed out a list of my other publications including articles in prestigious scholarly journals and the book chapters. In addition I circulated a number of favourable reviews of both books including the article in
The Observer
.

Wanda made copious notes as I spoke. The Visitor looked uneasy. When I finished, he commented that my most recent book was not entirely in accord with the teachings of the Church of England. I pointed out that that was not the criterion used
in the RAE exercise. “Nonetheless, we wouldn’t want people to be led astray,” said the Provost.

“But the Archbishop himself is supporting my appeal,” I said indignantly.

The Provost sighed. “Yes, it’s all very awkward, very difficult, very embarrassing. I’m thinking we should be trying to find a middle way.” He wrung his hands.

“There is no middle way, Provost,” said Sloth firmly. “Either Harry is to be included in the St Sebastian’s RAE submission, or he is not. I vote that we follow the advice of the outside assessor.”

“But what did the outside assessor say?” I asked.

“That is not your affair,” snapped Wanda. “The judgment was reached in an open, transparent manner and that is
sufficient
. And it is entirely confidential. I agree with the Registrar.”

The Provost looked uncomfortable. “Oh dear,” he said. “I am most reluctant to go against what the dear Archbishop recommends.”

“Well, it really doesn’t matter,” boomed Sloth. “The
committee
already has a majority.”

“In that case,” the Provost said, “I want to put on record how very impressed I was with the references of the Archbishop and the Regius Professor of Divinity. But of course, I cannot describe myself as an expert. It is always unwise to go against the advice of an external assessor – although, of course, I haven’t seen that …”

I was aghast. “You mean they haven’t let you see the external report?”

“It’s confidential,” said Sloth. He was wide awake.

“But Provost,” I said desperately, “then you only have the word of these two. You don’t know what the assessor said, nor do I. What I do know is that there is a long history which I am very willing to describe to you of these two trying to get rid of me. What is happening is they are hiding behind confidentiality to drive me out of my job.”

“I deeply resent the implication,” said Wanda. “How dare you suggest that the system is anything but completely fair!”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” lamented the Provost. “Unpleasantness is always to be regretted. I think, Dr Sloth, if you will excuse
me, I really must leave now. I have an appointment later in the day to talk the cathedral sacristans.”

It was the end of the meeting. I knew I was defeated. Penelope shook her head but she remained silent. She knew there was nothing she could say. I walked in the direction of my office fuming. Magnus was waiting for me by the chapel. “Well?” he said.

“Hopeless!” I said. “They wouldn’t even discuss the
references
. They just said they had to follow the assessor, whose report the Provost of the Cathedral hadn’t even seen.”

“Did they mention summer school?”

“Not yet.”

When I arrived home, I told Victoria the saga of what had happened. Cleo was sitting on my lap as I recounted the interview; Brutus was chasing his paper ball.

In the middle of my furious exposition, the telephone rang. It was Oscar. He told me that the Sweetpea Board of Trustees had approved Thomas Jefferson’s offer of the Distinguished Professorship and were in the process of sorting out details. The salary for the Chair was to be one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars a year and the duties would be minimal.

Thomas Jefferson had also offered the use of a small cottage on his estate which was fully furnished. There would be a token rent of a hundred dollars a year. The cottage had previously been used as a museum for the Porpoise estate, and contained antique furniture dating from the colonial period. It was very much hoped that I would take up the offer and begin in September. The Board would be writing to me officially within the next few days. He concluded by emphasizing how much Thomas Jefferson wanted me to accept the position. He planned to have a inaugural ball in our honour when we arrived.

“Well, Harry,” Victoria said, “that’s quite an offer. Double your salary, free housing and nothing to do. And the cottage sounds charming.”

“Would you really like it?”

“It would be wonderful for you. And I am interested in the offer from the
Washington Post
. I’ve heard from them too. They really do want to have me on the books. Do you want to go?”

“Well, after what has just happened it does sound tempting. But what about your father?”