Brideshead revisited : the sacred and profane memories of Captain Charles Ryder / a novel by Evelyn Waugh
| dc.contributor | Gilliver, Peter Oxford Dictionaries Oxford University Press Oxford |
| dc.contributor.author | Waugh, Evelyn, 1903-1966 |
| dc.coverage.placeName | London |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2018-07-27 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2019-07-04T09:48:49Z |
| dc.date.available | 2019-07-04T09:48:49Z |
| dc.date.created | 1960 |
| dc.date.issued | 1991-01-24 |
| dc.identifier | ota:0146 |
| dc.identifier.citation | http://purl.ox.ac.uk/ota/0146 |
| dc.identifier.uri | http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.12024/0146 |
| dc.description.abstract | “Re-issued with many small additions and some substantial cuts”. -- First ed. 1945 |
| dc.format.extent | Text data (1 file : ca. 600 KB) |
| dc.format.medium | Digital bitstream |
| dc.language | English |
| dc.language.iso | eng |
| dc.publisher | University of Oxford |
| dc.relation.ispartof | Oxford Text Archive Core Collection |
| dc.rights | Oxford Text Archive |
| dc.rights.uri | https://ota.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/repository/xmlui/page/licence-ota |
| dc.rights.label | ACA |
| dc.subject.lcsh | English fiction -- 20th century |
| dc.subject.other | Novels |
| dc.title | Brideshead revisited : the sacred and profane memories of Captain Charles Ryder / a novel by Evelyn Waugh |
| dc.type | Text |
| has.files | yes |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| files.size | 618363 |
| files.count | 2 |
| otaterms.date.range | 1900-1999 |
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<A E. WAUGH>
<T Brideshead Revisited>[1960 Eyre Methuen]
<P 11>
When I reached 'C' Company lines, which were at the
top of the hill, I paused and looked back at the camp, just
coming into full view below me through the grey mist of
early morning. We were leaving that day. When we
marched in, three months before, the place was under
snow; now the first leaves of spring were unfolding. I had
reflected then that, whatever scenes of desolation lay ahead
of us, I never feared one more brutal than this, and I
reflected now that it had no single happy memory for me.
Here love had died between me and the army.
Here the tram lines ended, so that men returning fuddled
from Glasgow could doze in their seats until roused by their
journey's end. There was some way to go from the tram+
top to the camp gates; quarter of a mile in which they
could button their blouses and straighten their caps before
passing the guard-room, quarter of a mile in which concrete
gave place to grass at the road's edge. Th . . .
