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Dorothy Sayers' "Gaudy Night": Translations of Latin

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Magdalen Tower, Oxford

One of the Oxford traditions is climbing the Magdalen Tower on May Day. (I suspect that's the origin of my Bryn Mawr College's tradition of climbing Rockefeller Arch to sing the Magdalen Hymn to the Sun on May Day.)

One of the Oxford traditions is climbing the Magdalen Tower on May Day. (I suspect that's the origin of my Bryn Mawr College's tradition of climbing Rockefeller Arch to sing the Magdalen Hymn to the Sun on May Day.)

by Ellen Brundige

Reading Dorothy Sayers is like opening an old bottle of rare and special vintage: one sips literary allusions, Latin, French, Dante, and slices of old British culture like change-ringing and early 20th century Oxford.

Alas, as with rare vintages, there are too few of Sayers' works. That is why, twenty years after graduating from a women's liberal arts college inspired by the same model as Sayers' fictional Shrewsbury, I finally cracked open the prized bottle of Gaudy Night which I have been saving as a rare treat.

Among its pleasures were a smattering of Latin phrases. Understanding these adds to enjoyment of the story, particularly of a few key exchanges between the protagonists Harriet Vane and Lord Peter. Therefore, while I'm enjoying a bit of academic nostalgia, let me dust off my classics training and translate a bit of Sayers for you.

Caveat lector [reader beware]: my commentary below will include spoilers.

Gaudy Night

In Oxford lingo, a gaudy is a college feast, often for alumni or alumnae. The name derives from gaudium, "joy, delight," or, more likely, gaudeamus, "let us rejoice," the first word of a traditional college song that is used in graduation ceremonies and and festive gatherings at old English-speaking universities such as Oxford.

For her title, Sayers takes the college gaudy and adds Shakespeare:

Anthony: Come,
Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me
All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more;
Let's mock the midnight bell. -- Anthony and Cleopatra, Act 3, xiii

Speaking of Shakespeare, we cannot pass over Shrewsbury College and The Taming of the Shrew. Sayers appropriates the name, but rejects the misogyny.

Introduction: In Aeternum Floreant

In Gaudy Night's introduction, Sayers begins with a gracious apology to the real Oxford for adapting, remodeling and repopulating it with a fictional college to serve as her story's setting.

"It would be idle to deny that the City and University of Oxford (in aeternum floreant) do actually exist..."

in aeternum floreant = subjunctive, "Forever may they thrive."

Chapter I: Statutum Est Quod

Returning to her illustrious alma mater with a slightly blemished reputation, protagonist Miss Vane fortifies herself against insecurity by remembering:

"Whatever I may have done since, this remains. Scholar; Master of Arts; Domina; Senior Member of this University (statutum est quod Juniories Senioribus debitam et congruam reverentiam tum in privato tum in publico exhibeant.)"

Translation of italics: "It is established that Junior Members should display, both in private and in public, the respect which is owed and appropriate to Senior Members." Imagine a time when the college handbook was in Latin!

Domina is "mistress," feminine of Dominus.

Chapter 2: Invitis Occurrit...

Chapter 2 (and several other chapters) begins with a quote from Oxford scholar Robert Burton's 1621 work, The Anatomy of Melancholy. This early treatise on human psychology (before the discipline was so named) entertained readers with literary quotes, observations on human culture, comments on the discoveries in the New World and parts east, and a Renaissance approach to scholarship which we nowadays might call "interdisciplinary." It was a popular book in educated British circles from the 17th through mid-20th century, when (I suspect) its bad anthropology and out-of-date science became too obvious to ignore. Sayers was attuned not to those problems but to Burton's lively insights into what we now call psychology, anxiety and depression.

By referencing Burton, Sayers is footnoting one source of her own writing style. Throughout Gaudy Night, both she and her academically-minded characters take pains to cite their sources openly and honestly, in contrast to the perpetrator's crude, anonymous messages.

Here's my translation of Chapter 2's Burton quote in square brackets:

"'Tis proper to all melancholy men, saith Mercurialis, what conceit they have once entertained to be most intent, violent and continually about it. Invitis occurrit [To them, unwilling as they are, it comes running],do what they may, they cannot be rid of it, against their wills they must think of it a thousand times over, perpetuo molestantur, nec oblivisci possunt [they are constantly harassed by it, nor can they forget it], they are continually troubled with it, in company, out of company; at meat, at exercise, at all times and places, non desinunt ea,quae minime volunt, cogitare [nor can they leave off pondering those things which they least wish [to ponder], if it be offensive especially, they cannot forget it."

Chapter 3: ὂν καὶ μὴ ὂν

On the penultimate page of this chapter, Miss Vane thinks nostalgically of Shrewsbury's denizens:

"Bless their hearts, how refreshing and soothing and good they all were, walking beneath their ancient beeches and meditating on ὂν καὶ μὴ ὂν and the finance of Queen Elizabeth."

Actually, my copy of Gaudy Night has: ὂν χαὶ μὴ υὂ, but the underlined words are typos. ὂν καὶ μὴ ὂν means, literally, "isness and not isness" or "being and not being." For those who remember grammar, ὂν is the gerund (noun form) of the verb "is."

ὂν καὶ μὴ ὂν is from Marlowe's Faustus, Act I, scene I, line 12, when Faust is "bidding farewell" to the Greek philosopher Aristotle (who discusses "being and not being," riffing on Parmenides' philosophical poem On Nature.) Even in Faustus, the phrase gets mangled in some editions, since so few printers know Greek.

Chapter 4: Vade in pacem

Wait, hold on, don't run away just because I used the words "ontology" and "existentialism"! Let's get back onto steadier ground.

Second page of Chapter 4: Vade in pacem — "Go in peace." Hm, that's the usual translation, but I notice the grammar really implies "go into peace."

Chapter 4: Num? Benigne.

Wimsey's April 1st marriage proposal is unimposing, sad, and to the point:

One First of April, the question had arrived from Paris in a single Latin sentence, starting off dispiritedly, "Num...?"—a particle which notoriously "expects the answer No." Harriet, rummaging the Grammar book for "polite negatives," replied, still more briefly, "Benigne."

I envy the days when Latin grammars still had lists of "polite negatives," when people still studied Latin to compose and write in it, not just to translate dead texts.

I've therefore never seen benigne used as any sort of "polite negative," but the word is a vocative (?) form of benignus, "affable, kind-hearted." So I take it to mean, "[No], kind sir." (It could also be adverbial: "Kindly, [no].") Harriet doesn't nail the door shut with an explicit non.

This brief exchange sets up the final couplet of Gaudy Night on its last page— stay tuned.

Chapter 4: Post Occasio Calva

Final page of Chapter 4: per impossibile — "by means of an impossibility," a logical fallacy resting on a "contrary to fact" premise which would give Parmenides fits. ("If wishes were horses...")

Final page of Chapter 4: Post occasio calva. "Opportunity is bald after[wards]."

Eh? Ah, it's half a quote. Supposedly said by that bullish statesman of the Roman republic, Cato the Elder: Fronte capillata, post Occasio calva."Opportunity [is] hairy in front, bald after."

Or, to put it another way, when an opportunity trots towards you, you had better grab it by the forelock, because it has no tail.

Chapter 8: The Poison Pen Calls Shrewsbury a Nest of Harpies

The Poison Pen of Gaudy Night sticks to English invectives, except for one Latin quote stuck to a hung effigy of a woman in scholar's robes. The passage comes from Vergil's Aeneid (Book III):

tristius haud illis monstrum nec saevior ulla
pestis et ira deum Stygiis sese extulit undis.
Virginei volucrum vultus foedissima ventris
proluvies uncaeque manus et pallida semper
ora fame.


No more dismal apparition than these, nor any more savage
pestilence nor [sign of] gods' wrath heaves itself from Stygian waves.*
The birds' faces are those of maidens, [but] the foulest excrement
[flows] from their wombs, their hands [are] taloned, and their mouths
are ever pale with hunger.

*Styx is a mythical river in the underworld.

These monsters are the Harpies, vulture-like monsters with women's faces who nearly starved to death King Phineas by constantly snatching the meat from his table. (He was only saved by the timely intervention of the Argonauts, a squad of male heroes.) The quote is a metaphor for the vicious prankster's grudge against the learned women of Shrewsbury.

Chapter 9: Les Beaux Yeux

After a literal run-in with Miss Vane, Viscount Saint-George sends her a pathetic and self-deprecating invitation to lunch. Harriet is not fooled:

"My dear young man, thought Harriet... if you think I can't see though that, you're mightily mistaken. This is not for me, but for les beaux yeux del la casette de l'oncle Pierre."

My very little French suggests it means "the beautiful eyes of the treasure of Uncle Peter." That is, Saint-George is buttering her up for the purpose of keeping in his uncle's good graces.

Chapter 12: Admirandus Flos

Chapter 12 begins with a couple more quotes from Robert Burton, including:

As a Tulipant to the Sun (which our herbalists call Narcissus) when it shines, is admirandus flos ad radios solis se pandens, a glorious Flower exposing itself; but when the Sun sets, or a tempest comes, it hides itself, pines away, and hath no pleasure all Enamoratoes to their Mistress.

The phrase immediately after the Latin is a rough translation, but leaves words out. More literally: "a flower that must be admired, spreading itself to the sun's rays."

Narcissus, of course, is a mythical Greek youth cursed by the gods to fall in love with his own reflection, so that he perished of self-contemplation; thus this passage has a hidden irony.

Enamoratoes is one of the odder terms I've ever seen for "lovers" (or, perhaps, "the infatuated").

Chapter 12: Mulier Vel Meretrix

Reggie Pomfret's unfortunate marriage proposal to Harriet (with its amusing mental image of Harriet deflecting him with, "Drop it, Caesar," to a large dog) is interrupted by the arrival of a Proctor and minions. We get another snippet of university regulations (I assume) written in Latin, with an ambiguity at the beginning serving as a cipher for Miss Vane's uncomfortable life choices:

mulier vel meretrix, cujus consortio Christianis prorsus interdictum est.

"...[whether] wife or mistress, association with her is utterly forbidden to Christian men."

By the way, while it's used here as a euphemistic pejorative, the term consortio usually implies fellowship, partnership, an association of equals or comrades (consortes). This is exactly what Harriet wants with Peter, but believes she can never have due to the appalling debt of gratitude she owes him for saving her life. One of the plot threads of Gaudy Night is a courtship in which Peter ties himself in knots trying not to protect Harriet from mortal danger in order to cancel that debt.

Young Pomfret immediately eliminates himself from contention by promising to defend Miss Vane against the world, only to have her rescue him from the Proctor's clutches a moment later.

Chapter 12: Climbing Trees in the Hesperides

Harriet protects her ridiculous would-be suitor from the Proctor:

"I can assure you that we haven't been climbing trees." A wicked facility in quotation tempted her to add "except in the Hesperides," but she respected Mr. Pomfret's feelings and restrained herself.

The Hesperides were mythical trees on the edge of the world where grew the Golden Apples that Hercules was sent to collect. In particular, this is an allusion to one of Shakespeare's earliest comedies, Love's Labours Lost:

"For valour, is not Love a Hercules,
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?" (IV.iii)

The entire scene with Pomfret is a farce, if not a comedy. The passage in Shakespeare expounds upon how poets may abandon learned studies for the sake of love. To quote that aloud would have reminded Pomfret that his love's labor was a lost cause.

Chapter 14 - Religio Medici

Religio Medici is not the religion of the Medicii family (an odd book for Lord Peter to be reading, I thought, completely bungling both spelling and grammar). Rather, it is the Religion of a Doctor, that is, a scientist or learned man. Written by another 17th century Oxford scholar, Sir Thomas Browne, this controversial and once-popular text was an intelligent man's exercise in reconciling science and religion.

Chapter 20: Mandragorae Dederunt Odorem

Lord Peter couches feelings in Latin rather often to take the sting out of them. About five pages into chapter 20 he mutters mandragorae dederunt odorem ["the mandragoras give off a scent"]. It's quote from the Vulgate Bible's translation of "Song of Songs" about love, courtship and marriage. Mandragora roots, like so many herbs, are supposedly aphrodisiac.

Chapter 23: More Robert Burton Latin

Robert Burton, that doctor of the soul, prescribes various cures for lovesickness in The Anatomy of Melancholy, and in the end stops beating around the bush (as does Sayers, quoting this passage at the start of chapter 23):

The last refuge and surest remedy, to be put in practice in the utmost place, when no other means will take effect, is to let them go together, and enjoy one another: potissima cura est ut heroes amasia sua potiatur, saith Guianerius, cap. 15. tract. 15. Aesculapius himself, to this malady, cannot invent a better remedy, quam ut amanti cedat amatum,[5829](Jason Pratensis) than that a lover have his desire.

The translation is embedded in the passage, as was the Latin quote at the beginning of Chapter 20 which I have omitted, however, Thomas' translation loses the active/passive nuances of the Latin grammar:

potissima cura est ut heroes amasia sua potiatur — "the most powerful cure is that the hero take possession of his beloved" (potiatur is a curious word, passive in form, active in meaning, so that it also can be translated "be possessed by"),

quam ut amanti cedat amatum — "than that the beloved object yield to its lover." The active/passive relationship is very strongly marked here, using amatum, "the thing loved," for "beloved." cedo means "yield," but its sense of "receive" sometimes stretches enough to mean "take," so like potiatur its active/passive sense is slightly ambiguous.

Obviously, Sayers was trying to stress a relationship of equals, so Thomas' glossing over the active/passive nuances helps; at the same time, the only way Wimsey and Vane can overcome their impasse is if they can each accept active (taking, potiatur) or passive (accepting, cedat) roles on occasion.

End of Gaudy Night: Placetne?

Gaudy Night concludes with a suitably touching Latin proposal whose translation is what induced me to write this page. It looks so simple, those deceptively plain, impersonal verb forms:

"Placetne, magistra?" "Does it please [thee], Mistress?"
"Placet." "It pleases."

But of course, it is not simple, and this is what simple Latin is for.

Whereas we use impersonal verb forms like "It's raining" or "it's hot" for boring things like the weather (while Germans, more correctly, say "it's hot to me,") Latin has a maddening habit of expressing opinions and even feelings with impersonal verbs like placet, "it pleases," a verb which is always impersonal in form while talking about personal feelings. Peter and Harriet, who have been carrying on an extended conversation about the reconciliation of heart and mind through this entire book, find a Latin word to do the job for them.

Magistra is "Mistress" in the sense of Master of Arts, respecting Harriet as a scholar and writer; it is also an honorific for "Lady," subtly emphasizing her choice and agency in the matter.

The -ne at the end of Peter's question is the sweet part, and the most significant part, and the part that just cannot be translated. Remember that odd Latin word num used to prefix questions when you expect a "no" answer? -ne is its opposite number, a question which confidently expects the answer will be "yes." That tiny shift from num to -ne sums up a five-year courtship in five letters.


Sally Asmundson on April 14, 2020:

Just finished “Gaudy Night”. Read it first in 1964 at 24 and loved it, then again at 47 and now as an escape from the vagaries of life in the midst of covid-19. How delightful to find your fun and informative post. I may have looked up all the quotes and Latin once but of course had forgotten. It is still my favorite Sayers book but I think I’ll read some others again now.

Daniel Kaminski on March 02, 2020:

Thanks, Ellen Brundige, for your thoughtful article. While reading Gaudy Night, I thought Wouldn't it be nice if I didn't have to keep looking this stuff up? I just finished, and your article came up in a search of the final exchange.

My first Dorothy Sayers, will not be the last! Oddly, I was the only person in my Book Club at the local Library who liked it enough to finish it. I loved all the little asides, threads, insights. Unlike most Mysteries, the plot was just the string, the rest were the ornaments.

Jocelyn on March 01, 2020:

One of my favorite to reread, with Strong Poison as introduction, so I am extremely grateful for these subtle explanations.

Dion Berlowitz on December 23, 2019:

Actually Raymond Chandler’s comment about “schoolboy French” was directed at Agatha Christie - not Sayers. It was still cruel and unfair.

m on October 20, 2019:

Thank you for writing this page.

Chloe on January 20, 2019:

Vade in pacem, I believe, is the dismissal at the end of the Catholic Mass in Latin. A fun double meaning :)

K on October 10, 2018:

Most excellent! Thank you!

To add my tuppence on the -ne discussion: I suspect there is also a resonance of English in the use of this particle, in that it echoes the English construction "doesn't it please [thee]?" In any case, I delightedly agree about the significance of getting away from "num" without going all the way to "nonne"!

Vanessa on September 07, 2018:

This was lovely! Thanks so much!

JennyCBee on August 28, 2018:

Love this! Thanks for the post!

Christine Nutton on February 20, 2018:

Placet is of course the formal way of registering a yes vote in a Congregation of the Senate, an assembly of Senior Members. Placetne Magistri is the way a motion was put to the vote. So Peter is deliberately using courtly formality and, more significantly, speaking as one MA to another. Oxford is thus the essential context for the final attainment of equilibrium in the relationship.

Markus on February 18, 2018:

As Anon and Denise have said below, the opposite to 'num?' is 'nonne?', and it wouldn't have been convenient to LPW asking this ultimative question in such a over-self-confident way. The postfix -ne indicate a neutral question.

Norma Gowlett on December 12, 2017:

I've been looking for help with these Latin (and Greek) phrases for years. This is a wonderful explanation, making me want to go back to the study of Latin. Thanks.

Dana on October 15, 2017:

Thank you for all of these translations! Our book club is reading Gaudy Night and your work will help us get a fuller understanding.

Sarah on September 11, 2017:

Wow, I'm so impressed by the detailed, nuanced translations you've given. Thank you so much. I'm just beginning to learn some Latin and reading your translations along with Sayers work gives me hope that it might not be the dry, "scientific" language I have always thought it to be, but a language capable of capturing and expressing beautiful thought and emotion. Thank you again!

Victoria on July 05, 2017:

This really deepened my enjoyment of the book, especially the end. Thank you!

Laurie on May 26, 2017:

Thank you — just what I needed, having finished Gaudy Night for probably the fourth time (love this Sayers novel) and for the first time I completely understand the Latin.

Katherine on March 28, 2017:

Thank you so much for this! Invaluable while reading for the first time. I'm very grateful.

William Rothwell on March 13, 2017:

On finishing my n'th reading of Gaudy Night (sequencing through the Wimsey and Wimsey/Vane books), I decided to look for a linguistic clue to the 'Placetne/Placet' interchange (my high school Latin having been acquired around 60 years ago)... Having done so via Google search, I discovered your lovely insights to Dorothy Sayers' writings. A hearty Thanks! to you...

(Having run out of the original Sayers writings, I too have found the works of Jill Patton Walsh, and am enjoying them greatly on their own, as an addendum to the great Sayers world.)

Denise on August 02, 2016:

Anon, I think you're right. Nonne is for when you expect a yes, and -ne is neutral. It's certainly more in keeping with Wimsey's MO with regard to Harriet to not ask that question in expectation of a yes. (It makes me wonder--could Harriet's pride have withstood a -nonne? I suspect not.)

Anon on May 29, 2016:

Lovely look at the Latin of Gaudy Night. Wonderful to read.

However I'm a little confused at the passage about 'Placetne Magistra'. I could have sworn that while -num does indeed indicate the expectation of a negative, it was -nonne that shows expectation of a positive. The sweetest part of that all important question suffix for me was that -ne expects no answer at all, he leaves it entirely up to her, not assuming she'll take him or that she'll reject him. Please let me know what you think.

Christine Reuther on May 15, 2016:

My mother handed me Gaudy Night when I was recovering from having my wisdom teeth out (about 40 years ago). Actually, she threw an old paperback at me and said "Read this. You'll like it." I did. And I did. I have re-read it many times since. Your translation and explanation of the proposal really added something this last read through. I shared a link to your translation on the Lord Peter Wimsey Appreciation Society FB page. The members of the group greatly appreciate your insight.

ManipledMutineer on October 10, 2015:

Many thanks for this. This is a book I have come back to over and over again over a twenty year period, most recently when tidying my study prompted my wife and me to watch the Edward Petherbridge/Harriet Walter dramatisation of the Wimsey/Vane story arc. This time I determined on a slow, meditative reading and your page was a most enjoyable companion. Thank you once again.

Jo on September 26, 2015:

Thank you so much for translating the Latin passages in this wonderful book. I didn't study Latin as it just wasn't taught when I went to school, so I came up with very odd translations from Google translate. Thank you especially for the final Placetne, magistra? translation, which now takes on a far lovelier and sweeter nuance, than before. I love this fictional couple and their long and difficult courtship.

DebboK on July 20, 2015:

Thank you very much for the translations. I just finished reading Gaudy Nights for the first time and your post has illuminated several key moments in the plot that were pivotal to understanding the complex relationship between Harriet and Peter. The sweetness of the final "Placetne, Magistra?" followed by "Placet" has me a little choked up. Most of us have struggled with one or more relationships along the way and balancing the "yielding" and the "taking" is critical for the bonding of equals.

Bookbimbo on February 16, 2015:

Thank you for this tremendously helpful and insightful page. So sensitively explained.

Bill Whipple on August 12, 2014:

Thanks for this lovely essay. I have read all of the Sayers books to the point where I could probably recite them from memory, and I was able to dredge from my mental attic enough of the Latin I studied long ago to make rough translations. But the subtle implications were lost on me, and I never learned any Greek at all -- so I bless you for these explanations.

But what is the meaning of the passage from Aristotle in chap. 17, by which Lord Peter zaps the Warden with her own cattle prod?

Mary Romine on August 07, 2014:

Thank you so much for this. I developed a literary crush on Lord Peter after reading Clouds of Witness while attending women's liberal arts college 20-plus years ago. Finally reading Gaudy Night. I was sorely vexed that I was not able to translate LP's final - successful - marriage proposal. Raptures...

Carol Rez on April 05, 2014:

Thoroughly enjoyed your insights and the book. Science majors can go back and find these treasures on retirement. I have a better understanding of the Bryn Mawr experience of my daughter and her friends. In fact,it was a Facebook discussion of the book among them and a decision to assign it to a new generation of college students that prompted me to read it. It is now my book club choice and I am using your notes to prepare for the discussion. thanks!

Ellen (author) from California on July 24, 2013:

Oh, that TV version was so frustrating: the right actors with an abysmally-crafted script. The other episodes in the series were fine, but that one was a choppy, incoherent mishmash that drained away much of the joy of the book and piled on a greasy dollop of gender stereotyping that ran absolutely counter to what Sayers wrote.

I'm glad my scribbles helped decipher some of Sayers' shrewd wit.

Annys on July 24, 2013:

I'm delighted to find an article such as this, particularly by a woman! I've often wondered about the quotations, and felt that the final proposal was rather more than it seemed - so much so that I felt very disappointed by the inept treatment given it by the TV version. Many thanks indeed.

lincolnhyde on May 07, 2013:

I have enjoyed the Peter Wimsey books all of my life, but not having had the English classical education, had not appreciated them as much as I might have - I really appreciate your efforts in adding that little soupcon of enjoyment.

Emilia on April 02, 2013:

I enjoy Sayer's Peter Wimsey, more than Harriet. I read one of of Mrs. Walshe's books about them and didn't like it at all. I don't think she gets even close to Sayer's talent.

Valeria11 on January 25, 2013:

I'd like to add my praise to the accolades above. Your piece has greatly added to my enjoyment of the novel, which I've just finished.

Nancy Bea Miller on January 06, 2013:

I am new to Hub Pages and wondering if there is any way to contact you via email or private message? I have a few further questions.

Ellen (author) from California on January 06, 2013:

It is difficult to add even a molecule to one of the finest books of the 20th century, but... gratias tibi (thank you)!

Nancy Bea Miller on January 05, 2013:

Amazing to find this post, which so beautifully and clearly explains much that was only guessed at by me when I first read this novel over twenty years ago. I am simply in awe of the internet. And also in awe of you, Madame Greek Geek! Many many thanks! You've added such a delicious new flavor to my delectation of this wonderful novel.

Ellen (author) from California on October 21, 2012:


(How odd. I just hit my books trying to find an idiom for "you're welcome," and it seems that my memory is not leaky: there are several formulas for "thanks" but nothing that means, precisely, "you're welcome!")

Best of luck to you all! I wish I lived a little closer to Portland; Gaudy Night on stage would be superb. If you'd like, feel free to drop a note here pointing to your website, with the dates of the show, when you've got them pinned down. I've a few friends up north who might want to go.

PaulGinWA on October 20, 2012:

Thank you! Taproot Theater in Seattle is about to conclude a run of a stage version and I was quite stymied by the ending lines, deducing that it was Latin, but lacking subtitles and translation. Ego sum in debitum tuum.

Ellen (author) from California on September 29, 2012:

Pavlova: I'm afraid all my schoolbook French has dribbled out my ears, so I'm completely tone deaf to Sayers' use of it. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss, I suppose! Cheers from across the pond.

jt on September 29, 2012:

thanks for sharing... very helpful!

Pavlovafowl from France on August 16, 2012:

A most interesting page!. Raymond Chandler wrote a scathing critique on Dorothy L. Sayers' 'drawing room' detective fiction, including a sideswipe at what he termed her use of schoolbook French. I think there's room for several sub genres of detective fiction, including her approach and that of Chandler's mean and dirty streets. I enjoy them both, the streetwise, wisecracking jargon and the Latin and Greek just add a little pepper and salt to the richness of their respective prose. Thanks for posting this, I enjoyed reading your commentary. Best Wishes from France, Sue P.S. Have read Jill Patton Walsh's 'Sayers' tales too and agree with you.

Ellen (author) from California on January 23, 2012:

A new writer, Jill Patton Walsh, has gotten permission to write new Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane books, the first one based on the notes and drafts of an unpublished work by Sayers. I should write reviews of them, shouldn't I? I enjoyed them, but of course, they're not as well-written as the originals.

Kate Swanson from Sydney on January 22, 2012:

I used to love Dorothy L Sayers! It's such a pity she didn't write more. It's a long time since I read any of them, because I've read them all at least twice over - and I'm one of those people who never usually reads the same book twice. Maybe I should open them again...