The Masters (34 page)

‘I can perfectly well understand that,’ she replied. ‘You naturally don’t want to take the risk of me making an exhibition of myself again.’

‘You don’t think I mind, do you? It would have done you more harm to stay by yourself.’

‘I know some people are willing to bear with me out of charity – but I won’t accept it.’

‘You’ve not been offered it,’ I said. Perversely, I was coming to have more fellow feeling for her. ‘Is Paul free? I’ve got something to tell him that’s fairly important.’

‘He’s very busy,’ she said obstinately. ‘I don’t think he can be disturbed.’

‘Look,’ I said, ‘I want to tell him that this election is not lost.’

‘Has anything happened, has anything really happened?’

‘Yes. Don’t hope too much. But it’s not lost.’

Her face exploded into a smile. She looked like a child, suddenly made happy. She ran out into the passage. ‘Paul! Paul! You must come and see Mr Eliot at once! He’s got something to tell you.’

Jago walked into the drawing-room, tense to his fingertips.

‘It’s extremely good of you to take this trouble, Eliot. Is it something – worse?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s not impossible that Gay may finish on your side. He may not – but it’s worth holding on for.’

‘Old Gay?’

I nodded.

Suddenly Jago broke into roars of laughter.

‘Gay! He’s the vainest old boy I’ve ever met in my life.’

He went on laughing. ‘The vain old boy!’ It was an odd response, I thought later: yet on the spot it seemed completely natural.

Then he wiped his eyes and settled down; his tension returned in a different mode.

‘I’m most grateful to you, Eliot,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what I should have done without you right through this wretched business. This news changes everything. I think I was just teaching myself to face the humiliation. But this changes everything.’

I warned him, but it had no effect. He was always capable of being possessed by a rush of hope. Now there was no room for anything else. It all lay in his hands, the college, his whole desire. He looked at his wife with love and triumph. When I had gone, they would get busy on their plans again. He was alive with hope.

I tried once again to make him more moderate. In some ways it would have been kinder not to tell him about Gay at all.

‘There is one thing you needn’t warn me of, Eliot,’ he said with a smile. ‘There are still six nights to go. We’ve still six nights to get through.’

‘You’ve got to rest,’ she said.

‘In a week’s time,’ said Jago, ‘it will all be over.’

I went from his house straight to Brown’s rooms, and found Brown and Chrystal talking of the meeting. It was as good as arranged for the following night, December 15th. To Brown’s amazement, the other side had not backed out (were they so confident that they did not care? or did Despard-Smith like the last ounce of grave discussion?) They were talking of what line to begin on.

‘Is that the meeting?’ I asked.

‘Certainly,’ said Chrystal.

‘It may not be necessary,’ I said.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Brown very quickly.

‘I think there’s a good chance of Gay coming over.’

‘Have you seen him? I didn’t know you were thinking of seeing him–’

‘No, I wasn’t,’ I said. ‘Roy Calvert and I happened to drop in for tea.’

Brown cross-questioned me with the inquisitiveness he showed at any piece of news, but with an extra excitement and vigilance. His curiosity was always insistent; there were moments, as those sharp eyes watched one, when the company ceased to be bland and peaceful; now it was like being in the dock. Deliberately I played down the part Roy and I had taken – I was feeling Chrystal’s silence on the other side of the fire. Roy had asked the old man a question or two, I said: and I gave word for word his last replies.

In the end Brown was satisfied.

‘It’s absolutely wonderful!’ he cried. Then he turned, heavily but quickly, on his friend. ‘Don’t you think it’s wonderful?’ he said.

Chrystal did not look at him, but stared challengingly at me.

‘Are you sure of this, Eliot?’ he asked.

‘I’m sure of what I’ve told you.’

‘That doesn’t get us very far. He didn’t even say he might vote for Jago.’

‘Not in so many words.’

‘It’s not good enough, Eliot. You’re being led away by your optimism. Wishful thinking,’ said Chrystal. ‘Remember, I’ve had a shot at him myself. I know Gay.’

‘I trust Eliot’s judgement,’ said Brown. His voice was comfortable and rich, as always – but I heard a stern, angry note.

‘It’s not good enough,’ said Chrystal. ‘I dare say the old man will withhold his vote. Just to have a bit of fun. What’s to stop him coming down for Crawford at the end?’

‘I trust Eliot’s judgement,’ said Brown. The stern note was clearer now.

‘I can’t be sure,’ I said. ‘No one can be sure. But I don’t think so for a minute. Neither does Calvert.’

‘I don’t give twopence for Calvert’s opinion. He’s not lived long enough. He hasn’t seen anything yet,’ Chrystal replied.

‘I should bet at least 4–1,’ I said, ‘that when we go into chapel Gay will write down Jago’s name.’

‘I accept that absolutely,’ said Brown, still watching his friend.

‘Well, we disagree,’ said Chrystal. ‘This is all
amusing
about Gay. But I don’t see that it can alter our plans.’

‘We may have this election in our hands,’ said Brown.

‘We may not.’

‘I believe we have. Have you stopped listening to reason?’ Brown’s friendly blandness had broken at last, he spoke with a mixture of menace and appeal.

‘I’m afraid we disagree, Arthur.’

‘You can’t disagree that the sensible course is to get out of this meeting,’ said Brown. ‘Anything else is ridiculous.’

‘I wish I didn’t disagree. I’m afraid I do.’

‘I want an explanation,’ said Brown.

‘Yes. Well, I don’t believe that Gay will come over. I expect Eliot has got everything he said right. But I’ve seen Gay myself.’

‘A lot of water has flowed under the bridges since then,’ cried Brown. ‘These two may have been better at handling the old man than we were.’

‘They wouldn’t claim that themselves,’ said Chrystal. ‘I’m sorry to seem ungrateful for Eliot’s efforts, but I don’t believe in Gay. Even if I did, there’s another point. I think we’re bound to keep our understanding with the other side. They were willing to hold this meeting. They didn’t try to back out when they seemed to be sitting pretty.’

‘Did they ever mean business?’ asked Brown, his voice no longer comfortable at all, but full of scorn.

‘I think they did, Arthur.’

‘I think you deceived yourself. I think you’ve deceived yourself over many things you’ve done in this election. I know you’ve always wanted to find a way out from Crawford. I’ve never doubted that. But you’ve also been glad of a chance to find a way out from Jago. That’s why you’re giving me reasons that aren’t anything like reasons, they’re ridiculous after everything we’ve brought off together. You said yesterday that you’d stay with Jago if I could get him in. Now you’re finding an excuse for spoiling it, just when we’ve got our last chance.’

‘It won’t spoil it, Arthur. If he does stand a chance,’ said Chrystal. ‘Very likely nothing will come out of this meeting. Then if old Gay remembers we might still be all right.’

‘I keep thinking of the things we’ve brought off together. We shouldn’t have managed them alone. We couldn’t even have begun getting that benefaction alone. And that’s been true for a good many years. It’s a pity to find us divided now.’

‘Do you think I don’t feel that?’ said Chrystal brusquely. He had been buoyed up, exhilarated, master of his plans, conscious that others were waiting for him, pleased perhaps to escape from Brown’s steady imperceptible guidance. Yet he was moved by the reminder of their comradeship, by the call on his affection. His manner, which had been conciliatory, became at once tough and aggressive. He was angry to be so moved.

Brown, too, was moved. His composure was riven, he had spoken more jaggedly than I had known him. Through the rifts one saw the formidable core of the man. He had great feeling for his friend, he was warm and expansive – but that did not matter to him now. He was moved by the thought of defeat, by losing the struggle for Jago, by the sheer blank fury of losing. I was sure that he had called deliberately on their friendship, knowing that it would affect Chrystal far more than himself.

‘Aren’t you prepared to stop this meeting?’ asked Brown.

‘I don’t see how I can,’ said Chrystal.

‘I regard it as a major disaster,’ said Brown.

There was a large gathering in hall on the night of December 15th: and afterwards, without waiting for wine, we moved off by twos and threes to Chrystal’s rooms. As we turned under the light at the bottom of the staircase, I noticed Chrystal walking with Despard-Smith and Getliffe. Jago and Crawford appeared out of the darkness together: then Brown alone.

Everyone was there but Gay. Luke, who had not been dining but hurried in after, was apologizing to Despard-Smith for not being able to stay. He made the same apology to Brown, in his smooth, youthful, deferential way. I was sitting near the door, and he had a word with me on his way out. ‘I’ve got an experiment to finish,’ he said in a whisper, forgetting all about tact, ‘and I’m going to finish it if I sit up the whole blasted night. I’ve told these uncles that I’m going to vote for Jago. I’ve been bloody well telling them that ever since I can remember.’

Despard-Smith showed his usual hesitation before taking the chair (‘Some day,’ said Roy half-audibly, ‘we’ll take him at his word. Then he’ll be dished.’). He explained solemnly that some fellows were ‘increasingly exercised about the serious position’ in which the college found itself over the election. He thought he could, without breach of confidence, mention that within the last twenty-four hours he had received two letters from Professor Gay. One he was not at liberty to disclose, since it was addressed to him as having presided over the caucus for one of the candidates, ‘but I think I may say, in fact I think I must say, that our senior colleague in that letter expresses his intention to reserve his vote. The other letter refers to this meeting, and I propose to read it.’ As always when reading, Despard-Smith passed into his chapel voice.

Dear Despard,

‘I learn with interest of your intention to have an informal pow wow’
– Despard-Smith repeated the word with extraordinary and depressed gravity –
‘pow wow before the great day of our election. I thoroughly approve of this little venture, and you may go ahead with my blessing. Did not my saga-men discuss cases in their booths before they came to the great debates in the Thing? I congratulate you on this attempt to clear your heads. Clear heads, those are what you most require. I do not, however, consider that it fits my present position of responsibility to take a hand in your little pow wow. You appear to suggest that I may not want to stay out at night because I am not so young as I was. Pray do not worry on that account. I can outlast some of you younger men yet. If I absent myself, it is on completely different grounds. I am entrusted with the grave responsibility of being at the helm while the college plunges through this stormy crossing. And I should further say that some of our colleagues have represented to me that I have an added trust because of such little distinction as I may have been fortunate enough to attain.

‘Weighing these responsibilities in my mind, I have reached the conclusion I must stand aloof from any discussions among yourselves up to the great day of the election. I shall then cast my vote as my conscience guides me, and I hope to lead you all on that same course, so that we may make a worthy choice.

‘
Good luck to your little pow wow.

‘Ever sincerely yours,

‘M H L Gay.’

‘This does
not
make our task lighter,’ said Despard-Smith, looking up from the letter. ‘So far as I am entitled to judge the intentions of the fellows, we have not yet attained a firm majority for either of our candidates. Some of us think this may lead us into a position which is nothing short of disastrous. I have never known anything comparable during my long association with the college. By this stage we have always been certain before who was going to win our suffrages. We were certain’ – he said, with one of his funereal anticlimaxes – ‘who was going to draw the lucky n-number. But this time we have not been so wise. I should like us to hear the Dean’s views on this most unfortunate dilemma.’

‘It’s lamentable,’ Chrystal began, and went on to make a brisk, reasonable, friendly statement. It had been bad for the college to go through this prolonged suspense. He disliked being separated from his friends on the other side, and he hoped they disliked it too. Either of the candidates would be an excellent Master whom the college would be lucky to get. It was a sign of something wrong that the college should become unfit to live in just because they could not choose between two excellent men. But apparently they could not choose. ‘I’m just pointing out the snags,’ said Chrystal. ‘It’s lamentable. I don’t pretend to see the solution. But I just want to ask one question: has the time come to forget our disagreement? Has the time come to find a way out?’

From that moment the room was electric with attention. This was not just a talk: something was in the air. Even those who had not followed Chrystal’s progress knew something hung on these minutes. Brown’s face was lowering: Jago sat as though he did not hear.

We looked at each other, waiting for someone to begin. At last Crawford spoke. He was even more deliberate than his habit, not so impregnably assured: he was choosing his words.

‘I wish this was such a pleasant occasion as the last time we met in this room. I should much prefer to hear the Dean explain again how he and his friend Brown had brought off their great coup for the college. The more I reflect, the more chances I think that coup of theirs opens up in front of us. As for the present position, I agree with a good deal of what the Dean says. But I don’t consider this is the right time to act. I know this long wait hasn’t improved some of our tempers. But it won’t be much longer. Speaking as a fellow, I don’t see any alternative to waiting. I didn’t quite understand the Dean’s suggestion. I do not know whether he thinks that other names ought to be canvassed now. Speaking as a candidate, I can’t be expected to accept the view that other names ought to be considered at this late stage. I hope that the Senior Tutor agrees with me.’