Charles Snow - The Masters

‘What happens then?’ said Chrystal, pressing his point.

‘I shouldn’t like to guess,’ said Brown. ‘I suppose the greatest danger is that he would prefer the one who is more distinguished outside the college.’

‘He couldn’t appoint Jago,’ said Chrystal. ‘He’s not a churchman, and he hasn’t got any reputation for his work.’

‘Surely Crawford’s politics would be against him,’ I remarked.

‘I wish I were absolutely certain of that,’ said Brown. ‘Isn’t the Bishop a bit of a crank himself? Isn’t he one of those confounded Churchill men who want to make trouble? I’ve heard that he’s not sound. We can’t rely on him to do the statesmanlike thing.’

‘He’ll never give it to Crawford,’ Chrystal announced. ‘Everyone knows that he’s an unbeliever too. He’s never kept it dark. I can’t credit that he’d give it to Crawford. You can rule that out.’

‘I very much hope you’re right. It’s extremely reassuring to hear,’ said Brown, smiling but with his watchful eyes on his friend. ‘I’m becoming quite reconciled to the idea of the Visitor.’

‘I don’t intend you to be. In my view, he’s certain to bring in an outsider.’

Chrystal spoke with assurance, almost as though he had inside knowledge. In fact, I suspected later that he had actually heard something from the other side.

It puzzled me, and it also puzzled me that he had asked me to join him and Brown that evening. Normally he would have discussed it in secret with Brown, and they would have decided their policy before any of the party, or anyone else in the college, had a chance to know their minds. It puzzled me: I could see that it disconcerted Brown. But soon I felt that Chrystal knew, right from the beginning, that he and Brown were bound to disagree. In his curiously soft-hearted way, Chrystal fought shy of a scene; he did not want to quarrel; he was afraid of the claims of friendship.

So he had asked me to be present. He had avoided an intimate scene. He could not have borne to be prevented. He had seen a chance to act, and all his instincts drove him on.

He said: ‘He’s certain to bring in an outsider. That would be the biggest disaster.’

‘I don’t agree with you there,’ said Brown. ‘I could tolerate most outsiders in front of Crawford.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Chrystal. ‘I like to know whom we’re getting. If it came to the worst, I should prefer the devil we know. With Crawford, we should be certain where we were from the start. No, I don’t want an outsider. I don’t want it to go to the Visitor.’

‘Nor do I,’ I said. I turned to Brown. ‘It would mean that we had lost it for Jago.’

‘I see that,’ said Brown reluctantly.

‘It’s just conceivable the Visitor might put Crawford in,’ I said. ‘But he’d never give us Jago over Crawford’s head. Jago’s junior and less distinguished. If it goes to the Visitor, it will either be Crawford or a third person.’

‘I don’t see any way out of that,’ said Brown.

‘There isn’t,’ said Chrystal. ‘But there’s one thing we’ve never tackled. There are the two candidates themselves. I come back to them. We’ve got to force them to vote for each other.’

‘Well,’ said Brown, ‘I don’t for the life of me see how you’re going to do that. You can’t expect Crawford to make a present of the Mastership to Jago. That’s all you’re asking him to do. I don’t see Crawford suddenly becoming a public benefactor.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Chrystal. ‘Suppose he’s convinced that a stalemate means that he’s out. He knows there’s only one vote in it. As you said, funny things happen in elections. Don’t you think he might gamble? It’s the only chance he’s got. It only means he has to win another vote. He may.’ Chrystal looked with his full commanding eyes at Brown, and repeated: ‘He may. Someone may cross over. Are you dead certain of Pilbrow?’

‘No. But I shall be disappointed if we can’t hold him.’

‘I repeat,’ said Chrystal, ‘Crawford knows it’s pretty even. He knows this way is his only chance. Why shouldn’t he chance it?’

‘What about Jago?’

‘If we brought it off, we should be presenting him with a decent chance of victory on a plate,’ said Chrystal fiercely. ‘I shouldn’t have much use for Jago if he raised difficulties.’

‘That’s all very well,’ Brown was frowning, ‘but they’re both strong men in their different fashions. And they’ve gone out of their way to tell us definitely that they refuse to vote for each other.’

‘We’ll threaten them with a third candidate.’

Chrystal’s plan was simple. The college was divided between two men, and did not wish for an outsider. It had a right to ask those two to save them from an outsider. Just one step was needed — for the ‘solid people’ on both sides to get together and threaten to switch to a third candidate if the other two refused. Chrystal had already heard something from Getliffe and Despard-Smith; they were no happier about the Visitor than he was; he was convinced that they would take part in his plan.

‘I don’t like it,’ said Brown.

‘What’s the matter?’ Chrystal challenged him.

‘I like being as friendly with the other side as I can. But I don’t like arrangements with them. You never know where they lead.’

They were speaking with all the difference of which they were capable. Brown, the genial, the peacemaker, became more uncompromising the more deeply he was probed. Both his rock-like stubbornness and his wary caution held him firm. While Chrystal, behind his domineering beak, was far more volatile, more led by his moods, more adventurous and willing to take a risk. The long stagnation had bored him; he was, unlike Brown, not fitted by nature for a conflict of attrition. Now all his interest was alive again. He was stimulated by the prospect of new talks, moves, combinations, and coalitions. He was eager to use his nerve and will.

‘It’s worth trying,’ said Chrystal. ‘If we want to win, we’ve no option.’

‘I’m convinced we ought to wait.’

‘It ought to be done tomorrow.’

‘I shall always feel that if we hadn’t rushed things about seeing Jago, we might have Nightingale in our pocket to this day,’ said Brown.

It was the first time I had heard him reproach his friend.

‘I don’t accept that. I don’t think it’s a fair criticism. Nothing would have kept Nightingale sweet. Don’t you think so, Eliot?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

Chrystal asked me another question: ‘Do you agree that we ought to have a discussion with some of the other side?’

‘Can you bring it off?’ I replied. ‘If not, I should have thought it was better not to try. We shall have exposed ourselves.’

‘I’ll bring it off,’ said Chrystal, and his voice rang with zest.

‘Then it might win the Mastership for Jago,’ I said.

‘It’s worth trying,’ said Chrystal. ‘It must be tried.’

Brown had been watching me as I answered. Then he watched Chrystal, and sank into silence, his chin set so that one noticed the heavy, powerful jowl. He thought for some time before he spoke.

‘I’ll join a discussion if you arrange one. I don’t like it but I’ll join in.’ He had weighed it up. He saw that, with skill and luck, it might turn out well for Jago. He saw the danger more clearly than anyone there. But he was apprehensive that, if he did not join, Chrystal might make an overture on his own account.

He added: ‘I shan’t feel free to express myself enthusiastically if we do meet the other side. Unless they put it all plain and above board. And I shall not want to bring any pressure on the two candidates.’

‘So much the better. If you and I disagree, they’ll feel there isn’t a catch in it,’ said Chrystal, with a tough, active, friendly smile.