Charles Snow - The Masters

‘I believe they think we’ve treated Winslow badly. That’s the thought they’ve gone away with.’ Chrystal added, with hurt and angry force: ‘Jago is amusing .’

‘He wanted to soften the blow,’ said Brown.

‘There may have been a bit of policy in it,’ I suggested. ‘He may have wanted to make a gesture. He’s bound to be thinking of the election.’

‘Certainly. I was glad to see him showing some political sense at last,’ said Brown. He had followed my lead with his unceasing vigilance: he knew it was untrue, as well as I did: we were trying to take Chrystal’s attention away.

‘I don’t believe it, Eliot,’ retorted Chrystal.

‘He’s not a simple character,’ I went on.

‘I give you that,’ Chrystal said. ‘By God, I give you that. And there’s something I wouldn’t confess outside this room.’ He paused and looked at us. ‘There are times,’ he said slowly, ‘when I see the other side’s case against Jago. He’s too much up and down. He’s all over you one minute. Then he discovers some reason for getting under one’s skin as he did this afternoon. I say, I wouldn’t confess it outside this room, but there are times when I have my doubts. Don’t you? Either of you?’

‘No,’ said Brown with absolute firmness.

‘Some of what you say is true,’ I said. ‘But I thought it over when I decided on Jago. I didn’t believe it mattered enough to count against him. I still don’t.’

‘Not more than you did?’

‘No, less,’ I said.

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Chrystal.

Then Chrystal said, with a pretence of offhandedness: ‘Anyway, it doesn’t look as though we’re going to get him in.’

‘I don’t quite follow you,’ said Brown, but his eyes were piercing.

‘Has Pilbrow cabled back to you yet?’

‘Not yet.’

‘There you are. I shall expect him when I see him. Sometime next year.’

‘I’ve never known you rush to conclusions so fast,’ Brown said, ‘as you have done over this election.’ A deep frown had settled on his face.

‘I knew we shouldn’t get over it,’ said Chrystal, ‘the day I heard about Royce’s cancer. People still don’t know what we’ve lost.’

‘I can’t regard that as a reason,’ Brown said, ‘for not settling down to play our hand.’

Chrystal said: ‘You haven’t denied the facts. You can’t deny them.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, you’ve had no reply from Pilbrow. It’s a bad sign. And the votes are 6–6.’

‘There’s nothing at all sensible to be done.’

‘Nothing at all,’ I added.

‘Is that absolutely true?’ Chrystal was talking to Brown in a tone of great reason and friendliness. ‘Look, I’ll put up a case for you to knock down. We threatened those two prima donnas that if they didn’t play we’d settle on a third candidate. The other side were only too anxious to come in. Men like old Despard and Getliffe didn’t like this lamentable position any more than we did. And I don’t believe Crawford did. I’ve got some respect for their judgement. Did you notice that they were very forthcoming this afternoon? More than some of their own side. Well, I should like to know their line of thought tonight. What do they expect? They know it’s 6–6 as well as we do. Do you think they’ve heard about Pilbrow?’

‘I should think that it’s extraordinarily unlikely.’

‘I should like to know,’ said Chrystal, ‘whether their thoughts have turned to a third candidate again.’

Brown was flushed.

‘It’s possible they may have,’ he said, ‘but it wouldn’t be a very profitable speculation. It couldn’t get anywhere unless we were foolish enough to meet them halfway.’

‘I shouldn’t like to dismiss it,’ said Chrystal.

‘I’m sorry to hear you say so,’ said Brown.

‘We should have to feel our way. We shouldn’t have to give away a point. But I should like a chance to explore it.’

‘Have they made any approaches?’ I asked.

‘Not to me,’ said Chrystal.

‘Do you intend to?’

He looked truculent.

‘Only if I see an opening,’ he said.

‘I very much hope you won’t,’ said Brown sternly and with great weight.

‘It’s only as a last resort. If we can’t get our man in.’ All the time Chrystal was trying to placate Brown, trying to persuade him all was well: he was working to get rid of the heavy, anxious, formidable frown that had stayed on Brown’s face. ‘After all,’ said Chrystal, with his trace of the gamin, ‘you didn’t like our last effort. But it came off.’

‘We were luckier than we deserved.’

‘We need a bit of luck.’

‘Nothing will reconcile me,’ said Brown, ‘to any more approaches from our side. They can only give the others one impression. And that is, without putting too fine a point on it, that we’ve lost faith in our man.’

He looked at Chrystal.

‘I realize you’ve always had your misgivings,’ he went on. ‘But that’s all the more reason why you shouldn’t have any dealings with the other side. This isn’t the time to give them any inkling that you’re not a whole-hogger. The only safe course is to leave them in their ignorance.’

‘If they make a move?’

‘We ought to cross that bridge when we come to it.’ Then Brown relaxed. ‘I’m sorry Jago let his tongue run away with him this afternoon.’

‘That didn’t affect me one way or the other,’ Chrystal said curtly. ‘It doesn’t alter the situation.’

‘We’d better all sleep on it,’ said Brown. ‘I expect you’ll agree tomorrow that we’ve got to sit tight. It’s the only statesmanlike thing to do.’

‘I should let you know,’ said Chrystal, ‘before I spoke to anyone.’

The next day, December 12th, began for me with a letter which took my mind right away from the college. When I dined in hall that night, my private preoccupation had so affected me that I felt I was a visitor from outside. The college was full of rumours, hushed conversation, tête-à-têtes; in the combination room Francis Getliffe and Winslow spent several minutes talking in a corner. The chief rumours that night were that an informal meeting of the whole college was to be held to discuss the deadlock: and that Nightingale was just on the point of sending round another flysheet.

I had three impressions of extreme sharpness. The first was that Brown was deeply troubled, even more than he had been during the talk with Chrystal the previous night. Chrystal was not dining, and Brown slipped away by himself immediately after hall. I did not get the chance of a word with him. My second impression was that Nightingale behaved as though he had something up his sleeve. And the third, and much the strongest, was that Jago felt that night assured that he was in.

Perhaps, I thought, it was one of those intermissions that come in any period of anxiety: one is waiting for an answer, one goes to bed anxious, wakes up for no reason suffused with hope, suffused with hope so strong that it seems the answer has already come.

Anyway, Jago was quite relaxed, his voice easy; he did not have to clown; he did not make a remark which drew attention to himself. He spoke to Crawford with such friendliness, such quiet warmth, such subdued but natural confidence, that Crawford seemed out of his depth. He had never seen his rival like this before, he had never felt the less comfortable of the two.

I walked away from the combination room with Jago. He had promised to show me a small comet which had become visible a night or two before, and we climbed to the top of a staircase in the second court. There, looking over the garden to the east, he made me see a blur of light close to the faintest star of the Great Bear. He had been an amateur astronomer since childhood, and from the stars he gained, despite his unbelief, something close to a religious emotion.