Charles Snow - George Passant

‘The committee may also remember,’ said George, ‘that they can terminate the connection at a month’s notice. That, however, does not affect the fact that I know Cotery well: I know him, just as I know a good many other students, better than anyone else in this institution.’

‘Why do you go to this exceptional trouble?’ asked the Canon.

‘Because I am attached to an educational institution: I conceive that it is my job to help people to think.’

‘Some of your protégés are inclined to think on unorthodox lines?’ the Principal said.

‘No doubt. I shouldn’t consider any other sort of thinking was worth the time of a serious-minded man.’

‘Even if it leads them into actions which might do harm to our reputations?’ said the Principal.

‘I prefer more precise questions. But I might take the opportunity of saying that I know what constitutes a position of trust: and I do not abuse it.’

There was a hush. Calvert’s pencil scribbled over the paper.

‘Well,’ said Beddow, ‘perhaps if—’

‘I have not quite finished,’ said George. ‘I am not prepared to let the committee think that I am simply intruding into this affair. I am completely unapologetic. I repeat, I know Cotery well: you have heard my questions: I regard my case as proved. But I don’t want to leave the committee under a misapprehension. Cotery is one out of many. You will be judged by what you make of them. They are better human material than we are. They are people who’ve missed the war. They are people who are young at the most promising time in the world’s history. If they don’t share in it, then it’s because this committee and I and all we represent are simply playing the irresponsible fool with our youngers and betters. You may take the view that it’s dangerous to make them think: that it’s wiser to leave them in the state of life into which it has pleased God to call them. I refuse to take that view: and I shall not, while I have a foot in this building.’

He stood up to go.

Beddow said: ‘If no one has anything more to ask Mr Passant…’

Until the door closed Beddow did not speak again, but his eyes moved from Calvert to the Canon.

‘Well, Principal,’ said Beddow, but his tone had lost (I was excited to notice) some of its buoyancy, ‘I take it that you have made your recommendation.’

‘I have, sir,’ said Cameron emphatically.

‘In that case, if no one has a motion, I suppose we accept the recommendation and pass on.’

Miss Geary leaned forward in her chair. ‘Certainly not,’ she said. ‘We’ve been listening to a man who believes what he says. And I want to hear some of it answered.’

There was a stir round the table. They were relieved that she had spoken out, given them someone to argue against.

‘Haven’t we been listening,’ said Canon Martineau, with his subtle smile, ‘to a man who has a somewhat exaggerated idea of the importance of his mission?’

‘No doubt,’ said Miss Geary. ‘Most people who believe in anything have a somewhat exaggerated idea of its importance. And I don’t pretend that he made the best of his case. Nevertheless—’

She was speaking from a double motive, of course; her dislike for the Principal shone out of her: so did her desire to help George.

It was still one against four, if it came to a vote; but there was a curious, hypercharged atmosphere that even the absolute recalcitrants, Calvert and the Principal, felt as they became more angry. Over Beddow and Martineau certainly, the two most receptive people there, had come a jag of apprehension. And when, after Miss Geary had competently put the position of Cotery again, and Calvert merely replied stubbornly: ‘He’s known for months that I didn’t intend to keep him here. Nothing else came into account. Nothing else—’ the Canon became restless.

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘there are times when it’s not only important that justice should be done. Sometimes it’s important that justice should appear to be done. And in this case, unless we’re careful, it does seem to me possible that our Mr Passant may make a considerable nuisance of himself.’

‘I regret the suggestion,’ said the Principal, ‘that we should consider giving way to threats.’

‘That isn’t Canon Martineau’s suggestion, if I understand it right,’ said Beddow. ‘He’s saying that we mustn’t stand on our dignity, even when we’re being taught our business by a man like Passant. Because nothing would take the wind out of his sails like giving way a bit. And, on the other hand, it might do this young fellow Cotery some good if we stretched a point.’

‘The Chairman has put my attitude,’ said Martineau, ‘much more neatly than I could myself.’

‘I’m afraid that I still consider it dangerous,’ said the Principal.

‘Well,’ said Beddow, ‘if we could meet one condition, I myself would go so far as to stretch a point. But the condition is, of course, that we must satisfy Mr Calvert. We shouldn’t think of acting against your wishes,’ said Beddow to Calvert, in his most cordial and sincere manner.

Calvert nodded his head.

‘I can’t alter my own position,’ he said. ‘There’s no future — I can’t find a place for Cotery. I decided that in the summer. I don’t bear him any ill-will—’

‘I wonder,’ Canon Martineau looked at Beddow with a sarcastic smile, ‘whether this idea would meet the case? Cotery would normally have two more years: we pay half the cost, and Mr Calvert half. Mr Calvert, for reasons we all accept, can’t go on with his share. But is there anything to prevent us keeping to our commitment, and remitting — may I suggest — not the half, but all Cotery’s fees for just one year?’

‘Except that it would be no practical use to the man himself,’ said Miss Geary.

‘No,’ said Calvert. ‘He needs the whole three years.’

‘I’m not so desperately concerned about that,’ said the Canon.

‘He’d have to get the money from some other source. If he wanted to finish,’ said Beddow briskly. ‘I agree with the Canon. I think it’s a decent compromise.’

Miss Geary saw that it was her best chance.

‘If you’ll propose it, Canon,’ she said, ‘I’m ready to second.’

‘I deeply regret this idea,’ said the Principal. ‘And I am sure that Mr Calvert does.’

Canon Martineau and Beddow had judged Calvert more shrewdly, however, and he shook his head.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I can’t support the motion. But I shan’t vote against it.’ It was carried by three votes to one, with Calvert abstaining.

I went straight from the committee to the Victoria, our public house, where George and Jack were waiting.

‘Well?’ cried George, as soon as I entered. I saw that Morcom was with them, sitting by the fire.

‘It’s neither one thing nor the other,’ I said. I told them the decision.

‘It’s a pretty remarkable result for any sane collection of men to achieve. I never believed that you’d drive them into it. But it doesn’t help Jack, of course.’

‘Nonsense,’ George shouted. ‘You’re as cheerful as Balfour giving the news of the Battle of Jutland. Your sane collection of men have been made to realise that they can’t treat Jack as though he was someone who just had to be content with their blasted charity. Good God alive, don’t you see that that’s a triumph? We’re going to drink a considerable amount of beer and we’re going to Nottingham by the next train to have a proper celebration. In the meantime, I’m going to hear every word that they found themselves obliged to say.’

Jack smiled, raised his glass towards George, and said: ‘You’re a wonderful man, George.’ Jack was shrewd enough to know already that, for himself, the practical value of the triumph was nothing: but it was his nature to rejoice with him who rejoices. (I was soon to see the same quality again in Herbert Getliffe.) He could not bear to spoil George’s pleasure.