Charles Snow - George Passant

And what else lies in my powers? The gift of creation, worse luck, was not bestowed on me: except, I dare sometimes think, in the chance to help my protégés, beside whom all the artistic masterpieces of the world seem like bloodless artifices of men who have never discovered what it is to live. I must concentrate on the little world: I shall not get esteem, except the esteem which I value more than any public praise; I shall get no fame, except some gratitude which will soon be forgotten; I shall get no power at all. But I shall do what with all your gifts, Morcom, you may never do: I shall enjoy every moment of every day, and I shall gain my own soul.

In the first pages he showed me, Jack played very little part; there was a word in August:

I am still enjoying the fruitful association with Jack Cotery as much as ever. I have never been so lucky in my friends as I am now.

Then the idea of helping Jack came into the forefront of the diary, and continued there for weeks. There were descriptions of days which I remembered from another side: our first telling him the news, his attack on the committee (written with curious modesty), the visit to Nottingham, his resolve to find money for Jack.

ISSUES OF JACK

Jack himself is easily disposed of. He is obviously the most gifted person I have a chance of helping. It is a risk, he may fall by the wayside, but it is less risky than with any other of the unfortunates. Morcom mustn’t think he is the only person to spot talent. We mustn’t forget that I first discovered that in spite of his humorous, lively warmth, there is a keen and accomplished edge to Jack’s mind.

Jack’s flattery, however, he mentioned, to my surprise:

We must perhaps remember that Jack is not completely impartial just now, though I should repudiate the suggestion if it were made…

And the opposition by his mother, he described a little oddly:

QUIET EVENINGS AT HOME WITH INTERMISSIONS

There had been little visible sign of misunderstanding or incompatibility, but one or two needless scenes.

But there was one thing which astonished me, more than it should have done, since, when I myself rejected George’s advice about becoming a solicitor, there must have been similar entries about me. I knew that he had been angry at Jack preferring to experiment in business instead of accepting George’s scheme of the law. Until I read George’s entries, though, I could not have realised how he felt deserted, how deeply he had taken it to heart.

COTERY REVEALS FEET OF CLAY

Cotery wantonly destroyed all my schemes for him…after destroying his feeble case for this fatuous project, I went away to consider closely the reasons for this outburst. It is fairly clear that he is not such a strong character as I tried to imagine. He may have been subject to underhand influences. I must not blind myself to that; and no doubt he is reacting to his complete acceptance of all I stand for. But, though understandable, such liability to influence and reaction are the signs of a weak character; and it is abundantly certain that I shall have to revise parts of my opinion of him. He will never seem the same again…

Then, a week later, there came the last entry he showed me that night:

I REACH EQUILIBRIUM ON THE COTERY BUSINESS

FRIDAY, SEP. 28

KERNEL OF COTERY’s BEHAVIOUR

I have settled the difficulty about Cotery at last. I do not withdraw a word of my criticism, either of the wisdom of his course or the causes behind it. In a long and, on whole, profitable conversation with Morcom, I forced him to admit that I had been unfairly treated. Morcom is, no doubt, regretful of using his influence without either thought or knowledge. Apart from that, Jack seems, in short, to be handicapping himself at the outset because of an unworthy reaction against me. But that doesn’t dispose of my share in his adventure.

PROPER ATTITUDE UNAFFECTED

I have decided that I owe it to myself to maintain my offer…he must be helped, as though he were acting more sanely…I talk about freedom, about helping people to become themselves; I must show the scoffers that I mean what I say, I must show that I want life that functions on its own and not in my hothouse. I have got to learn to help people on

their

terms. I wish I could come to it more easily.

THE PRACTICAL PROBLEM

As for the money, I shall cease worrying and hope that finance will arrange itself in the long run. I shall carry through this offer to Jack Cotery; then I shall wait and see, and, somehow, pay.

THE winter was eventful for several of us. Olive, as she had foreshadowed that Saturday night at the farm, told Morcom that she could not marry him; she began to spend most of her time at home, looking after her father. Morcom tried to hide his unhappiness; often, he was so lonely that he fetched me out of my room and we walked for hours on a winter night; but he never talked of his own state. He also tried to conceal something else which tormented him: his jealousy for Jack Cotery. It was the true jealousy of his kind of love; it was irrational, he felt degraded by it, yet it was sharp and unarguable as a disease. Walking through the streets on those bitter nights, he could not keep from fearing that Jack might that very moment be at the Calverts’ house.

Although Morcom was older than I was, too much so for us to have been intimate friends, I understood something of what he was going through, for it was beginning to happen to me. In time, I lost touch with him, and never knew what happened to him in later life. Yet, though I was closer to the others that year, he taught me more about myself.

Meanwhile, Jack himself had plunged into his business. One bright idea had come off: another, a gamble that people would soon be buying a cheap type of valve set, engrossed him all the winter and by spring still seemed to be about an even chance.

But George remained cheerful and content, in the middle of his friends’ concerns. He was sometimes harassed by Jack’s business, but no one found it easier to put such doubts aside; the group occupied him more and more; he spent extra hours, outside the School, coaching me for my first examination; he was increasingly busy at Eden & Martineau’s.

The rest of us had never envied him so much. He was sure of his roots, and wanted no others, at this time when we were all in flux. It was not until the spring that we realised he too could be threatened by a change.

On the Friday night after Easter, I was late in arriving at Martineau’s. Looking at the window as I crossed the road, I was startled by a voice from within. I went in; suddenly the voice stopped, as my feet sounded in the hall. Martineau and George were alone in the drawing-room; George, whose voice I had heard, was deeply flushed.

Martineau welcomed me, smiling.

‘I’m glad you’ve come, Lewis,’ he said, after a moment in which we exchanged a little news. George stayed silent.

‘Everyone’s deserting me,’ Martineau smiled. ‘Everyone’s giving me up.’

‘That’s not fair, Mr Martineau,’ George said, with a staccato laugh.

Martineau walked a few steps backwards and forwards behind the sofa, a curious, restless mannerism of his. ‘Oh yes, you are.’ Martineau’s face had a look at once mischievous and gentle. ‘Oh yes, you are, George. You’re all deciding I’m a useless old man with bees in his bonnet who’s only a nuisance to his friends.’

‘That simply is not true,’ George burst out.

‘Some of my friends haven’t joined us on Friday for a long time, you know.’

‘That’s nothing to do with it,’ said George. ‘I thought I’d made that clear.’