Charles Snow - George Passant

The Principal said nothing. Beddow went on: ‘But, before I do ring for him, I should like to say something that we all feel. We are all more than sorry that Mr Calvert should be put in the position of having to listen to criticism — criticism of whether he should continue to pay an employee’s fees or not. Perhaps he’ll let me assure him, as a political opponent, that he has the reputation of being one of the best employers in this city. We all know that he has originated the very scheme over which he is being forced to listen to — unfortunate criticism. Perhaps I can say that one of the compensations for educational work in the city is the privilege of meeting men like Mr Calvert — political opponents though they may be — round the same friendly table.’

The Principal produced a loud, deliberate ‘Hear, hear.’ Calvert gave a quick, embarrassed smile, and went on scribbling on the pad of foolscap in front of him.

Beddow rang the bell: George was shown in.

‘Ah, sit down there, Mr Passant. I’m sorry we’ve had to keep you so long,’ Beddow, with his brisk, friendly smile. His affability was genuine at the root, but had become practised as he found it useful. He pointed out a small cane-bottomed chair on the other side of the table. George sat down; he was isolated from the others; they all looked at him.

‘I’ll now ask the Principal,’ said Beddow, ‘to speak to this business of the bursary.’

‘This is really a very ordinary matter, Mr Chairman,’ said the Principal. ‘The Committee is aware of the conditions on which our bursaries are awarded. Owing to the inspiration of our benefactor, Mr Calvert’ — the Canon smiled across at Calvert — ‘various employers in the town have co-operated with us in paying the fees of young men of promise. No one has ever contemplated that this arrangement could not be cancelled in any particular case, if there appeared adequate reason to the employer or ourselves. There are several precedents. The present case is entirely straightforward. Cotery, the man in question, has been sent here by Mr Calvert; his course normally would extend over three years, of which he has completed one. But Mr Calvert has decided that there is no likelihood of his being able to use Cotery in a position for which this course would qualify him; and so, in the man’s own best interests, he considers that his bursary here should be discontinued. Several of these cases, as I say, have been reported to the committee in previous years. The committee has always immediately approved the employer’s recommendation.’

‘As the Principal has told us,’ Beddow said, ‘we have always taken these cases as a matter of form… But Mr Passant, I believe, is interested in this young man Cotery, and has asked permission to attend this business tonight. After the Principal’s statement, Mr Passant, is there anything that you want to say?’

‘Yes, Mr Chairman, there are some things that I want to say,’ said George. He had nowhere to rest his hands: he pulled down his waistcoat. But he was not resentful and defensive, as he had been with Eden the Friday night before. Four out of these five were against him: always ready to scent enemies, he must have known. Yet, now it had come to the moment, his voice was clear, masterful, and strong.

‘First, this committee is responsible for appointing Cotery and it is responsible now if his support is withdrawn. The only consideration which such a committee can act upon is whether a man is making good use of his opportunity. Cotery could not be making better. I sent a request to the Principal that a report from those supervising his work here should be circularised to the committee. If it has not arrived, I can say that they regard his ability as higher than anyone in their department for the last three years. You cannot ask more than that. If the committee allows itself to be coerced by an employer to get rid of such a man, it is showing itself singularly indifferent to merit. And it ought in honesty to declare that its appointments are governed, not partly but entirely, by employers’ personal vendettas.’

George’s voice rang round the room. Calvert’s sounded faint by contrast as he broke in: ‘I can’t allow — I mean, personal considerations have nothing to do with it.’

‘I should like to ask, through you, Mr Chairman,’ said George, the instant Calvert finished, ‘whether Mr Calvert maintains that personal considerations have not dictated his entire course of action?’

‘I protest,’ said the Principal.

‘It’s entirely a matter — the organisation of my firm, I mean, didn’t happen to give room for another man of Cotery’s age. I let him know — I think he realised during the summer. I certainly let him know.’

In the midst of George, Beddow and the Principal, all fluent in their different manners, Calvert was at a loss for words. His face was chubby and petulant, and quite unlike his handsome son’s. His irritation seemed naïve and bewildered; but I felt a streak of intense obstinacy in him.

‘I think,’ said George, ‘that Mr Calvert ought to be allowed to withdraw his last suggestion.’

‘I have no intention of — No,’ said Calvert.

‘Then,’ said George, ‘ who knew that you wouldn’t have room for Cotery? and so intended to cut him off here?’

‘No one, except Cotery and myself. I don’t — it’s not necessary to discuss my business with other people.’

‘That is, no one knew of your intention until you wrote to the Principal some days ago?’ said George.

‘There was no need.’

‘No one knew of your intention, in fact, until another incident had happened? Until after you told Cotery that you had forbidden your son—’

Beddow interrupted loudly: ‘I can’t allow any more, Mr Passant. I’ve got to apologise again’ — he turned to Calvert — ‘that you’ve been compelled to listen to remarks that, giving Mr Passant every shadow of a doubt, are in the worst possible taste.’

‘I entirely concur,’ said the Principal. It was clear that he and Beddow, at any rate, knew the whole sorry story. ‘And, Mr Chairman, since a delicate matter has most regrettably been touched on, I wonder if Miss Geary would not prefer to leave the room?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Miss Geary; and settled herself squatly and darkly in her chair.

‘I take it,’ said George, ‘that to punish a man without trial is in the best possible taste. And I refuse to make this incident sound ominous by brooding over it in silence. Mr Calvert either knows or ought to know that Cotery is absolutely innocent; that the whole matter has been ridiculously exaggerated; that it was nothing but a romantic gesture.’

‘I believe that,’ said Calvert. A glance of sympathy passed between them; for a second, they were made intimate by their quarrel. Then Calvert said obstinately: ‘But it has nothing to do with it.’

‘I am a little surprised,’ said Canon Martineau, ‘that Mr Passant is able to speak with such authority about this young man Cotery. I confess that his standing in the matter isn’t quite so obvious—’

‘I have the right to appear here about any student,’ said George. Their hostility was gathering round him: but he was as self-forgetful as I had ever seen him.

The Principal seized a cue, and said: ‘Mr Passant has, as it happens, a right to appear about students with whom he is not connected. In fact, Cotery never attended any of your classes, Mr Passant?’

‘He presumably wouldn’t have done so exceptionally well in printing,’ George said loudly, ‘if he had attended my classes in law.’

‘Classes in law,’ said the Principal, rising to a cautious, deliberate anger, ‘which amount to two a week, this committee may remember. Like those given by twenty other visiting helpers to our regular staff.’