Why was he so resolved? Partly through policy and calculation, partly through active dislike of Crawford, partly through a completely uncalculating surrender to affection; and, as in all personal politics, the motives mixed with one another.
Most of all, Brown was moved by a regard for Jago, affectionate, indulgent, and admiring; and Brown’s affections were warm and strong. He was a politician by nature; since he was set on supporting Jago he could not help but do it with all the craft he knew — but there was nothing politic about his feeling for the man. Jago might indulge his emotions, act with a fervour that Brown thought excessive and in bad taste, ‘let his heart run away with his head’, show nothing like the solid rational decorum which was Brown’s face to the world. Brown’s affection did not budge. In the depth of his heart he loved Jago’s wilder outbursts, and wished that he could have gone that way himself. Had he sacrificed too much in reaching his own robust harmony? Had he become too dull a dog? For Brown’s harmony had not arrived in a minute. People saw that fat contented man, rested on his steady strength, and thought he had never known their conflicts. They were blind. He was utterly tolerant, just because he had known the frets that drove men off the rails, in particular the frets of sensual love. It was in his nature to live them down, to embed them deep, not to let them lead him away from his future as a college worthy, from his amiable wife and son. But he was too realistic, too humble, too genuine a man ever to forget them. ‘Uncle Arthur loves odd fish’, said Roy Calvert, whom he had helped through more than one folly. In middle age ‘Uncle Arthur’ was four square in himself, without a crack or flaw, rooted in his solid, warm, wise, and cautious nature. But he loved odd fish, for he knew, better than anyone, the odd desires that he had left behind.
‘We’ve got the nucleus of a nice little party,’ said Brown. ‘I think the time may almost have come to ask Jago whether he’ll give us permission to canvass his name.’
‘You don’t think that’s premature?’ said Roy, anxiously solemn.
‘He may find certain difficulties,’ said Brown, refusing to be put out of his stride. ‘He may not be able to afford it. Put it another way — he’d certainly drop a bit over the exchange. With his university lectureship and his college teaching work, as Senior Tutor, he must make all of £1,800 a year, and the house rent free. As Master he’ll have to give up most of the other things, and the stipend of the Master is only £1,500. I’ve always thought it was disgracefully low, it’s scarcely decent. Of course, he gets the Lodge free, but the upkeep will run him into a lot more than the Tutor’s house. I really don’t know how he’s going to manage it.’
I was smiling: with Roy present, I found it harder to take part in these stately minuets. ‘Somehow I think he’ll find a way,’ I said. ‘Look, Brown, you know perfectly well that he’s chafing to be asked.’
‘I think we might be able to persuade him,’ Brown said. ‘But we mustn’t be in too much of a hurry. You don’t get round difficulties by ignoring them. Still, I think we’ve got far enough to approach Jago now.’
‘The first step, of course,’ he added, ‘is to get Chrystal. He may think we’re anticipating things a bit.’
He telephoned to Chrystal, who was at home but left at once for the college. When he arrived, he was short-tempered because we had talked so much without him. He was counter-suggestible, moved to say no instead of yes, anxious to find reasons why we should not go at once to Jago. Brown used his automatic tact; and, as usual, Chrystal was forming sensible decisions underneath his short pique-ridden temper (he had the kind of pique which one calls ‘childish’ — though in fact it is shown most clearly by grave and adult men). Suddenly he said: ‘I’m in favour of seeing Jago at once.’
‘Shall I fix a time tomorrow?’ said Brown.
‘I’m against waiting. There’s bound to be talk, I want to get our feet in first. I’m in favour of going tonight.’
‘He may be busy.’
‘He won’t be too busy for what we’re coming to say,’ said Chrystal, with a tough, pleasant, ironic smile.
‘I’ll ring up and see how he’s placed,’ said Brown. ‘But we mustn’t forget Nightingale. It would be nice to take him round as well.’ He rang up at once, on the internal exchange through the porter’s lodge: there was no answer. He asked for a porter to go to Nightingale’s rooms: the report came that his rooms were shut.
‘This is awkward,’ said Brown.
‘We’ll go without him,’ said Chrystal impatiently.
‘I don’t like it much.’ Brown had a slight frown. ‘It would be nice to bring everyone in. It’s important for everyone to feel they’re in the picture. I attach some value to taking Nightingale round.’
‘I’ll explain it to Nightingale. I want to get started before the other side.’
Reluctantly, Brown rang up the Tutor’s house. He was sure it was an error of judgement not to wait for Nightingale — whom he wanted to bind to the party. On the other hand, he had had trouble bringing Chrystal ‘up to the boil’. He did not choose to risk putting him off now. He rang up, his voice orotund, confidential, cordial; from his replies, one could guess that Jago was welcoming us round without a second’s delay.
‘Yes, he’d like to see us now,’ said Brown, as he hung the receiver up.
‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ said Chrystal, rising to go out.
‘Wait just a minute,’ said Brown. ‘The least I can do is send a note to Nightingale, explaining that we tried to find him.’
He sat down to write.
‘It might help if I took the note round to Nightingale,’ said Roy Calvert. ‘I’ll drop the word that I’m going to vote for Jago, but haven’t gone round on the deputation.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ said Brown.
‘Not a bit of it,’ said Roy. ‘I very much doubt whether the next but one junior fellow ought to be included in such a deputation as this.’
Chrystal did not know whether he was being serious or not. ‘I don’t know about that, Calvert, I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘Still, we can tell Jago you’re one of us, can we?’
‘Just so,’ said Roy. ‘Just so.’
The Tutor’s house lay on the other side of the college, and Brown, Chrystal and I began walking through the courts. Chrystal made a remark about Roy Calvert: ‘Sometimes I don’t know where I am with that young man.’
‘He’ll be a very useful acquisition to our side,’ said Brown.
8: Three Kinds of Power
In Jago’s house we were shown, not into his study, but into the drawing-room. There Mrs Jago received us, with an air of grande dame borrowed from Lady Muriel.
‘Do sit down, Dean,’ she said to Chrystal. ‘Do sit down, Tutor,’ she said to Brown. ‘A parent has just chosen this time to call on my husband, which I feel is very inconsiderate.’
But Mrs Jago’s imitation of Lady Muriel was not exact. Lady Muriel, stiff as she was, would never have called men by their college titles. Lady Muriel would never have picked on the youngest there and said: ‘Mr Eliot, please help me with the sherry. You know it’s your duty, and you ought to like doing your duty.’
For Mrs Jago wanted to be a great lady, wanted also the attention of men, and was never certain of herself, for an instant. She was a big, broad-shouldered woman, running to fat, physically graceless apart from her smile. It was a smile one seldom saw, but when it came it was brilliant, open, defenceless, like an adoring girl’s. Otherwise she was plain.
That night, she could not keep up her grand manner. Suddenly she broke out: ‘I’m afraid you will all have to put up with my presence till Paul struggles free.’