‘That’s very nice for us all,’ said Arthur Brown.
‘Thank you, Tutor,’ said Mrs Jago, back for a second on her pedestal again.
She had embarrassed Jago’s friends ever since he married her. She became assertive in any conversation. She was determined not to be overlooked. She seized on insults, tracked them down, recounted them with a masochistic gusto that never flagged. She had cost her husband great suffering.
She had cost him great suffering, but not in the way one might expect. He was a man who gained much admiration from women. With his quick sympathy, his emotional power, he could have commanded all kinds of love. He liked the compliment, but he wanted none of them. He had loved his wife for twenty-five years. They had had no children. He loved her still. He could still be jealous of that woman, who, to everyone outside, seemed so grotesque. I had seen her play on that jealousy and give him pain.
But that was not his deepest suffering about her. They had married when he was a young don, and she his pupil. That relation, which can always so easily fill itself with emotion, had never died. He wanted people to recognize her quality, how gifted she was, how much held back by her crippling sensitiveness. He wanted us to see that she was gallant, and misjudged; he was burning to explain that she went through acuter pain than anyone, when the temperament she could not control drove his friends away. His love remained love, and added pity: and the sight of her in a mood which others dismissed as grotesque still had the power to take and rend his heart.
He suffered for her, and for himself. He loathed having to make apologies for his wife. He loathed all his imagination could invent of the words that were spoken behind his back — ‘poor Jago…’ But even those wounds to his pride he could have endured, if she had been happier. He would still, after twenty-five years, have humbled himself for her as for no one else — just to see her content. As he told me on the night we first knew the Master was dying, ‘one is dreadfully vulnerable through those one loves’.
When Jago came in, his first words were to his wife.
‘I’m desperately sorry I’ve been kept so long. I know you wanted to get back to your book—’
‘It doesn’t matter at all, Paul,’ she said with lofty dignity, and then cried out: ‘It only means that the Dean and the Tutor and Mr Eliot have had to make conversation to me for half an hour.’
‘If they don’t get a greater infliction than that this term,’ he said, ‘they’ll be very lucky men.’
‘It’s wretched for them that because of parents who haven’t the slightest consideration—’
Gently Jago tried to steer her off, and show her at her best. Had she talked to us about the book from which we had drawn her? Why hadn’t she mentioned what she told him at teatime?
Then Chrystal said: ‘You’ll excuse us if we take the Senior Tutor away, won’t you, Mrs Jago? We have a piece of business that can’t wait.’
‘Please do not think of considering me,’ she retorted.
This was a masculine society, and none of us would have considered discussing college business in front of our wives, not even in front of Lady Muriel herself. But, as we went out to Jago’s study, I caught sight of his wife’s face, and I knew she had embraced another insult. Jago would hear her cry ‘they took the opportunity to say I wasn’t wanted’.
Once in Jago’s study, with Jago sitting behind his big tutorial desk, crowded with letters, folders, dossiers, Reporters, copies of the Ordinances, Chrystal cleared his throat.
‘We’ve come to ask you one question, Jago,’ he said. ‘Are you prepared to be a candidate for the Mastership?’
Jago sighed.
‘The first thing I want to say,’ he replied, ‘is how grateful I am to you for coming to speak to me. It’s an honour to be thought of by such colleagues as you. I’m deeply touched.’
He smiled at us all.
‘I’m specially touched, if I may say so, to see Eliot with you. You two are old friends — we’ve grown up together. It isn’t so much a surprise to find you’re indulgent towards me. But you don’t know how flattering it is,’ he said to me, ‘to be approved of by someone who’s come here from a different life altogether. I’m so grateful, Eliot.’
He was the more pleased, I thought, because I had hesitated, because I had not been easy to convince; it is not the whole-hogging enthusiasts for one’s cause to whom one feels most gratitude.
‘We shouldn’t ask you,’ said Chrystal briskly, ‘unless we could promise you a caucus.’
‘I think it’s only fair to tell you, before you give us your answer, that we haven’t made any attempt to discover the opinion of the college,’ said Brown. ‘But I don’t think we’re going beyond our commission in speaking for one or two others besides ourselves. Calvert specially asked us to tell you that he will give you his vote, and, though I’m not entitled to bring a categorical promise from Nightingale, I regard him as having pledged his support.’
‘There’s no doubt of that,’ said Chrystal.
‘Roy Calvert, that’s nice of him!’ cried Jago. ‘But Nightingale — I’m astonished, Brown, I really am astonished.’
‘Yes, we were a bit surprised ourselves.’ Brown went on steadily: ‘There are thirteen of us, not counting the present Master. If we leave you out, and assume that another member of the society will be the other candidate, that gives eleven people with a free vote. It wants seven votes to get a clear majority of the society, and a Master can’t be elected without, of course. Personally, I should regard five as a satisfactory caucus to start with. Anyway, it’s all we’re entitled to promise tonight, and if you think it’s not enough we shall perfectly understand.’
Jago rested his elbows on the desk, and leant forward towards us.
‘I believe I’ve told each one of you separately that this possibility came to me as an utter shock. I still feel that my feet aren’t quite firm under me. But since it did seem to become a possibility I’ve thought it over until I’m tired. I had serious doubts as to whether I ought to do it, whether I wanted to do it, whether I could do it. I’ve had several sleepless nights this week, trying to answer those questions. And there’s one thing I’ve become convinced of, even in the small hours — you know, when one’s whole life seems absolutely pointless. I’m going to tell you without modesty, between friends. I believe I can do it. I believe I can do it better than anyone within reach. So, if you want me, I’ve got no choice.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, Jago,’ said Chrystal.
‘Splendid,’ said Brown.
‘As for the campaign,’ said Jago with a brilliant smile, ‘I put myself at your disposal, and no one could be in better hands.’
Chrystal took charge. ‘There’ll be opposition,’ he said.
‘You don’t think I mind that, do you?’ said Jago.
‘You don’t mind, but we do,’ said Chrystal sharply. ‘We’re bound to, as we’re taking the responsibility of running you. The opposition will be serious. It will come from an influential part of the college. They’re the people I call the obstructors.’
‘Who are they, when it comes to the point?’ said Jago, still exhilarated.
‘I haven’t started counting heads,’ said Chrystal. ‘But there’s Winslow, for certain. There’s old Despard—’
‘Crawford, if he isn’t a candidate,’ Brown put in.
‘I don’t believe he’s in a particularly good position to be impartial,’ said Jago. ‘And as for the other two, I’m not depressed by their opposition. They’re just two embittered old men.’
‘That’s as may be,’ said Chrystal. ‘But they’re also two influential old men. They get round, they won’t let you in by default. I didn’t mean to say we shan’t work it. I think we’ve got a very good chance. But I wanted to warn you, this isn’t going to be a walkover.’