They were both ‘sound’ conservatives in politics, and in religion conforming and unenthusiastic churchmen. But in the college they formed the active, if sometimes invisible, part of a progressive government. (College politics often cut right across national ones: thus Winslow, an upper-class radical, became in the college extremely reactionary, and Francis Getliffe and I, both men of the left, found ourselves in the college supporting the ‘government’ — the Master, Jago, Chrystal, Brown — with whom we disagreed on most things outside.) To that they devoted their attention, their will, their cunning, and their experience. They had been practising it for twenty years, and by now they knew what could be done inside the college to an inch.
I had never seen a pair of men more fitted for their chosen job. They were loyal to each other in public and in private. If they brought off a success for the college, they each had a habit of attributing it to the other. Actually most men thought that, of the two, Chrystal was the dominating spirit. He had a streak of fierceness, and the manifest virility which attracts respect — and at the same time resentment — from other men. He also possessed the knack of losing his temper at the right moment, which made him more effective in committee. He was urgent and impatient and quick to take offence. He gave an immediate impression of will, and many of the college used to say: ‘Oh, Chrystal will bring Brown along with him.’
I did not believe it. Each was shrewd, but Brown had the deeper insight. I had seen enough of both to be sure that, in doubt or trouble, it was Chrystal who relied on the stubborn fortitude of his friend.
‘How much is it likely to be?’ I asked. They glanced at each other. They thought I knew something about men, but was altogether too unceremonious in the way I talked of money.
‘Sir Horace hinted,’ said Chrystal, with a suspicion of hush in his voice, ‘at £100,000. I take it he could sign a cheque for that himself and not miss it.’
‘He must be a very hot man,’ said Brown, who was inclined to discuss wealth in terms of temperature.
‘I wonder if he is?’ I said. ‘He must be quite well off, of course. But he’s an industrial executive, you know, not a financier. Isn’t it the financiers who make the really big fortunes? People like Sir H don’t juggle with money and don’t collect so much.’
‘You put him lower than I do,’ said Chrystal, somewhat damped. ‘You’re underrating him, Eliot.’
‘I’m not letting myself expect too much,’ said Brown. ‘But if Sir Horace decided to raise £50,000 for us, I dare say he could.’
‘I dare say he could,’ I said.
They had asked me to join them that morning in order to plan the next move. They had heard nothing from Sir Horace since his visit. What could we do? Could we reach him again? Were any of my London acquaintances any use?
I thought them over, and shook my head.
‘Is it a good idea anyway to approach him from the outside?’ I asked. ‘I should have thought that it was very risky.’
‘I’ve felt that all along,’ said Brown.
‘You may be right,’ said Chrystal sharply, irritated but ready to think again. ‘What do we do? Do we just wait?’
‘We’ve got to rely on ourselves,’ said Brown.
‘What does that mean?’ said Chrystal.
‘We’ve got to get him down again,’ said Brown. ‘And let him see us as we really are. Put it another way — we must make him feel that he’s inside the picture. I don’t say we wouldn’t make things decent for the occasion. But we ought to let him realize the difficulty about Winslow. The more we take him into our confidence, within reason, the more likely he is to turn up trumps.’
I helped him persuade Chrystal. Chrystal was brusque, he liked his own ideas to prevail, he liked to have thought of a plan first; but I noticed the underlying sense which brought him round. He could have been a moody man; his temper was never equable; but he wanted results so much that he had been forced to control his moods.
They agreed to try to attract Sir Horace to the feast in February. Brown was as realistic as usual. ‘I don’t suppose for a moment that anything we can do will make a pennyworth of difference, once he’s made up his mind. But it can’t do any harm. If he’s forgetting us, it might turn out useful to remind him that we’re glad to see him here.’
He filled our glasses again. Chrystal gave a satisfied sigh. He said: ‘Well, we can’t do any more this morning. We’ve not wasted our time. I told you, Eliot, I regard this as more important than the Mastership. Masters come and Masters go, and whoever we elect, everyone will have forgotten about it in fifty years. Whereas a benefaction like this will affect the college for ever. Do you realize that the sum I’ve got in my mind is over ten per cent of our capital endowment?’
‘It would be a pity to miss it,’ said Brown.
‘I wish we hadn’t got this Mastership hanging over us,’ said Chrystal. ‘One thing is quite clear. There’s no reason to go outside. That’s just a piece of Winslow’s spite. We can find a Master inside the college easily enough. Jago would do. I was impressed with the way he spoke last night. He’s got some of the qualities I want in a Master.’
‘I agree,’ said Brown.
‘Other names will have to be considered, of course. I expect some people will want Crawford. I don’t know about him.’
‘I agree,’ said Brown. ‘I’m not keen on him. I don’t know whether Eliot is—’
‘No,’ I said.
‘He’ll certainly be run. I don’t know whether anyone will mention Winslow. You haven’t seen a Master elected, have you, Eliot? You’ll find some people are mad enough for anything. I’m depressed,’ said Chrystal, ‘at the whole prospect.’
Soon afterwards he left us. Brown gave a sympathetic smile. ‘He’s upset about poor Royce,’ he said.
‘Yes, I thought that.’
‘You’re very observant, aren’t you?’
Brown added: ‘I think Chrystal will get more interested when things are warming up a bit. I think he will.’ He smiled again. ‘You know, I don’t see how this can possibly be an easy election. Chrystal says that there may be support for Crawford, and I suppose there’s bound to be. But I should regard him as a disaster. He wouldn’t lift a finger for any of us. I don’t know what you feel, but I shall be inclined to stick in my heels about him.’
‘He wouldn’t do it well,’ I said.
‘I’m glad we’re thinking alike. I wonder whether you’ve come down definitely for anyone yet?’
His eyes were fixed on me, and I hesitated. Easily he went on: ‘I should value it if you would keep me in touch, when you do know where you’re coming down. My present feeling, for what it’s worth, is that we ought to think seriously about Jago. I know people criticize him; I’m quite prepared to admit that he’s not ideal; but my feeling is that we can’t go far wrong with him.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you agree, really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Might you consider supporting him?’
‘I’m not sure, but I think I shall.’
His glance had stayed on me. Now he looked away, and said: ‘I very much wanted to know how you would respond to his name. I’m not committed to him myself, of course. I’ve been held up a little by a personal matter which you’ll probably think a trifle far-fetched.’
‘Whatever’s that?’