‘That’s most interesting,’ said Jago.
‘I’m afraid you’re doubtful, Dr Jago.’
‘I’m a little uncertain how much you want to alter us.’ Jago was becoming more reserved. ‘If you swamped us with scientific fellows — you see, Sir Horace, I’m at a disadvantage. I haven’t the faintest idea of the scale of benefaction you think we need.’
‘I was only thinking aloud,’ said Sir Horace. In all his negotiations, as Chrystal and Brown perfectly understood, an exact figure was the last thing to be mentioned. Sums of money were, so to speak, hidden away behind the talk: partly as though they were improper, partly as though they were magic. ‘Imagine though,’ Sir Horace went on, ‘people of my way of thinking were trying to help the college with — a fairly considerable sum. Do you see what I mean?’
‘A fellowship,’ said Chrystal briskly, ‘costs £20,000.’
‘What was that, Mr Chrystal?’
‘It needs a capital endowment of £20,000 to pay for a fellowship. If you add on all the perquisites.’
‘I fancied that must be about the figure,’ said Sir Horace vaguely. ‘Imagine that a few people could see their way to providing a few of those units—’ His voice trailed off. There was a pause.
‘If they were giving them for fellowships in general,’ said Chrystal at last, ‘it would be perfect. There are no two ways about that. If the fellowships were restricted to science—’
‘I am interested to hear what you think, Mr Chrystal.’
‘If they were, it might raise difficulties.’
‘I don’t quite see them.’
‘Put it another way,’ said Brown. ‘On the book, today, Sir Horace, we’ve got four scientific fellows out of thirteen. I wouldn’t maintain that was the right proportion, we should all agree it wasn’t enough. But if we changed it drastically at a single stroke, it would alter the place overnight. I should be surprised if you regarded that as statesmanlike.’
‘Even the possibility of a benefaction is exciting,’ said Jago. ‘But I do agree with my colleagues. If the fellowships were limited to one subject, it would change the character of our society.’
‘You will have to change the character of your society in twenty years,’ said Sir Horace, with a sudden dart of energy and fire. ‘History will make you. Life will make you. You won’t be able to stop it, Dr Jago, you know what I mean?’
He had heard from the others that Jago was likely to be the next Master, and all the evening had treated him with respect. Sir Horace was charmed, Jago had for him the fascination of the unfamiliar, he wanted to be sure of Jago’s unqualified approval. Brown and Chrystal he was more used to, he got on well with them, but they were not foreign, exciting, ‘up in the air’.
All of us were waiting for a concrete bargain. Sir Horace, however, was willing to let a talk like this fade inconclusively away. He said: ‘Well, I can’t tell you how valuable I’ve found it to have all your opinions. It’s most stimulating, I hope you agree with me? It gives us all plenty to think about.’
He relished the power of giving or withholding money. It was always a wrench for him to relinquish it. He liked men waiting on him for a decision. There was sometimes a hidden chuckle beneath the anticlimax. Like Chrystal, he loved the feel of power.
It was after two o’clock, but he returned happily to the talk on education. He had great stamina and no sense of time, and another hour passed before he thought of bed.
16: An Hour of Pride
When I went into my sitting-room next morning, half an hour before my usual time, there was Sir Horace, bright and trim and ready for his breakfast. He had had less than five hours’ sleep, but he was as conversational as ever. He referred to our common acquaintances, such as Francis Getliffe’s brother; he asked questions about the men he had met the night before. He was much taken with Jago. ‘There’s an unusual man,’ said Sir Horace. ‘Anyone could see that in five minutes. Remarkable head he’s got. Will he be your next Master?’
‘I hope so.’
‘Brown and Chrystal want him, don’t they?’
I said yes.
‘Good chaps, those.’ Sir Horace paused. ‘If they were in industry they’d drive a hard bargain.’
I put in the thin edge of a question. But, though he had begun the day so talkative and affable, Sir Horace was no more communicative than the night before. His intention became masked at once in a loquacious stream about how much his nephew owed to Brown’s tutoring. ‘I want him to get an honours degree. I don’t believe these places ought to be open to the comfortably off, unless the comfortably off can profit by them,’ said Sir Horace, surprisingly unless one knew his streak of unorganized radicalism. ‘I hope you agree with me? If this boy doesn’t get his honours degree, I shall cross off the experiment as a failure. But he’d never have touched it if it hadn’t been for Brown. I’ll tell you frankly, Mr Eliot, there have been times when I wished the boy didn’t require so much help on the examination side.’
We had not long finished breakfast when Roy Calvert came in. They had met for a moment after the feast. Sir Horace was automatically cordial. Then he went to the window, and looked out at the court, lit by the mild sunshine of a February morning.
‘How peaceful it all is,’ Sir Horace observed. ‘You don’t realize what a temptation it would be to quit the rough-and-tumble and settle down here in peace.’
He smiled with his puzzled, lost, friendly look, and Roy smiled back, his eyes glinting with fun.
‘I don’t think we do,’ said Roy. ‘I’ll change with you, Sir Horace.’
‘You wouldn’t get such peace.’
‘I don’t know. Are some of your colleagues on speaking terms? Ours just manage it. Should you call that specially peaceful?’
Sir Horace laughed uneasily; he was not used to affectionate malice from young men half his age. But he had an eye for quality. Up to that moment he had placed Roy as an ornament and a flâneur; now he captured his interest, just as Jago had done. He began asking Roy about his work. He was mystified by most of Roy’s explanation, but he felt something here that he had not met. I saw him studying Roy’s face when it was not smiling.
Soon he was asking if he could be shown Roy’s manuscripts. They went off together, and I did not see them until midday. Then Roy ran up the stairs to say that the ‘old boy’ was going; he fetched Brown and Chrystal and we all met at the side door of the college, where the car was garaged. The chauffeur had just arrived, and Sir Horace was standing by the car in a tremendous fur coat, looking like an Imperial Russian general.
‘I’m sorry I’ve not seen anything of you this morning, Mr Chrystal,’ said Sir Horace. ‘I’ve had a very interesting time looking at Mr Calvert’s wonderful things. There were several points last night I should like to explore with you again, you know what I mean? I very much hope we shall have the opportunity some time.’
The car drove off, Sir Horace waving cordially. As it turned out of sight, Roy Calvert asked: ‘Is he going to unbelt?’
‘Don’t ask me,’ said Chrystal. He added loyally: ‘Of course, men in his position have to make a hundred decisions a day. I expect he looks on this as very small beer — and just puts it off until he’s got important things finished. It’s unfortunate for us.’