Hearing Secret Harmonies Part 4

Matilda made a face.

'Oh, it wasn't. Do you truly think that, Norman? I always felt it was dreadfully grim. I don't believe that was only because the war was going to happen. Do you remember that awful man Kenneth Widmerpool coming in wearing uniform? He ought to have played the eighth Sin Humbug.'

I was a little surprised by the violence of Matilda's comment. So far as I knew Widmerpool had taken no particular part in her life, though she might have heard about him from Sir Magnus. She was, in any case, a woman who said and did unexpected things, a strangeness of character reflected by her marriages to Carolo, Moreland and Sir Magnus, even if the marriage to the violinist had been a very brief one.

'I think I rather like humbugs,' said Chandler. 'People like old Gossage, the music critic, he's always been quite a friend of mine.'

Matilda laughed.

'I mean something much above poor old Gossage's b.u.mblings. I'm speaking of making claims to a degree of virtue, purity, anything you like to call it morals, politics, the arts, any field you prefer which the person concerned neither possesses, nor is seriously attempting to attain. They just flatter themselves they are like that. How solemn I'm getting. That sounds just like the speeches I used to make in my early days from behind the footlights. Tell Norman about the Magnus Donners Memorial Prize, Nick.'

She began to put the photographs away. I described the Prize to Chandler.

'My dear, you ought to link the Prize with the photographs. Do the Seven Deadly Sins in rotation. The book wins, which best enhances the Sin-of-the-Year.'

'Oh, Norman, I wish we could.'

That emendation would have added spice to the Magnus Donners Prize, which got off to an unspirited start, with a somewhat pedestrian biography of Sir Horrocks Rusby. A contemporary of Sir Magnus, this once celebrated advocate's life-story was the only book of that year falling within the terms required. The frontispiece, a florid portrait of Rusby in wig and gown, was from the brush of Isbister, foreshadowing the painter's later resurgence. The following year there were sufficient eligible candidates to make me regret ever having let myself in for so much additional reading of an unexciting kind. It was won with a lively study of a wartime commander, written by a military historian of repute. The third year's choice, reflecting a new mood of free expression, was of greater interest than its forerunners; a politician, public personality rather than statesman, chronicled by a journalist friend, who provided, in generous profusion, details of his subject's adventures (he had been h.o.m.os.e.xual), which would have remained unrecorded only a few years before. Emily Brightman made one of her p.r.o.nouncements, when this book had been finally adopted for the Prize.

'In its vulgar way, a painstaking piece of work, although one must always remember something often forgotten today that because things are generally known, they are not necessarily the better for being written down, or publicly announced. Some are, some aren't. As in everything else, good sense, taste, art, all have their place. Saying you prefer to disregard art, taste, good sense, does not mean that those elements do not exist it merely means you lack them yourself.'

On the fourth and final year of the panel, the existing committee was confronted with much the same situation as that of the first presentation of the award, except that then there had been at least one eligible book, if no very inspiring one. This year, as I had told Salvidge, nothing at all seemed available. For one reason or another every biography to appear, or billed to appear within the publishing period required, fell outside the Magnus Donners category. When I arrived at the table for the second annual meeting, Emily Brightman and Mark Members were discussing procedure for announcing that, this year, the Prize would not be presented. A minute or two later Delavacquerie came into the restaurant. He held under his arm what looked like the proof copy of a book. When he sat down Emily Brightman tried to take it from him. Delavacquerie resisted. He would not even let her see the t.i.tle, though admitting he had found a possible entrant for the Prize.

'The publishers got in touch with me yesterday.'

'Who's it about?'

'I'd like to speak of a few things first, before we get on to the actual merits of the book. There are complications. Other copies of this proof are in the post to the private addresses of all members of the Magnus Donners committee. If you decide in favour, the publishers can get the book out within the appointed time. Let's order luncheon before we go into the various problems.'

Delavacquerie kept the proof copy hidden on his knee. He always gave the impression of knowing exactly what he wanted to say, how he was going to behave. Emily Brightman, aware that to show impatience would undermine the strength of her position, displayed self-control. Delavacquerie possessed several of her own characteristics, firmness, directness, grasp of whatever subject had to be considered- If they opposed each other, she was prepared to accept him on equal terms as an adversary, by no means true of everyone. When food and drink had been ordered, Delavacquerie began to make his statement. Even at the outset this was a sufficiently startling one.

'You remember, a long time ago, the name came up at one of these meetings of the novelist, X. Trapnel, author of Camel Ride to the Tomb, Dogs Have No Uncles Camel Ride to the Tomb, Dogs Have No Uncles, and other works? He died in the nineteen-fifties. You knew him quite well, I think, Nick?'

Members broke in.

'I knew Trapnel well too. We all knew him. Did he leave a posthumous biography of somebody, which has just been discovered?'

'I never knew Trapnel,' said Emily Brightman. 'Not personally, that is. I'm always promising myself to read his books, but this must be - '

'Please,' said Delavacquerie.

Smiling, he held Emily Brightman in check.

'I'm sorry, Gibson, but I'm sure I know more about this subject than you do.'

Delavacquerie, still smiling, shook his head. He continued. In relation to Trapnel he was determined to clarify his own position before anything else was said.

'I met Trapnel himself only once, and that not for long, more than twenty years ago, but I believe him to be a good writer. We have a life of Trapnel here. His career was not altogether uneventful. This book is by an American professor, a doctoral dissertation, none the worse for that. I have read the book. I think you will like it.'

Emily Brightman was not to be held in any longer. She raised a fork threateningly, as if about to stab Delavacquerie, tf he did not come quickly to the point. Members, too, was showing signs of wanting to ventilate his own Trapnel experiences, before things went much further. I myself felt the same impelling urge.

'Gibson, this book must be written by Russell Gwinnett.'

Delavacquerie, who, reasonably enough, had forgotten that Emily Brightman once announced herself an old friend of Gwinnett's, looked a little surprised that she should know the name of the biographer.

'Have the publishers sent your proof copy already, Emily?'

'Not yet, but I knew Russell Gwinnett was writing a life of Trapnel. So did Nicholas. We could have told you at once, Gibson, had we been allowed to speak. Russell is an old friend of mine. Nicholas, too, met him when we were in Venice. We talked of it at the first meeting of this committee. You could not have been attending, Gibson. You see you sometimes underrate our capabilities.'

Delavacquerie laughed. Before he could defend himself, Members pegged out his own claim.

'I don't know Gwinnett, but I knew Trapnel. You count as knowing a man reasonably well after he's borrowed five pounds off you. Is that incident mentioned? I hope so.'

If Delavacquerie considered Gwinnett's book good, the judgment was likely to be sound. I was less surprised to hear that Gwinnett's biography of Trapnel was well done, than that it had ever been completed at all. If the work was accomplished, Gwinnett was likely to have brought to it the powers he certainly possessed. Personally, I had doubted that the study would ever see light. Emily Brightman must have thought the same. She was greatly excited by the news. When they had both been teaching at the same women's college in America, in a sense Gwinnett had been a protege of hers. She had always supported a belief in his abilities as a writer. How much she was prepared to face another, more enigmatic, even more sinister, side of his character, was less easy to a.s.sess.

'I told you Russell was an industrious young man, Nicholas. A capable one too. I suppose he can't be spoken of as young any longer. He must be well into his forties. At last it looks as if we've found someone for the Prize. There is no writer to whom I would rather award it than Russell. It's just what he needs to give him self-a.s.surance, and what the Prize itself needs, to lift it out of the rut of the commonplace. Show me the proof at once, Gibson.'

Delavacquerie continued to withhold the proof copy.

'Not yet, Emily.'

'Gibson, you are intolerable. Don't be absurd. Hand it over immediately.'

'I'm prepared to be magnanimous about the fiver,' said Members. 'I could ill afford forfeiture of five pounds at the time, but we were all penniless writers together, and bygones shall be bygones. The point is whether the book is good.'

'The merits of Gwinnett's book are not so much the issue,' said Delavacquerie. 'The difficulty is quite another matter.'

'I know what you're going to put forward,' said Emily Brightman. 'Libel. Am I right? I can see a book of that sort might be libellous, but that is surely the publisher's affair. We shall have given the Prize before the row starts.'

'That is not exactly the problem. At least the publishers are not worried in a general way on that ground. They think the possibility of anything of the sort very remote. The libel, if any, would be in connexion with Trapnel's love affair with Pamela Widmerpool. As you know, she destroyed the ma.n.u.script of his last novel. That business was largely responsible for Trapnel's final debacle.'

'An interesting legal point,' said Members. 'Is it libellous to write that someone's deceased wife was unfaithful to him? I always understood, in days when I myself worked in a publisher's office, that you can't libel the dead. That was one of the firmest foundations of the publishing profession. On the other hand, I suppose the surviving partner might consider himself libelled, as being put on record as a trompe'd husband. At the time I was speaking of, my ancient publishing days, there also existed the element Emily brought up, rather severely, at one of our meetings good taste but fortunately we don't have to bother about that now even if it does platonically exist, as Emily a.s.sures us. Don't say it's good taste that makes you waver, Gibson. I believe you're frightened of Emily's disapproval.'

Members and Delavacquerie, outwardly well disposed towards each other, anyway conversationally, were not much in sympathy at base. Delavacquerie, formal as always, may all the same have revealed on some occasion his own sense of mutual disharmony. If so, Members was now getting his own back. Delavacquerie, recognizing that, smiled.

'You may be right, Mark. At the same time you will agree, I think, when I state the problem, that it is a rather special one. Meanwhile, let me release these proofs.'

He handed the bundle to Emily Brightman, who almost s.n.a.t.c.hed it from his hands. She turned at once to the t.i.tle page. I read the layout over her arm.

DEATH'S-HEAD SWORDSMAN The Life and Works of X. TRAPNEL by RUSSELL GWINNETT.

In due course the proofs came my way. Gwinnett's academic appointment, named at the beginning of the book, was held at an American college to be judged of fairly obscure status, though lately in the news, owing to exceptionally severe student troubles on its campus. On the page where a dedication might have stood, an epigraph was set.

My study's ornament, thou sh.e.l.l of death, Once the bright face of my betrothed lady.The Revenger's Tragedy.

For those who knew anything of Gwinnett, or of Trapnel for that matter, the quotation was, to say the least, ambiguous. The longer the lines were considered, the more profuse in private meaning they seemed to become. Moreland, too, had been keen on the plays of Cyril Tourneur. He used often to quote a favourite image from one of them: '... and how quaintly he died, like a politician, in hugger-mugger, made no man acquainted with it...'

Tourneur, as Gwinnett himself, was obsessed with Death. The skull, carried by the actor, his 'study's ornament', was no doubt, in one sense, intended to strike the opening note of Gwinnett's book, his own 'study'. The couplet drew attention also to the melodramatic t.i.tle (referring presumably to the death's-head, mentioned by Delavacquerie, on the top of Trapnel's sword-stick); but had it deeper meaning as well? If so, who was intended? The lines could be regarded as, say, dedication to the memory of Gwinnett's earlier girlfriend (at whose death he had been involved in some sort of scandal); alternatively, as allusion to Pamela Widmerpool herself. If the latter, were the words conceived as spoken by Trapnel, by Gwinnett, by both or, indeed, by all Pamela's lovers? Even if ironical, they were appropriate enough. At least they defined the tone of the book. Then another thought came. Not only was the quotation about a skull, the t.i.tle of Tourneur's play had also to be considered. It was called The Revenger's Tragedy The Revenger's Tragedy. Did revenge play some part in writing the book? If so, Gwinnett's revenge on whom? Trapnel? Pamela? Widmerpool? There were too many "questions to sort out at that moment. Delavacquerie allowed everyone to examine the proofs as long as they wished, before he brought out the information he was holding in reserve.

'With regard to libel,' said Emily Brightman. 'I see that neither Lord Widmerpool, nor his late wife, is named in what is evidently a very full index. I am, by the way, hearing all sorts of strange stories about Lord Widmerpool's behaviour as a university chancellor. He seems to have the oddest ideas how the duties of that office should be carried out.'

I, too, had noticed the omission of the names of the Widmerpools, husband and wife, from the book's index. That did not mean that their ident.i.ties were necessarily unrecognizable in the text. Members protested at all this talk about libel.

'I can't see that we need be punctilious about the susceptibilities of Lord Widmerpool, whatever Emily feels as to maintaining standards of good taste. Especially as she herself now draws attention to his much advertised broad-mindedness, in various recent statements made by him, on the subject of students at his own university.'

This gave Delavacquerie the opportunity he was waiting for to produce an effective climax to what he had been saying.

'What you put forward, Mark, is quite true. Only last week I was watching a programme of Lord Widmerpool's dealing with protest, counterculture, alternative societies, all the things that he is now interested in. That does not entirely meet our problem, which is a rather more delicate one. The fact is that Lord Widmerpool acts as one of the trustees of the fund from which the Magnus Donners Memorial Prize derives.'

This piece of information naturally made a considerable impression. None of the committee came out with an immediate response. My own first thought was how on earth Widmerpool could have come to occupy such a position in relation to this literary prize, or any other. He might be planning to write a book, but, after all, he had been talking of doing that from his earliest days. More than this was needed as explanation. Who could have been insane enough to have made him trustee of the Magnus Donners Prize? Then, when Delavacquerie continued, the reason became plain.

'Lord Widmerpool, in his early business life, was for quite a long time a.s.sociated with Donners-Brebner. He did many miscellaneous jobs for Sir Magnus himself. At one time he might almost have been called Sir Magnus's right-hand man, so I've been told, though I've never known Lord Widmerpool personally, only seen him at meetings.'

'The term jackal has been used,' said Members.

Delavacquerie ignored the comment. He was always determined that the formalities should be observed.

'Putting in work on organizing this fund for the Donners-Brebner Fellowships was one of the tasks allotted. In that capacity, as benefiting from them myself, I might even be considered in his debt. For some reason when the Prize was, so to speak, detached from the general sum, Lord Widmerpool's name remained as a trustee.'

Even Members agreed that a ticklish problem was posed. Any hypothetical question of libel sank into the background, compared with the propriety of awarding a substantial monetary prize, administered at least in theory by Widmerpool himself, to an author, who had been one of his wife's lovers, and written the biography of another man, of whom she had also been the mistress. Besides, Gwinnett had not merely been Pamela's lover, he was considered by some to be at least the indirect cause of her death; even if she herself had chosen that to be so. After quite a long pause, Emily Brightman spoke.

'I feel dreadfully sure that I am going to vote for Russell getting the Prize, but I do agree that we are faced with a very delicate situation.'

Delavacquerie, who had no doubt given a good deal of thought to the perplexity which he knew would confront the panel, appeared quite prepared for its att.i.tude to be one of irresolution.

'The first thing to do is for the committee to read the book, decide whether or not you want the Prize to be given to Professor Gwinnett. If you do, I am prepared to take the next step myself. I will approach Lord Widmerpool in person, and ask him where he stands on the matter. It will no doubt be necessary for him to read Death's-head Swordsman Death's-head Swordsman too, before he can make up his mind.' too, before he can make up his mind.'

Members showed uneasiness about that. I felt a little doubtful myself. It seemed going out of the way to meet trouble.

'But Kenneth Widmerpool may forbid publication. What shall we do then? Why should we be bullied by him? Surely it would be better to leave Widmerpool alone. What can he do?'

Delavacquerie was firm.

'The question to some extent involves the Company. The directors may not care tuppence what Widmerpool feels in the matter, but they would not wish attention to be drawn to the fact that he is still connected with the Company to that extent, and at the same time objects to publication. I should like to get Lord Widmerpool's att.i.tude clearly stated, if I have to consult them. His name could be quietly removed. All sorts of things might be done. They can be gone into, when we know his own views. To remove his name right away, for instance, might induce trouble, rather than curtail it.'

That sounded reasonable. Members withdrew his objection. What had worried him, he said, was thought that the award could turn on Widmerpool's whim. In other respects, the idea that the committee's choice might cause a stir greatly pleased Members, who always enjoyed conflict.

'This is a courageous offer, Gibson,' said Emily Brightman.

Delavacquerie laughed.

'In not knowing Lord Widmerpool personally, I have the advantage of ignorance. That is sometimes a useful weapon. I am perhaps not so foolhardy as you all seem to think. There are aspects of the Trapnel story with which, in his latest frame of mind, Lord Widmerpool might even welcome a.s.sociation. I mean Trapnel the despised and rejected insomuch as Trapnel was despised and rejected.'

I felt confidence in Delavacquerie's judgment, and could grasp some of what he meant. Nevertheless his train of thought was not wholly clear.

'But even the new Widmerpool will hardly stomach such an a.s.sociation with Gwinnett, will he?'

'We'll see. I may be wrong. It's worth a try.'

Delavacquerie was giving nothing away at this stage. During what remained of the meeting no matter of consequence was discussed. Death's-head Swordsman Death's-head Swordsman had first to be read. That was the next step. Luncheon came to an end. Emily Brightman said she was on her way to the British Museum. Members was going to his hairdresser, before attending another literary prize committee later that afternoon. After saying goodbye to the others, Delavacquerie and I set off for Fleet Street. had first to be read. That was the next step. Luncheon came to an end. Emily Brightman said she was on her way to the British Museum. Members was going to his hairdresser, before attending another literary prize committee later that afternoon. After saying goodbye to the others, Delavacquerie and I set off for Fleet Street.

'How do you propose to tackle Widmerpool?'

Delavacquerie's manner changed a little from its carefully screened air employed at the table.

'Tell me, Nicholas, did not Pamela Widmerpool take an overdose that she might be available to the necrophilic professor?'

'That was how things looked at the time. She may have decided to do herself in anyway.'

'But it might be said that Gwinnett by, perhaps only indirectly, being the cause of her end avenged Trapnel for destruction of his novel, and consequent downfall?'

'You could look at it that way.'

'In a sense Gwinnett represents Widmerpool's revenge on Pamela too?'

'That also occurred to me. The Revenger's Tragedy The Revenger's Tragedy. All the same, the point is surely not going to be easy to put, as man-to-man, when you confront Widmerpool?'

'Nevertheless, I shall bear it in mind.'

'I never thought Gwinnett would get the book finished. He gave up academic life when all the trouble happened. I last heard of him teaching water-skiing.'

'A promising profession for a man keen on Death?'

'I don't think Gwinnett does away with his girls. He is not a murderer. He just loves where Death is. The subject enraptures him. Emily Brightman says there was an earlier incident of his breaking into a mortuary, where a dead love of his lay.'

Delavacquerie thought for a moment.

'I can understand the obsession, like most others. People love where Beauty is, where Money is, where Power is why not where Death is? An American poet said Death is the Mother of Beauty. No, I was being perhaps unduly secretive at lunch. I'll tell you. I have a special line on Lord Widmerpool. My son is at the university of which he is the chancellor.'

I knew Delavacquerie's wife had died ten or fifteen years before. I had never met her. They had come across each other in England, the marriage, so far as I knew, a happy one. Delavacquerie sometimes spoke of his wife. The son he had never before mentioned.

'In the ordinary way, of course, Etienne would scarcely know who was the chancellor of the university. Lord Widmerpool, as we were saying at lunch, has for some little time been laying stress on his own closeness to the younger generation, and its upheavals. You may have seen his letters always signed nowadays "Ken Widmerpool", rather than just "Widmerpool", as a peer of the realm a matey approach habitually brought into play so far as students of the university are concerned. He has made his house a centre for what might be called the more difficult cases.'

'Was your son involved in the Quiggin twins' paint-throwing?'

Delavacquerie laughed at the suggestion.

'On the contrary, Etienne is a hard-working boy, who wants to get a good economics degree, but naturally he does the things his own contemporaries do up to a point knows all about them, I mean, even if he isn't the paint-throwing type. He has talked a lot about Lord Widmerpool. Quite a personality cult has been established there. Lord Widmerpool has made himself a powerful figure in the student world which, I need hardly remind you, is by no means entirely made up of students.'

'You think your knowledge of Widmerpool's latest stance is such as to persuade him to create no difficulties about Gwinnett's book?'

'It is my own self-esteem that prompts me to attempt this. That is what I am like. I want to come back to the Magnus Donners Prize committee, and inform them that Lord Widmerpool is perfectly agreeable to Death's-head Swordsman Death's-head Swordsman receiving the award that is, if you and the rest of the panel wish the book to be chosen.' receiving the award that is, if you and the rest of the panel wish the book to be chosen.'

This statement of his own feelings in the matter was very typical of Delavacquerie; to admit ambitions of a kind not necessarily to be expected from a poet, anyway the poet of popular imagination. By the time we had this conversation the habit had grown up of our lunching together in London at fairly regular intervals (quite apart from the Magnus Donners meetings), so that I was already familiar with a side of him that was compet.i.tive in a manner he rather liked to emphasize. Then he came out with something for which I was not at all prepared.

'Isn't a girl called Fiona Cutts some sort of a relation of yours?'

'A niece.'