The Sleep of Reason by C. P. Snow Read Free Book Online Page B

finishing his degree but had been dropped back a year – but which is sometimes dangerous and not often negligible. It did not seem negligible at the table that morning – though his logic-chopping and attempts at legalism were stirring up Arnold Shaw’s contempt, which Pateman met by a contempt, chilly and internal, of his own.
    On the surface it might have sounded like a trade union boss negotiating with an employer. On one side stood the student body, Pateman was grating away (I had anticipated this, tried to stop it, could only sit by): on the other “the authorities”. It was necessary for matters of discipline to be settled by the two sides in combination.
    “Nonsense,” said Arnold Shaw.
    Shaw’s temper was seething. The young man seemed to have no temper. He went on: “If that’s the attitude the authorities take up, then the students will have to join forces with students of other universities–”
    “Let them,” said Arnold Shaw.
    So it went on. The authorities had no right to impose their own laws unilaterally on the students, said Pateman. The students had their own rights.
    “In that sense,” said Shaw, “you have none at all.”
    Pateman said that they were free citizens. They paid their fees. They were prepared to collaborate in drafting laws for the university, and would abide by them. They accepted that the authorities had their own rights about examinations. Everything else should be settled by mutual consent. Or, alternatively, the students should simply be subject to the laws of the land. In the present case, there was no suggestion that anything had been done contrary to the laws of the land.
    “Look here,” said Denis Geary, “this isn’t very profitable.”
    “I was speaking for the students–”
    “You’d better speak for yourselves. You’ve behaved like damned fools, and messy damned fools, and you know it. You’d better give us one good reason why we should be spending our time here this morning–”
    Young Pateman gave something like a smile. He must have realised, since Geary was well-known in the town, that here was one of their best hopes: he didn’t mind, he was enough of a politician to be easy with rough words.
    “I don’t take back the students’ case,” he began, and Geary broke in: “Drop that.”
    “I should have thought the practical thing you’ve got to consider this morning,” Pateman went on, in precisely the same ungiving tone, “is whether you want to ruin us.”
    “Ruin’s a big word,” said Geary.
    “What else do you think you’re doing?”
    The Vice-Chancellor was interrupting, but Denis Geary had his own authority and went on: “I want to know one thing. How much do you feel responsible?”
    “What do you mean, responsible?”
    “If it hadn’t been for you, would this have happened?”
    “I don’t know about that.”
    “You’re the oldest of this group, aren’t you?”
    “Joyce is older than I am. So is David.”
    “Never mind about calendar age. You’re a grown man, aren’t you?”
    He was young enough to be softened, for an instant. Geary asked: “Do you think it’s a good idea to get hold of youngsters like this–”
    “It depends on the co-operation I get.”
    The answer was brash. Geary used more force: “But you ought to feel responsible, oughtn’t you?”
    “I don’t know about that.” Pateman was repeating himself.
    “You do feel responsible, though, don’t you?”
    There was a long pause. Pateman said, slowly, his voice more grating still: “I don’t want to see anyone ruined.”
    Geary glanced at me, a partner’s glance. That was the most he could extract. I touched the Vice-Chancellor’s sleeve. He didn’t want to let Pateman go, but he acquiesced.
    Coffee was brought in. It was about a quarter past eleven, and we had started at ten. Motion : that the Court confirms the decision of the Disciplinary Committee.
    In the unconfined, hygienic room the air was tight. Not, so far, with anger: remarks were