Chapter XXVII

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Weeks had two little rooms at the back of Frau Erlin's house, and one ofthem, arranged as a parlour, was comfortable enough for him to invitepeople to sit in. After supper, urged perhaps by the impish humour whichwas the despair of his friends in Cambridge, Mass., he often asked Philipand Hayward to come in for a chat. He received them with elaboratecourtesy and insisted on their sitting in the only two comfortable chairsin the room. Though he did not drink himself, with a politeness of whichPhilip recognised the irony, he put a couple of bottles of beer atHayward's elbow, and he insisted on lighting matches whenever in the heatof argument Hayward's pipe went out. At the beginning of theiracquaintance Hayward, as a member of so celebrated a university, hadadopted a patronising attitude towards Weeks, who was a graduate ofHarvard; and when by chance the conversation turned upon the Greektragedians, a subject upon which Hayward felt he spoke with authority, hehad assumed the air that it was his part to give information rather thanto exchange ideas. Weeks had listened politely, with smiling modesty, tillHayward finished; then he asked one or two insidious questions, soinnocent in appearance that Hayward, not seeing into what a quandary theyled him, answered blandly; Weeks made a courteous objection, then acorrection of fact, after that a quotation from some little known Latincommentator, then a reference to a German authority; and the fact wasdisclosed that he was a scholar. With smiling ease, apologetically, Weekstore to pieces all that Hayward had said; with elaborate civility hedisplayed the superficiality of his attainments. He mocked him with gentleirony. Philip could not help seeing that Hayward looked a perfect fool,and Hayward had not the sense to hold his tongue; in his irritation, hisself-assurance undaunted, he attempted to argue: he made wild statementsand Weeks amicably corrected them; he reasoned falsely and Weeks provedthat he was absurd: Weeks confessed that he had taught Greek Literature atHarvard. Hayward gave a laugh of scorn."I might have known it. Of course you read Greek like a schoolmaster," hesaid. "I read it like a poet.""And do you find it more poetic when you don't quite know what it means?I thought it was only in revealed religion that a mistranslation improvedthe sense."At last, having finished the beer, Hayward left Weeks' room hot anddishevelled; with an angry gesture he said to Philip:"Of course the man's a pedant. He has no real feeling for beauty. Accuracyis the virtue of clerks. It's the spirit of the Greeks that we aim at.Weeks is like that fellow who went to hear Rubenstein and complained thathe played false notes. False notes! What did they matter when he playeddivinely?"Philip, not knowing how many incompetent people have found solace in thesefalse notes, was much impressed.Hayward could never resist the opportunity which Weeks offered him ofregaining ground lost on a previous occasion, and Weeks was able with thegreatest ease to draw him into a discussion. Though he could not helpseeing how small his attainments were beside the American's, his Britishpertinacity, his wounded vanity (perhaps they are the same thing), wouldnot allow him to give up the struggle. Hayward seemed to take a delight indisplaying his ignorance, self-satisfaction, and wrongheadedness. WheneverHayward said something which was illogical, Weeks in a few words wouldshow the falseness of his reasoning, pause for a moment to enjoy histriumph, and then hurry on to another subject as though Christian charityimpelled him to spare the vanquished foe. Philip tried sometimes to put insomething to help his friend, and Weeks gently crushed him, but so kindly,differently from the way in which he answered Hayward, that even Philip,outrageously sensitive, could not feel hurt. Now and then, losing his calmas he felt himself more and more foolish, Hayward became abusive, and onlythe American's smiling politeness prevented the argument from degeneratinginto a quarrel. On these occasions when Hayward left Weeks' room hemuttered angrily:"Damned Yankee!"That settled it. It was a perfect answer to an argument which had seemedunanswerable.Though they began by discussing all manner of subjects in Weeks' littleroom eventually the conversation always turned to religion: thetheological student took a professional interest in it, and Haywardwelcomed a subject in which hard facts need not disconcert him; whenfeeling is the gauge you can snap your angers at logic, and when yourlogic is weak that is very agreeable. Hayward found it difficult toexplain his beliefs to Philip without a great flow of words; but it wasclear (and this fell in with Philip's idea of the natural order ofthings), that he had been brought up in the church by law established.Though he had now given up all idea of becoming a Roman Catholic, he stilllooked upon that communion with sympathy. He had much to say in itspraise, and he compared favourably its gorgeous ceremonies with the simpleservices of the Church of England. He gave Philip Newman's Apologia toread, and Philip, finding it very dull, nevertheless read it to the end."Read it for its style, not for its matter," said Hayward.He talked enthusiastically of the music at the Oratory, and said charmingthings about the connection between incense and the devotional spirit.Weeks listened to him with his frigid smile."You think it proves the truth of Roman Catholicism that John Henry Newmanwrote good English and that Cardinal Manning has a picturesqueappearance?"Hayward hinted that he had gone through much trouble with his soul. For ayear he had swum in a sea of darkness. He passed his fingers through hisfair, waving hair and told them that he would not for five hundred poundsendure again those agonies of mind. Fortunately he had reached calm watersat last."But what do you believe?" asked Philip, who was never satisfied withvague statements."I believe in the Whole, the Good, and the Beautiful."Hayward with his loose large limbs and the fine carriage of his headlooked very handsome when he said this, and he said it with an air."Is that how you would describe your religion in a census paper?" askedWeeks, in mild tones."I hate the rigid definition: it's so ugly, so obvious. If you like I willsay that I believe in the church of the Duke of Wellington and Mr.Gladstone.""That's the Church of England," said Philip."Oh wise young man!" retorted Hayward, with a smile which made Philipblush, for he felt that in putting into plain words what the other hadexpressed in a paraphrase, he had been guilty of vulgarity. "I belong tothe Church of England. But I love the gold and the silk which clothe thepriest of Rome, and his celibacy, and the confessional, and purgatory: andin the darkness of an Italian cathedral, incense-laden and mysterious, Ibelieve with all my heart in the miracle of the Mass. In Venice I haveseen a fisherwoman come in, barefoot, throw down her basket of fish by herside, fall on her knees, and pray to the Madonna; and that I felt was thereal faith, and I prayed and believed with her. But I believe also inAphrodite and Apollo and the Great God Pan."He had a charming voice, and he chose his words as he spoke; he utteredthem almost rhythmically. He would have gone on, but Weeks opened a secondbottle of beer."Let me give you something to drink."Hayward turned to Philip with the slightly condescending gesture which soimpressed the youth."Now are you satisfied?" he asked.Philip, somewhat bewildered, confessed that he was."I'm disappointed that you didn't add a little Buddhism," said Weeks. "AndI confess I have a sort of sympathy for Mahomet; I regret that you shouldhave left him out in the cold."Hayward laughed, for he was in a good humour with himself that evening,and the ring of his sentences still sounded pleasant in his ears. Heemptied his glass."I didn't expect you to understand me," he answered. "With your coldAmerican intelligence you can only adopt the critical attitude. Emersonand all that sort of thing. But what is criticism? Criticism is purelydestructive; anyone can destroy, but not everyone can build up. You are apedant, my dear fellow. The important thing is to construct: I amconstructive; I am a poet."Weeks looked at him with eyes which seemed at the same time to be quitegrave and yet to be smiling brightly."I think, if you don't mind my saying so, you're a little drunk.""Nothing to speak of," answered Hayward cheerfully. "And not enough for meto be unable to overwhelm you in argument. But come, I have unbosomed mysoul; now tell us what your religion is."Weeks put his head on one side so that he looked like a sparrow on aperch."I've been trying to find that out for years. I think I'm a Unitarian.""But that's a dissenter," said Philip.He could not imagine why they both burst into laughter, Haywarduproariously, and Weeks with a funny chuckle."And in England dissenters aren't gentlemen, are they?" asked Weeks."Well, if you ask me point-blank, they're not," replied Philip rathercrossly.He hated being laughed at, and they laughed again."And will you tell me what a gentleman is?" asked Weeks."Oh, I don't know; everyone knows what it is.""Are you a gentleman?"No doubt had ever crossed Philip's mind on the subject, but he knew it wasnot a thing to state of oneself."If a man tells you he's a gentleman you can bet your boots he isn't," heretorted."Am I a gentleman?"Philip's truthfulness made it difficult for him to answer, but he wasnaturally polite."Oh, well, you're different," he said. "You're American, aren't you?""I suppose we may take it that only Englishmen are gentlemen," said Weeksgravely.Philip did not contradict him."Couldn't you give me a few more particulars?" asked Weeks.Philip reddened, but, growing angry, did not care if he made himselfridiculous."I can give you plenty" He remembered his uncle's saying that it tookthree generations to make a gentleman: it was a companion proverb to thesilk purse and the sow's ear. "First of all he's the son of a gentleman,and he's been to a public school, and to Oxford or Cambridge.""Edinburgh wouldn't do, I suppose?" asked Weeks."And he talks English like a gentleman, and he wears the right sort ofthings, and if he's a gentleman he can always tell if another chap's agentleman."It seemed rather lame to Philip as he went on, but there it was: that waswhat he meant by the word, and everyone he had ever known had meant thattoo."It is evident to me that I am not a gentleman," said Weeks. "I don't seewhy you should have been so surprised because I was a dissenter.""I don't quite know what a Unitarian is," said Philip.Weeks in his odd way again put his head on one side: you almost expectedhim to twitter."A Unitarian very earnestly disbelieves in almost everything that anybodyelse believes, and he has a very lively sustaining faith in he doesn'tquite know what.""I don't see why you should make fun of me," said Philip. "I really wantto know.""My dear friend, I'm not making fun of you. I have arrived at thatdefinition after years of great labour and the most anxious, nerve-rackingstudy."When Philip and Hayward got up to go, Weeks handed Philip a little book ina paper cover."I suppose you can read French pretty well by now. I wonder if this wouldamuse you."Philip thanked him and, taking the book, looked at the title. It wasRenan's Vie de Jesus.