Chapter 27 Chapter Twenty Seven

Vickers rented two small rooms in the back room of Mrs. Orlin's house, one of which was arranged as a reception room for receiving guests, but it was spacious enough.Vickers was mischievous by nature, and some of his friends in Cambridge, Massachusetts, couldn't help him.Now, perhaps in consequence of this temper, he often invited Philip and Hayward into his room immediately after dinner for a little chat.He received them with due courtesy, making sure they sat down in the only two comfortable chairs in the room.In the hospitable decorum in which he did not drink himself, but held the bottles of beer at Hayward's elbow, Philip could easily discern a sneer.During the heated debate between the two sides, Vickers insisted on lighting a match for Heyward whenever his pipe was extinguished.When they first met, Hayward, as a member of the most famous university in the world, put on a humble posture in front of Vickers, a Harvard graduate.During the conversation, the conversation occasionally turned to the Greek tragedians. Heyward felt that he could make an authoritative comment on this subject, so he assumed that he was the only one who gave advice, and did not allow the other party to intervene.With a smile on his face, Vickers listened attentively to the sidelines with an open mind. He didn't ask a question or two that sounded quite childish on the surface but was ambushed in secret until Hayward's high-level speech was finished. Hayward didn't know the depth and thought He answered with confidence, but of course he fell into a trap.Mr. Vickers politely dissented, then corrected a fact, then quoted a note from some unknown Lagong national commentator, and added a brilliant statement from a German authority--it was obvious: he Is a scholar proficient in classical literature.He smiled, took his time, and apologized, only to refute the whole of Hayward's arguments.He reveals the superficiality of Hayward's learning without losing any of his decorum.He made some mildly tactful sarcasm to Heyward.Philip could not help seeing the utter foolishness of Hayward; he himself was headstrong, uncertain, and still trying desperately to explain himself.He spouted out comments, and Weeks corrected them genially; when he was at a loss for words, he insisted, and Weeks proved the absurdity of his doing so.In the end, Vickers told the truth, he had taught Greek literature at Harvard.Hayward smiled contemptuously at that.

"I can see that if you don't tell me. Of course you read Greek literature like a pedant Donna," he said, "and I appreciate it like a poet." "When you don't know the original meaning of the work, do you feel that the poetic flavor of the work is stronger? Personally, I think that only in the Apocalypse religion, mistranslation can make the original meaning fuller." At last Hayward had finished his beer and left Weeks' room, hot and tousled, and with a wave of his hand indignantly said to Philip: "Needless to say, this gentleman is a nerd with no real sense of beauty. Accuracy is a clerk's virtue. Our focus is on the essence of Greek literature. Vickers is such a haunted character, go listen to Rubin Stan plays the piano and complains that he's playing a few wrong notes. A few wrong notes! What's the point of playing a few wrong notes as long as he's playing well?!"

This discussion made a deep impression on Philip, but he didn't know how many incompetent people in the world just use this kind of ignorance and nonsense to comfort themselves! Hayward was defeated repeatedly, but he would not let go of any opportunity offered by Vickers to try to regain the ground he had lost the previous time, so Vickers had no trouble pulling Hayward into the dispute.Though Hayward could not have been unaware of how ignorant he appeared to the American, with English obstinacy and bruised pride (perhaps the two were the same thing), he Unwilling to let it go.He seems to take pleasure in showing his ignorance, complacency, and outspokenness.Whenever Hayward said something illogical, Weeks pointed out the flaws in his reasoning in a few words, paused triumphantly, and then hurried to another subject, as if Christian brotherhood had prompted him to There is an adversary who has been defeated.Sometimes Philip tried to intervene to help his friend out, but he was defeated by a light blow from Weeks.Weeks, however, treated him differently from Hayward, and was so gentle that even Philip, who was extremely sensitive, did not feel his pride bruised.Feeling more and more like a fool, Hayward often broke into a fit of swearing, and it was fortunate that the American, always smiling politely, kept the argument from turning into a meaningless quarrel.Whenever Hayward left Vickers' room under such circumstances, he would mutter angrily:

"Damn Yankees!" That's all.There is no better answer than this incantation to a point that seems irrefutable. In that little room at Vickers, although they began to discuss various issues, they inevitably turned to the subject of religion in the end: theological students, out of professional preference, always kept their words in the same line. and Hayward welcomes such a subject, for there is no need to enumerate the relentless facts that overwhelm him--in this respect, since personal feeling is the measure of things, logic is all but ignored, Since logic is his weak link, wouldn't it be a good idea to get rid of it?Heyward found it difficult to explain his beliefs to Philip without a great deal of eloquence.In fact, it was quite clear (for it was quite in keeping with Philip's view of the world) that Hayward had been brought up in the state religion.Although Hayward had now dismissed the idea of ​​converting to Roman Catholicism, he still had sympathies with that sect.He had a lot to say about the virtues of Roman Catholicism.For example, he prefers the luxurious ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Church, while the ceremonies of the Anglican Church are too simple.He showed Philip Newman's Self-Defense, which Philip found dull, but read it anyway.

"You read this book for its style, not for its content," Hayward advised. Heyward talked lively of the music in the prayer-room, and made a pleasant discourse on the relation of incense to the question of sincerity.Vickers listened quietly, with that usual sneer on his face. "Do you think, Your Excellency, that this alone is enough to prove that the Archbishop of Rome embodies the truth of religion, that John Henry Newman wrote good English, and that Cardinal Manning is handsome?" Hayward hinted that his mind was troubled.He once drifted in the dark and misty sea for a year.He ran his fingers through his fair, wavy hair, and told them that he would not go through that mental torment again for five hundred pounds.Fortunately, he finally entered the calm waters safely.

"So what do you believe in?" asked Philip, who was never satisfied with vague statements. "I believe in-whole, good, and beautiful." When he said this, Gu Chang's limbs stretched happily, coupled with the elegant head posture, his appearance was very chic and handsome, and his speech was quite charming. "Is that how you filled out your religious affiliation on the census?" Vickers asked mildly. "I just hate dead definitions: so ugly, so obvious. If you're not surprised, I'll say I'm of the same religion as the Duke of Wellington and Mr. Gladstone."

"That's the Church of England," said Philip. "Oh, what a clever young man!" retorted Hayward, with a faint smile, which made Philip so ashamed that he realized at once that he had used other people's speculative words in such a flat way. It is unrefined to express it directly in the language. "I belong to the Anglican Church, but I love the gold thread lace worn by Roman priests, the celibacy they practice, the confessional in the church, and the purgatory where the sinful soul is washed. In the dark cathedral of Italy , immersed in the smoky and mysterious atmosphere, I was convinced and believed in the magic of the mass. In Venice, I saw a fisherwoman walk into the church with bare feet and put the fish basket beside her. Throw, get down on your knees, and pray to the Virgin Mary. I feel that this is the true faith, and I pray with her in the same faith. However, I also believe in Aphrodite, Apollo, and the great Pan god."

His voice is pleasant to the ear, and when he speaks, he chooses his words carefully, and his words are cadenced and sonorous.He spouted on and on, but Vickers cracked open a second bottle of beer. "Let me pour you some more." Heyward turned towards Philip with that slightly condescending attitude which had so much attracted the young man. "Are you satisfied now?" he asked. Philip, who was in a fog, expressed that he was satisfied. "I'm a little disappointed that you didn't add a little bit of Buddhist Zen to your beliefs," Vickers said. "Frankly, I... have a little sympathy for Muhammad. I'm sorry you brushed him aside."

Hayward laughed heartily.He was in a good mood that night, and those sonorous and sweet words were still ringing in his ears.He drank the beer in his glass in one gulp. "I don't expect you to understand me," he replied. "You Americans have only a cold understanding and can only be critical, like Emersons. What is criticism? Criticism is purely destructive. Anyone can destroy, but not all can build. You A nerd, my dear old man. The important question is construction: I am constructive; I am a poet." Vickers looked at Hayward, with a serious look in his eyes and a bright smile at the same time.

"I think, if you're not surprised, I'd say you're a little drunk." "Nothing," replied Hayward cheerfully. "What's the drink, I can still beat your brother in an argument. Come on, I've been frank with you. Now you have to talk about your own religion." Vickers turned his head to one side, looking like a sparrow perched on a perch. "I've been thinking about that for years. I guess I'm a Unitarian." "That's a Dissenter," said Philip. He couldn't imagine why they both burst out laughing at the same time: Hayward laughed wildly, and Vickers giggled comically.

"A Nonconformist isn't exactly a gentleman in England, is he?" Vickers asked. "Well, if you want me to be blunt, I will say yes," replied Philip rather angrily. He hated it when they laughed at him, but they laughed again. "Then please tell me, what is a gentleman?" "Well, I can't tell, it's well known anyway." "Are you a gentleman?" Philip never had the slightest doubt on this matter, but he knew that such things should not be confessed by himself. "If there is a man who claims to be a gentleman before you, you can be sure that he is not!" retorted Philip. "Then am I a gentleman?" Philip, who could not tell a lie, found it difficult to answer the question, but he was naturally polite. "Oh, you're different," he said, "you're an American." "I wonder if it's fair to say that only the English are gentlemen," Vickers said gravely. Philip made no objection. "Can you be a little more specific, please?" Vickers asked. Philip blushed, but when he got angry, he didn't care about making a fool of himself in public. "I can tell you very specifically." He remembered his uncle once said: It takes three generations of hard work to make a gentleman.As the saying goes, a pig's ear cannot be made into a silk bag, and that's what it means. "First of all, he must be the son of a gentleman, have been educated at a public school, and have gone to Oxford or Cambridge." "So Edinburgh isn't enough, then?" Vickers asked. "He speaks English like a gentleman, and he dresses impeccably. If he's a gentleman himself, he can judge whether someone else is a gentleman at any time." The more Philip went on, the more flimsy his argument seemed.But this is self-evident: the so-called "gentleman" means what he said, and all the people he knew said so. "I get it, I'm obviously not a gentleman," Vickers said. "But I don't see why you should be so surprised when I say I'm a Nonconformist." "I don't know exactly what Unitarians are," Philip said. Vickers tilted his head so strangely again that you almost thought he was going to chirp like a sparrow. "For the Unitarian, he disbelieves with the utmost sincerity almost all that the world believes, and all that he does not quite understand." "I don't see why you're making fun of me," said Philip. "I really want to know." "My dear friend, I'm not kidding you. I've come up with that definition after years of mismanagement, after years of painstaking, painstaking research." When Philip and Hayward stood up to take their leave, Vickers handed Philip a thin paperback. "I think you are all right with reading papers now. I wonder if this book will interest you." Philip thanked him, took the book, and, seeing the title, saw that it was The Life of Jesus by Renan.