Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh [37]
Often, almost daily, since I had known Sebastian, some chance word in his conversation had reminded me that he was a Catholic, but I took it as a foible, like his teddy-bear. We never discussed the matter until on the second Sunday at Brideshead, when Father Phipps had left us and we sat in the colonnade with the papers, he surprised me by saying: 'Oh dear, it's very difficult being a Catholic.'
'Does it make much difference to you?'
'Of course. All the time.'
'Well, I can't say I've noticed it. Are you struggling against temptation? You don't seem much more virtuous than me.'
'I'm very, very much wickeder,' said Sebastian indignantly.
'Well then?'
'Who was it used to pray, "O God, make me good, but not yet"?'
'I don't know. You, I should think.'
'Why, yes, I do, every day. But it isn't that.' He turned back to the pages of the News of the World and said, 'Another naughty scout-master.'
'I suppose they try and make you believe an awful lot of nonsense?'
'Is it nonsense? I wish it were. It sometimes sounds terribly sensible to me.'
'But my dear Sebastian, you can't seriously believe it all.'
'Can't I?'
'I mean about Christmas and the star and the three kings and the ox and the ass.'
'Oh yes, I believe that. It's a lovely idea.'
'But you can't believe things because they're a lovely idea.'
'But I do. That's how I believe.'
'And in prayers? Do you think you can kneel down in front of a statue and say a few words, not even out loud, just in your mind, and change the weather; or that some saints are more influential than others, and you must get hold of the right one to help you on the right problem?'
'Oh yes. Don't you remember last term when I took Aloysius and left him behind I didn't know where. I prayed like mad to St Anthony of Padua that morning, and immediately after lunch there was Mr Nichols at Canterbury Gate with Aloysius in his arms, saying I'd left him in his cab.'
'Well,' I said, 'if you can believe all that and you don't want to be good, where's the difficulty about your religion?'
'If you can't see, you can't.'
'Well, where?'
'Oh, don't be a bore, Charles. I want to read about a woman in Hull who's been using an instrument.'
'You started the subject. I was just getting interested.'
'I'll never mention it again...thirty-eight other cases were taken into consideration in sentencing her to six months—golly!' But he did mention it again, some ten days later, as we were lying on the roof of the house, sunbathing and watching through a telescope the Agricultural Show which was in progress in the park below us. It was a modest twoday show serving the neighbouring parishes, and surviving more as a fair and social gathering than as a centre of serious competition. A ring was marked out in flags, and round it had been pitched half a dozen tents of varying size; there was a judges' box and some pens for livestock; the largest marquee was for refreshments, and there the farmers congregated in numbers. Preparations had been going on for a week. 'We shall have to hide,' said Sebastian as the day approached. 'My brother will be here. He's a big part of the Agricultural Show.' So we lay on the roof under the balustrade.
Brideshead came down by train in the morning and lunched with Colonel Fender, the agent. I met him for five minutes on his arrival. Anthony Blanche's description was peculiarly apt; he had the Flyte face, carved by an Aztec. We could see him now, through the telescope, moving awkwardly among the tenants, stopping to greet the judges in their box, leaning over a pen gazing seriously at the cattle.
'Queer fellow, my brother,' said Sebastian.
'He looks normal enough.'
'Oh, but he's not. If you only knew, he's much the craziest of us, only it doesn't come out