The New York Stories of Elizbeth Hardwick Read Online Free PDF

terms without his belief in Christ as the ultimate reality. The students, on the other hand, were ordinary boys who would later be in the Presbyterian pulpits throughout America and they seemed as far away from the kind of violence Dr. Hoffmann had known as they were from the mysterious depths his theology sometimes reached. I thought, watching the boys, that I had never seen a healthier and more cheerful group of people. They were bursting with energy and self-confidence, a condition no doubt due to their lack of dissipation but which seemed foolhardy to me since they all accepted that, regardless of good works, each might be arbitrarily predestined for eternal damnation.
    Physically, Dr. Hoffmann looked rather different each time I glanced at him. At first I had only noticed that he appeared somewhat corpulent, the typical family man, serious, settled, and a bit colorless. Later — perhaps it was the changing expression on his face — I was struck by his youthful charm that was not, at moments, without a slight suggestion of well-mannered and patient boredom. His students flattered him openly and it was apparent he enjoyed this attention even though he may not have taken it seriously. I don’t think he looked upon himself as a man of importance; a few times, when he was relaxed and on the outside of the conversation, he betrayed a downcast aspect of his nature, as if he were preoccupied with annoying problems. The Hoffmann apartment was pleasant and unremarkable. There were so many books, newspapers, and periodicals around that the living room had a haphazard appearance which as much as anything else made one feel comfortable there. I talked to Mrs. Hoffmann and found her a cordial woman who seemed to be intelligent, if rather smugly anti-intellectual. She was in every way as affable as she was undistinguished. The only complaint against fate she thought fit to mention was a sinus infection which had made her life in New York less gratifying than it might otherwise have been. Later in the afternoon the Hoffmann’s daughter appeared. She was about fifteen years old and her parents called her Elsa though she spoke of herself as Elsie , probably because the former was too German. Before the party was over Dr. Hoffmann and his wife had learned that I was a neighbor and they both asked me to visit them whenever I felt like it. They seemed entirely sincere in their wish to see me and I felt sure we would come to know each other better.
    When I left, the young man from Kentucky told me, and with a touch of unaccountable pride, that Dr. and Mrs. Hoffmann were the most amazing couple he had ever met. His main reason for thinking this, apart from his admiration for the man, was that Mrs. Hoffmann was a resolute atheist and yet she and her husband had managed to make a happy life together. I shrugged my shoulders indifferently and my friend seemed disappointed by my weak response. Immediately I guessed that because I had broken away from the church in Kentucky he had supposed Mrs. Hoffmann’s lack of belief would impress me. For some reason I couldn’t help speaking sharply and saying, “I’m not interested in atheists. The world’s full of those. What intrigues me is whether or not Dr. Hoffmann believes in God.”
    “Do you think there’s any question of it?” he said confidently. He looked down at me as if I were stupid past all belief.
    Due to the fact that I had no respect for him I felt free to speak in the most dogmatic fashion and did so. “Well, you can’t have it both ways,” I said. “If you want to be religious nowadays you ought to give up all contact with the world because the two no longer mix. What sort of religion is it that is completely outside our daily life and the principles upon which our behavior is based?”
    My friend had assumed his most lofty manner, but it was somehow lacking in authenticity. I suppose he felt that he looked like a serene and holy man, but I was reminded of the professional