Collected Letters Volume One: Family Letters 1905–1931

TO HIS FATHER (LP IV: 225-6):

[Gastons]

Monday [5?] Oct./14

My dear Papy,

Thanks very much for the photographs, which I have duly received and studied. They are artistically got up and touched in: in fact everything that could be desired–only, do I really tie my tie like that? Do I really brush my hair like that? Am I really as fat as that? Do I really look so sleepy? However, I suppose that thing in the photo is the one thing I am saddled with for ever and ever, so I had better learn to like it. Isn’t it curious that we know any one else better than we do ourselves? Possibly a merciful delusion.

You ask about our church at Bookham.

(#ulink_bc2ab587-2fe5-5944-b074-14fbf5fac1d3) I thought I had mentioned it in my first description of the village. However, at the risk of repetition, you shall be informed. It is of pre-Norman structure, and is, like all these old churches, no particular shape. There are various plates of bronze dedicated by ‘So and so, gentleman, to his beloved ladye who etc., etc.’ The organ is out of tune: the singing execrable. The Vicar is a hard working, sincere and cheerful fellow, but, as Miss Austen would say, of ‘no parts’. It is, in its own way, very, very beautiful. Yes, I go every Sunday.

I wonder did you notice the article on Nietzche in last Sunday’s Times Literary Supplement,

(#ulink_ac2a416c-7d55-5faf-9777-795507415675) which demonstrates that although we have been told to regard Nietzche as the indirect author of this war, nothing could be farther removed from the spirit and letter of his teaching? It just shows how we can be duped by an ignorant and loud mouthed cheap press. Kirk, who knows something about N., had anticipated that article with us, and is in high glee at seeing the blunder ‘proclaimed on the housetops.’

I am very glad to hear that Warnie has at last safely arrived in that state of bliss, our British Army. What happens to him now, do you know?

The weather here is perfectly ideal: sharp frosts at night, and clear, mild sunshine in the day: this is really the nicest country I have ever seen, outside–of course–Co. Down. The places about here in the woods are alive with pheasants, as the usual shots are at the front: they are so tame that you can come within a few paces of them.

On Saturday the household went over to the famous Boxhill, which however I thought not nearly so pretty as some of the places nearer Gastons.

I can still say that a larger knowledge of our new stunt gives nothing but deeper satisfaction. We have at last struck the real thing in education, in comfort, in pleasure, and in companions. I could almost believe that Malvern had never existed, or was merely a nightmare which I am glad to forget. Paper and time at an end.

yr. loving son,

Jack

TO ARTHUR GREEVES (W/LP IV: 214-7):

Gt. Bookham

[6 October 1914]

Dear Arthur,

I will begin by answering your questions & then we can get on to more interesting topics. The plot of my would-be tragedy is as follows: (The action is divided into the technical parts of a Grk. tragedy: so:)

I. Prologos.

Loki, alone before Asgard, explains the reason of his quarrel of the gods: ‘he had seen what an injustice the creation of man would be and tried to prevent it! Odin, by his magic had got the better of him, and now holds him as a slave. Odin himself now enters, with bad news. Loki (as is shewn in the dialogue) had persuaded the gods to make the following bargain with the Giant, Fasold: that if F., in one single winter, built a wall round Asgard, the goddess Freya should be given him as his concubine. The work is all but finished: the gods, repenting of the plan, are claiming Loki’s blood.

II. Parodos.

Thor, Freya & the Chorus enter. After a short ode by the latter, Thor complains that Loki, who is always the gods’ enemy has persuaded them to this plan, well knowing that it would come to no good. Loki defends his actions in a very scornful speech, and the two are only kept from blows at the request of Odin & Freya. Odin, though feeling qualms on account of their ancient friendship, agrees to Loki’s being punished if the latter cannot devise some way out of the difficulty by the next day, (when ‘the appointed Winter’ is up). The others then withdraw leaving Loki alone with the Chorus. He has been cringing to Odin up till now, but on his exit bursts out into angry curses.

III. Episode I.

The Chorus pray to the ‘spirits of invocation to help Loki to find a plan. His only desire is to be able to save his own head and plunge the gods into even deeper morasses. A long dialogue ensues between him & the Chorus, the result of which is this plan: that Loki will send a spirit of madness into Fasold’s horse which always accomplishes the greater part of the work. (Vide ‘Myths of the Norsemen). The Chorus agree & Loki sets off to Jarnvid (Ironwood) to instruct the spirit.

IV. Episode II.

It is now quite dark. The Chorus are singing a song of hope & fate, when Fasold enters with his horse, dragging the last great stone. He stops & converses with the Chorus. In the dialogue which follows, the genial, honest, blundering mind of Fasold is laid open: and his frank confession of his fears & hopes for Freya, and his labours, forms a contrast to the subtle intrigues of the gods. At last he decides to move on. He urges the horse: but at that moment the frenzy siezes it: it breaks from its traces & gallops off, kicking its master and leaving him senseless in the snow. Presently he recovers, and after a very sad & indignant accusation of the gods, goes off to mourn ‘his vanished hope’. He cannot now hope to gain the ‘dear prize’ for which ‘he laboured all those months’! The morning is all ready at hand

V. Episode III.

Loki, Thor & Freya return. All are in high spirits, and exult over the success of the plan. To them enters Odin. By the appearance of the god, we guess that something is wrong. On being questioned his explanation (greatly condensed) is this. ‘The gods’ empire rests on treaties. Therefore on honour. When that honour is broken their doom is at hand. Loki has conquered the Giant, how? By Fraud. We have broken faith and must prepare for the twilight of the gods.’ As soon as the general shock has passed off, Thor turns upon Loki and says that he is the cause of all this. Loki, seeing that he has accomplished his design, throws off the mask of humility that he has been wearing, and, confessing that it was all his plan, bursts forth into fearful [cursings?] upon Thor and Odin. Since Loki cannot be killed by any known weapon, Thor purposes to pinion him on an adjacent boulder (etc. Vide ‘Myths of the N’s’) as a punishment. Odin, though without enthusiasm consents, and he is bound. (Thor, Freya, Odin go off).

VI. Exodos.

Loki, bound to the rock, is indulging in a satyric dialogue with the Chorus, when Odin returns. As soon as Loki sees him he bursts into violent abuse. Odin has come to offer him pardon & release: ‘He (Odin,) is a lonely god: men, gods, & giants are all only his own creatures, not his equals & he has no friend–merely a crowd of slaves. Loki, who had been brought forth with & (not by) him by Fate, had supplied one. Will he be reconciled?’ Loki, however, casts his offer back in his teeth, with many taunts. Seeing that they can effect nothing Odin & Chorus withdraw & the tragedy ends.

Such then, in brief, is the skeleton of my poor effort poor indeed in its intrinsic worth, and yet not so poor if you could set it to soul-stirring music. As an opera the parts would be like this.

Of course you would readily see what musical points could be made. Nevertheless I cannot refrain from giving you a few of my ideas. To begin with, Loki’s opening speech would be sombre and eerie,–expressive of the fire-god’s intrigueing soul, and endless hatred. Then (Parados) the first song of the chorus would be bright and tuneful, as a relief to the dramatic duet that precedes it. The next great opportunity for ‘atmospheric’ music comes (Episode I) where the theme of the ‘spirit of madness’ is introduced. You can well imagine what it ought to be like. Then (Episode II) we would have a bluff, swinging ballad for the huge, hearty giant; and of course the ‘madness motive’ again, where the horse breaks lose. Then some ‘Dawn’ music as a prelude to (Episode III) and Odin’s speech about their position! What an opening for majestic & mournful themes. But the real gem would be some inexpressibly sad, yearning little theme, where (Exodos) Odin expresses his eternal loneliness. But enough!, enough! I have let my pen run away with me on so congenial a subject & must try & get back to daily life.

As for my average ‘Bookham’ day, there is not much to tell. Breakfast at 8.0, where I am glad to see good Irish soda-bread on the table begins the day. I then proceed to take the air (we are having some delightful, crisp autumn mornings) till 9.15, when I come in & have the honour of reading that glorious Iliad, which I will not insult with my poor praise. 11-11.15 is a little break, & then we go on with Latin till luncheon, at 1.0. From 1.-5.0, the time is at my own disposal, to read, write or moon about in the golden tinted woods and vallies of this county. 5-7.0, we work again. 7.30, dinner. After that I have the pleasant task of reading a course of English Literature mapped out by Himself.

(#ulink_6073c76c-c72e-5629-b44b-cdd1bc4db671) Of course, that doesn’t include novels, which I read at other times. I am at present occupied with (as Eng. Lit.) Buckle’s ‘Civilization of England’,

(#ulink_c57cf832-88fb-5c7e-a037-909c5e645635) and (of my own accord) Ibsen’s plays. Hoping to hear from you soon, with all your views & suggestions for Loki, I am.

Yrs. sincerely

C. S. Lewis

P.S. If you begin composing in earnest you’ll find the libretto in my study upstairs. J.

TO HIS FATHER (LP IV: 229-39):

[Gastons]

Postmark: 13 October 1914

My dear Papy,

I am astonished to hear that the Glenmachonians

(#ulink_ac39a31c-bd53-56e3-8003-e7d6f563b58c) are still so foolish as to stick to the Russian delusion: as Kirk has pointed out several times, this extraordinary rumour, and the credit paid to it, is a striking illustration of the way in which a mythology grew up in barbarous or semi-barbarous ages. If we, with all our modern knowledge fall into an error so ludicrous and so unfounded, it is hardly to be wondered at if primitive man believed a good deal of nonsense.

Our household has an addition this week in the person of Mrs. K’s theatrical friend Miss MacMullen, who is staying here for a week or ten days. ‘Soul! She’s a boy!’ Altho’ perfectly well she sees fit to travel down to Gastons with a bath chair, a maid, and a bull dog. However, they are the only faults, and they are amusing Kodotta.

This is the most extraordinary place I have ever seen for weather: we have had bright sunshine, frost, and not a spot of rain ever since I arrived. The touch of frost, unaccompanied by any wind to blow the leaves off their branches, has converted the country into a veritable paradise of gold and copper. I have never seen anything like it. Everyone at Bookham is engaged in a conspiracy for ‘getting up’ a cottage for Belgian refugees:

(#ulink_55903763-1b3f-58db-8ecd-43ee21163387) a noble scheme I admit: carried out however in a typical fussy ‘Parishional’ way. Some of Kirk’s comments are very funny.

Any news from the Colonel?