C. S. Lewis - That Hideous Strength

VIP免费

2024-12-11 0 0 404.9KB 143 页 5.9玖币

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt

THAT HIDE0US STRENGTH -

C. S. LEWIS

PAN BOOKS LTD : LONDON

PREFACE

THIS is a ' tall story ' about devilry, though it has behind it a serious ' point' which I have tried to make

in my Abolition of Man. In the story the outer rim of that devilry had to be shown touching the life of

some ordinary and respectable profession. I selected my own profession, not, of course, because I think

Fellows of Colleges more likely to be thus corrupted than anyone else, but because my own profession is

naturally that which I know best. A very small university is imagined because that has certain

conveniences for fiction. Edgestow has no resemblance, save for its smallness, to Durham-a university

with which the only connection I have ever had was entirely pleasant.

In reducing the original story to a length suitable for this edition, I believe I have altered nothing but the

tempo and the manner. I myself prefer the more leisurely pace-I would not wish even War and Peace or

The Faerie Qyeene any shorter-but some critics may well think this abridgment is also an improvement.

CHAPTER ONE

SALE OF COLLEGE PROPERTY

" MATRIMONY was ordained, thirdly," said Jane Studdock to herself, " for the mutual society, help,

and comfort that the one ought to have of the other." She had not been to church since her schooldays

until she went there six months ago to be married, and the words of the service had stuck in her mind.

Through the open door she could see the tiny kitchen of the flat and knew how tidy it was. The beds

were made and the rooms " done ". There was nothing that had to be done till six o'clock, even

supposing that Mark was really coming home for dinner. But there was a College meeting today. Almost

certainly Mark would ring up about tea-time to say that the meeting was taking longer than he had

expected and that he would have to dine in College.

" Mutual society, help, and comfort," said Jane bitterly. In reality marriage had proved to be the door out

of a world of work and comradeship and laughter and innumerable things to do, into something like

solitary confinement.

" Here I am, starting to waste another morning, mooning," said Jane to herself sharply. " I must do some

work." By work she meant her doctorate thesis on Donne. She still believed that if she got out all her

note-books and editions and really sat down to the job she could force herself back into her lost

enthusiasm for the subject. But before she did so she turned over a newspaper which was lying on the

table and glanced at a picture on the back page.

The moment she saw the picture, she remembered her dream; not only the dream but the time after she

had crept out of bed and sat waiting for the morning, afraid to put on the light for fear Mark should wake

up and fuss, yet feeling offended by the sound of his regular breathing. He was an excellent sleeper.

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswi...r/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt (1 of 143)19-2-2006 4:48:25

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt

Only one thing ever seemed able to keep him awake after he had gone to bed, and even that did not keep

him awake for long.

She had begun by dreaming simply of a face. It was a foreign-looking face, bearded and rather yellow,

with a hooked nose. It was frightened. The mouth sagged open and the eyes stared as she had seen other

men's eyes stare for a second or two when some sudden shock had occurred. But this face seemed to be

meeting a shock that lasted for hours. Then gradually she became aware of more. The face belonged to a

man who was sitting hunched up in one corner of a little square room with white-washed walls. At last

the door was opened and a rather good-looking man with a pointed grey beard came in. The prisoner

seemed to recognise him as an old acquaintance and they began to talk. In all the dreams which Jane had

hitherto dreamed, one either understood what the dream-people were saying or else one did not hear it.

But in this dream-and that helped to make its extraordinary realism-the conversation was in French, and

Jane understood bits of it, but by no means all, just as she would have done in real life. The visitor was

telling the prisoner something which he apparently intended him to regard as good news. And the

prisoner at first looked up with a gleam of hope in his eye and said " Tiens .. . ah.. . fa marche ": but then

he wavered and changed his mind. The visitor continued in a low, fluent voice to press his point. He was

a good-looking man in his rather cold way, but he wore pince-nez, and these kept on catching the light

so as to make his eyes invisible. This, combined with the almost unnatural perfection of his teeth, gave

Jane a disagreeable impression. She could not make out what it was that the visitor was proposing. At

this point the dream became nightmare. The visitor, still smiling his cold smile, seized the prisoner's

head between his hands. He gave it a sharp turn-just as Jane had last summer seen men give a sharp turn

to the helmet on a diver's head. The visitor unscrewed the prisoner's head and took it away. Then all

became confused. The head was still the centre of the dream, but it was a different head now-a head with

a reddish-white beard all covered with earth. It belonged to an old man whom some people were digging

up in a kind of churchyard-a sort of ancient British, druidical kind of man, in a long mantle. This ancient

thing was coming to life. " Look out! " she cried in her dream. " He's alive. Stop! stop! You're waking

him." But they did not stop. The old, buried man sat up

and began talking in something that sounded vaguely like Spanish. And this frightened Jane so badly

that she woke up.

But it was not the mere memory of a nightmare that made the room swim before Jane's eyes. There, on

the back page of the newspaper, was the head she had seen in the nightmare : the first head (if there had

been two of them)-the head of the prisoner. She took up the paper. EXECUTION OF ALCASAN was

the headline, and beneath it, SCIENTIST BLUEBEARD GOES TO GUILLOTINE. She remembered

having vaguely followed the case. Alcasan was a distinguished radiologist in a neighbouring country-an

Arab by descent, they said-who had cut short a brilliant career by poisoning his wife. So that was the

origin of her dream. She must have looked at this photo in the paper before going to bed. But that

couldn't be it. It was this morning's paper. But of course there must have been some earlier picture which

she had seen and forgotten-weeks ago when the trial began. And now for Donne.

" I must get back my power of concentrating," said Jane:

and then, " Was there a previous picture of Alcasan? Supposing . . ."

Five minutes later she swept all her books away, went to the mirror, put on her hat, and went out. She

was not sure where she was going. Anywhere, to be out of that flat, that whole house.

Mark, meanwhile, was walking down to Bracton College. Edgestow is the smallest of universities. Apart

from Bracton and from the new women's college beyond the railway, there are only two colleges;

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswi...r/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt (2 of 143)19-2-2006 4:48:25

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt

Northumberland, below Bracton on the River Wynd, and Duke's opposite the Abbey. Bracton takes no

undergraduates. It was founded in 1300 for the support of ten learned men whose duties were to pray for

the soul of Henry de Bracton and study the laws of England. The number of Fellows has gradually

increased to forty, of whom only six now study Law and of whom none, perhaps, prays for the soul of

Bracton. Mark Studdock was a Sociologist and had been elected five years ago. He was beginning to

find his feet. If he had felt any doubt on that point (which he did not) it would have been laid to rest

when he found himself meeting Curry just outside the post office, and seen how natural Curry found it

that they should walk to College together and discuss the agenda for the meeting. Curry was the sub-

warden of Bracton.

" Yes," said Curry. " It will take the hell of a time. Probably go on after dinner. We shall have the

obstructionists wasting time. Luckily that's the worst they can do."

You would never have guessed from the tone of Studdock's reply what intense pleasure he derived from

Curry's use of the pronoun " we ". So very recently he had been an outsider, watching the proceedings of

what he then called " Curry and his gang " with awe and with little understanding. Now he was inside,

and " the gang " was " we " or " the progressive element in College ". It had happened quite suddenly

and was still sweet in the mouth.

" You think it'll go through, then? " said Studdock. " Sure to," said Curry. " We've got the Warden, and

the Bursar, and all the chemical and biochemical people for a start. Bill the Blizzard will probably do

something pretty devastating, but he's bound to side with us if it comes to a vote. Besides: I haven't yet

told you. Dick's going to be there. He came up in time for dinner last night."

Studdock's mind darted hither and thither in search of some safe way to conceal the fact that he did not

know who Dick was. In the nick of time he remembered a very obscure colleague whose Christian name

was Richard.

"Telford?" said Studdock in a puzzled voice. He knew very well that Telford could not be the Dick that

Curry meant.

"Good Lord! Telford!" said Curry with a laugh. " No. I mean Lord Feverstone-Dick Devine as he used

to be."

" I was a little baffled by the idea of Telford," said Studdock, joining in the laugh. " I'm glad Feverstone

is coming. I've never met him you know."

" Oh, but you must," said Curry. " Look here, come and dine in my rooms to-night. I've asked him."

" I should like to very much," said Studdock quite truly. And then, after a pause, " By the way, I suppose

Feverstone's own position is quite secure? " " How do you mean? " asked Curry. " Well, there was some

talk, if you remember, as to whether someone who was away quite so much could go on holding a

Fellowship."

" Oh, you mean Glossop and all that ramp. Nothing will come of that. Didn't you think it absolute blah? "

" As between ourselves, yes. But I confess if I were put up to explain in public exactly why a man who

is nearly always in London should go on being a Fellow of Bracton, I shouldn't find it altogether easy.

The real reasons are the sort that Watson would call imponderables."

" I don't agree. Isn't it important to have influential connections with the outer world? It's not in the least

impossible that Dick will be in the next Cabinet. Even already Dick in London has been a damn sight

more use to the College than Glossop and half a dozen others of that sort have been by sitting here all

their lives."

" Yes. Of course that's the real point. It would be a little difficult to put in that form at a College

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswi...r/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt (3 of 143)19-2-2006 4:48:25

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt

meeting, though!"

" There's one thing," said Curry in a slightly less intimate tone, " that perhaps you ought to know about

Dick."

"What's that?"

" He got you your Fellowship."

Mark was silent. He did not like things which reminded him that he had once been not only outside the

progressive element but even outside the College. He did not always like Curry either. His pleasure in

being with him was not that sort of pleasure.

" Yes," said Curry. " Denniston was your chief rival. Between ourselves, a good many people liked his

papers better than yours. It was Dick who insisted all through that you were the sort of man we really

wanted. And I must say he turned out to be right."

" Very kind of you," said Studdock with a little mock bow. He was surprised at the turn the conversation

had taken. It was an old rule at Bracton that one never mentioned in the presence of a man the

circumstances of his own election, and Studdock had not realised till now that this also was one of the

traditions the Progressive Element was prepared to scrap.

" I'm glad you're going to meet Dick," said Curry. " We haven't time now, but there's one thing about

him I wanted to discuss with you."

Studdock looked enquiringly at him. "James and I and one or two others," said Curry in a somewhat

lower voice, " have been thinking he ought to be the new warden. But here we are."

"It's not yet twelve," said Studdock. "What about popping into the Bristol for a drink? "

Into the Bristol they accordingly went. It would not have been easy to preserve the atmosphere in which

the Progressive Element operated without a good many of these little courtesies. This weighed harder on

Studdock than on Curry, who was unmarried and had a sub-warden's stipend.

The only time I was a guest at Bracton I persuaded my host to let me into the Wood and leave me there

alone for an hour.

Very few people were allowed into Bragdon Wood. If you came in from the street and went through the

College to reach it, the sense of gradual penetration into a holy of holies was very strong. First you went

through the Newton quadrangle, which is dry and gravelly. Next you must enter a cool, tunnel-like

passage, nearly dark at midday unless either the door into Hall should be open on your right or the

buttery hatch on your left, giving you a glimpse of indoor daylight falling on panels and a whiff of the

smell of fresh bread. When you emerged from this tunnel you would find yourself in the cloister of the

much smaller quadrangle called Republic. Chapel is not far off: the hoarse, heavy noise of the works of

a great and old clock comes to you from somewhere overhead. You went along this cloister, past slabs

and urns and busts that commemorate dead Bractonians, and then down shallow steps into the full

daylight of the quadrangle called Lady Alice. There were no buildings straight ahead on the fourth side

of Lady Alice: only a row of elms and a wall; and here first one became aware of the sound of running

water and the cooing of wood pigeons. In the wall there was a door. It led you into a covered gallery

pierced with narrow windows on either side. Looking out through these, you discovered that you were

crossing a bridge and the dark-brown dimpled Wynd was flowing under you. Now you were very near

your goal. A wicket at the far end of the bridge brought you out on the Fellows' bowling-green, and

across that you saw the high wall of the Wood, and through the Inigo Jones gate you caught a glimpse of

sunlit green and deep shadows.

Half a mile is a short walk. Yet it seemed a long time before I came to the centre of the Wood. I knew it

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswi...r/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt (4 of 143)19-2-2006 4:48:25

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt

was the centre, for there was the thing I had chiefly come to see. It was a well: a well with steps going

down to it and the remains of an ancient pavement about it. It was very imperfect now. This was the

heart of Bracton or Bragdon Wood: out of this all the legends had come. The archaeologists were agreed

that the masonry was very late British-Roman work, done on the very eve of the Anglo-Saxon invasion.

There is good evidence that the well with the British-Roman pavement was already " Merlin's Well " in

the fourteenth century, though the name is not found till Queen Elizabeth's reign.

The most controversial business before the College meeting was the question of selling Bragdon Wood.

The purchaser was the N.I.C.E., the National Institute of Coordinated Experiments. They wanted a site

for the building which would worthily house this remarkable organisation. The N.I.C.E. was the first-

fruit of that constructive fusion between the state and the laboratory on which so many thoughtful people

base their hopes of a better world. It was to be free from almost all the tiresome restraints-" red tape "

was the word its supporters used-which have hitherto hampered research in this country. It was also

largely free from the restraints of economy. Persistent pressure and endless diplomacy on the part of the

Senate of Edgestow had lured the new Institute away from Oxford, from Cambridge, from London. It

had thought of all these in turn as possible scenes for its labours. At times the Progressive Element in

Edgestow had almost despaired. But success was now practically certain. If the N.I.C.E. could get the

necessary land, it would come to Edgestow.

Three years ago, if Mark had come to a College meeting at which such a question was to be decided, he

would have expected to hear the claims of sentiment against progress and beauty against utility openly

debated. He knew now that that was not the way things are done. The Progressive Element managed its

business really very well. Most of the Fellows did not know that there was any question of selling the

Wood. They saw, of course, from their agenda paper that Item 15 was " Sale of College Land ", but as

that appeared at every College meeting, they were not very interested. They also saw that Item 1 was "

Questions about Bragdon Wood ". These were not concerned with the proposed sale. Curry, as sub-

warden, had some letters to read. The first was from a society concerned for the preservation of ancient

monuments. I think myself that this society had been ill-advised to make two complaints. It would have

been wiser if they had confined themselves to drawing the College's attention to the disrepair of the wall

round the Wood. When they went on to urge the desirability of building some protection over the Well

itself the College began to be restive. Before Curry sat down, everyone in the room desired strongly to

make the outer world understand that Bragdon Wood was the private property of Bracton College. Then

he rose again to read another letter. This was from a society of Spiritualists who wanted leave to

investigate the " reported phenomena " in the Wood-a letter " connected," as Curry said, " with the next,

which, with the Warden's permission, ' I will now read to you." This was from a firm who had heard of

the Spiritualists' proposal and wanted permission to make a film of the Spiritualists looking for the

phenomena. Curry was directed to write short refusals to all three letters.

Then came a new voice. Lord Feverstone had risen. He agreed with the action taken about these letters

from busybodies outside. But was it not, after all, a fact that the wall of the Wood was in a very

unsatisfactory condition? At once the Bursar, James Busby, was on his feet. He welcomed Lord

Feverstone's question. He had recently taken expert advice about the wall of the Wood. " Unsatisfactory

" was too mild a word. Nothing but a complete new wall would meet the situation. With great difficulty

the probable cost of this was elicited from him: and when the College heard the figure it gasped. Lord

Feverstone enquired whether the Bursar was seriously proposing that the College should undertake such

an expense. Busby (a large ex-clergyman with a bushy black beard) replied with some temper that if he

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswi...r/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt (5 of 143)19-2-2006 4:48:25

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt

were to make a suggestion it would be that the question could not be treated in isolation from some

important financial considerations which it would become his duty to lay before them later in the day.

There was a pause at this ominous statement, until gradually, one by one, the " outsiders " and "

obstructionists ", the men not included in the Progressive Element, began coming into the debate. The

Progressive Element let them talk for nearly ten minutes. Then Lord Feverstone wanted to know

whether it was possible that the Bursar and the Preservation Committee could really find no alternative

between building a new wall and allowing Bragdon Wood to degenerate into a common. The Bursar

answered in a low voice that he had in a purely theoretical way got some facts about possible

alternatives. A barbed-wire fence-but the rest was drowned in a roar of disapproval. Finally, the matter

was postponed for consideration at the next meeting.

During this item the thoughts of more than one Fellow had turned to lunch, and attention had wandered.

But when Curry rose at five minutes to one to introduce Item 2, there was a sharp revival of interest. It

was called " Rectification of an Anomaly in the Stipends of Junior Fellows ". I would not like to say

what the junior Fellows of Bracton were getting at this time, but I believe it hardly covered the expenses

of their residence in College. Studdock, who had recently emerged from this class, understood the look

in their faces. The Bursar rose to reply to Curry's proposal. He hoped that no one would imagine he

approved the anomaly which had, in 1910, excluded the lowest class of the Fellows from the new

clauses in the eighteenth paragraph of Statute 17; but it was his duty to point out that this was the second

proposal involving heavy expenditure which had come before them that morning. It could not be

isolated from the whole problem of the financial position of the College which he hoped to lay before

them during the afternoon. A great deal more was said, but when, at quarter to two, the meeting

adjourned for lunch, every junior had it fixed in his mind that a new wall for the Wood and a rise in his

own stipend were strictly exclusive alternatives.

In this frame of mind the College returned after lunch to consider its finances. It was a sunny afternoon;

and the smooth flow of the Bursar's exposition had a sort of hypnotic power. Fellows of colleges do not

always find money matters easy to understand. They gathered that the situation was bad; very bad

indeed. It is very seldom that the affairs of a large corporation, indefinitely committed to the

advancement of learning, can be described as being, in a quite unambiguous sense, satisfactory. Some

minor retrenchments and re-investments were approved, and the College adjourned for tea in a

chastened mood. Studdock rang up Jane and told her he would not be home for dinner.

It was not till six o'clock that all the converging lines of thought and feeling aroused by the earlier

business came together upon the question of selling Bragdon Wood. It was not called the sale " of

Bragdon Wood ", but " of the area coloured pink on the plan which, with the Warden's permission, I will

now pass round the table". Curry admitted that this involved the loss of part of the Wood. In fact, the

proposed N.I.C.E. site still left to the College a strip about sixteen feet broad along the far half of the

south side. In answer to questions he admitted that unfortunately -or perhaps fortunately-the Well itself

was in the area which the N.I.C.E. wanted. The rights of the College to access would, of course, be

guaranteed: and the Well and its pavement would be preserved by the Institute. He refrained from advice

and merely mentioned the quite astonishing figure which the N.I.C.E. was offering. After that, the

meeting became lively. The advantages of the sale discovered themselves one by one like ripe fruit

dropping into the hand. It solved the problem of the wall: it solved the problem of protecting ancient

monuments: it solved the financial problem: it looked like solving the problem of the junior Fellows'

stipends.

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswi...r/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt (6 of 143)19-2-2006 4:48:25

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt

The few real " Die-hards " present, to whom Bragdon Wood was almost a basic assumption of life, could

hardly bring themselves to realise what was happening. When at last old Jewel, blind and shaky, rose to

his feet, his voice was hardly audible. At this moment Lord Feverstone folded his arms, and looking

straight at the old man said in a very loud, clear voice:

" If Canon Jewel wishes us not to hear his views, I suggest that his end could be better attained by

silence."

Jewel had been already old in the days before the first war when old men were treated with kindness,

and he had never succeeded in getting used to the modern world. He stared with puzzled eyes. The

motion was carried.

After leaving the flat that morning Jane also had gone down to Edgestow and had bought a hat, when

Mrs. Dimble met her coming out of Sparrow's and said: " Hullo, dear! Been buying a hat ? Come home

to lunch and let's see it. Cecil has the car just round the corner."

Cecil Dimble, a Fellow of Northumberland, had been Jane's tutor for her last years as a student, and Mrs.

Dimble (one tended to call her " Mother Dimble ") had been a kind of universal aunt to all the girls of

her year. A liking for the female pupils of one's husband is not, perhaps, so common as might be wished

among dons' wives: but Mrs. Dimble appeared to like all Dr. Dimble's pupils.

They drove over the bridge to the north of Bracton and then south along the bank of the Wynd to the

Dimbles' front door.

" How lovely it's looking! " said Jane as she got out of the car. The Dimbles' garden was famous.

" You'd better take a good look at it then," said Dr. Dimble.

" What do you mean? " asked Jane.

" Haven't you told her? " said Dr. Dimble to his wife.

" I haven't screwed myself up to it yet," said Mrs. Dimble. " Anyway, I expect she knows. Your own

college is being so tiresome, dear. They're turning us out. They won't renew the lease."

" Oh, Mrs. Dimble! " exclaimed Jane. " And I didn't even know this was Bracton property. Mark never

talks about College business."

" Good husbands never do," said Dr. Dimble. " At least only about the business of other people's

colleges. Is no one coming in to have lunch? "

Dimble guessed that Bracton was going to sell the Wood and everything else it owned on that side of the

river, and felt too strongly on the subject to wish to talk about it before the wife of one of the Bracton

men.

" You'll have to wait for your lunch till I've seen Jane's new hat," said Mother Dimble, and forthwith

hurried Jane upstairs. Then followed some minutes of conversation which was strictly feminine in the

old-fashioned sense. Jane, while preserving a certain sense of superiority, found it indefinably

comforting. When the hat was being put away again Mrs. Dimble suddenly said:

" There's nothing wrong, is there? " " Wrong," said Jane. " Why? What should there be? " " You're not

looking yourself."

" Oh, I'm all right," said Jane, aloud. Mentally she added: " She's dying to know whether I'm going to

have a baby. That sort of woman always is."

"Do you hate being kissed?" said Mrs. Dimble unexpectedly.

" Do I hate being kissed?" thought Jane to herself. " That indeed is the question. Hope not for mind in

women---" She had intended to reply " Of course not," but inexplicably, and to her great annoyance,

found herself crying instead. And then, for a moment, Mrs. Dimble became simply a grown-up as grown-

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswi...r/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt (7 of 143)19-2-2006 4:48:25

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt

ups had been when one was a very small child. Not to detest being petted and pawed was contrary to her

whole theory of life: yet before they went downstairs she had told Mrs. Dimble that she was not going to

have a baby but was a bit depressed from being very much alone and from a nightmare.

During lunch Dr. Dimble talked about the Arthurian legend. " It's really wonderful," he said, " how the

whole thing hangs together, even in a late version like Malory's. You've noticed how there are two sets

of characters? There's Guinevere and Lancelot and all those, all very courtly and nothing particularly

British about them. But then in the background there are all those dark people like Morgan and

Morgawse, who are very British indeed and-usually more or less hostile. Mixed up with magic. Merlin

too, of course, is British. Doesn't it look very like a picture of Britain as it must have been on the eve of

the invasion? "

" How do you mean, Dr. Dimble? " said Jane. " Well, wouldn't there have been one section of society

that was almost purely Roman ? People talking a Celticised Latin-something that would sound to us

rather like Spanish: and fully Christian. But farther up country, in the out-of-the-way places, there would

have been little courts ruled by real old British under-kings, talking something like Welsh, and practising

a certain amount of the Druidical religion."

"And which would Arthur himself have been? " said Jane.

" One can imagine a man of the old British line, but a Christian and a fully-trained general with Roman

technique, trying to pull this whole society together. There'd be jealousy from his own British family.

And always that under-tow, that tug back to Druidism."

" And where would Merlin be? "

" Yes. . . . He's the really interesting figure. Did the whole thing fail because he died so soon? Has it ever

struck you what an odd creation Merlin is ? He's not evil: yet he's a magician. He is obviously a druid:

yet he knows all about the Grail."

" It is rather puzzling. I hadn't thought of it before."

" I often wonder," said Dr. Dimble, " whether Merlin doesn't represent the last trace of something that

became impossible when the only people in touch with the supernatural were either white or black,

either priests or sorcerers."

" What a horrid idea," said Mrs. Dimble. " Anyway, Merlin happened a long time ago if he happened at

all, and he's safely dead and buried under Bragdon Wood as we all know."

" Buried but not dead, according to the story," corrected Dr. Dimble.

" Ugh! " said Jane involuntarily.

" I wonder what they will find if they start digging up that place for the foundations of their N.I.C.E.,"

said Dr. Dimble.

" First mud and then water," said Mrs. Dimble. " That's why they can't really build it there."

" So you'd think," said her husband. " And if so, why should they want to come here at all? They're not

likely to be influenced by any poetic fancy about Merlin's mantle having fallen on them! "

" Merlin's mantle indeed! " said Mrs. Dimble.

" Yes," said the Doctor. " It's a rum idea. I dare say some of his set would like to recover the mantle well

enough. I don't think they'd like it if the old man himself came back to life along with it."

" That child's going to faint," said Mrs. Dimble suddenly.

" Hullo! What's the matter ? " said Dr. Dimble, looking with amazement at Jane's face. " Is the room too

hot for you?

" Oh, it's too ridiculous," said Jane. " Let's come into the drawing-room," said Dr. Dimble. " Here, iean

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswi...r/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt (8 of 143)19-2-2006 4:48:25

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt

on my arm."

In the drawing-room Jane attempted to excuse her behaviour by telling the story of her dream. " I

suppose I've given myself away dreadfully," she said. " You can both start psycho-analysing me now."

From Dr. Dimble's face Jane might have indeed conjectured that her dream had shocked him

exceedingly. " Extraordinary thing . . ." he kept muttering. " Two heads. And one of them Alcasan's.

Now is that a false scent? "

" Don't, Cecil," said Mrs. Dimble.

" Do you think I ought to be analysed? " said Jane.

" Analysed? " said Dr. Dimble, as if he had not quite understood. " Oh, I see. You mean going to

Brizeacre or someone? "

Jane realised that her question had recalled him from some quite different train of thought. The telling of

her dream had raised some other problem, though what this was she could not even imagine.

Dr. Dimble looked out of the window. " There is my dullest pupil just ringing the bell," he said. " I must

go to the study." He stood for a moment with his hand on Jane's shoulder. " Look here," he said, " I'm

not going to give any advice. But if you do decide to go to anyone about that dream, I wish you would

first consider going to someone whose address Margery or I will give you." " You don't believe in Mr.

Brizeacre? " said Jane. " I can't explain," said Dr. Dimble. " Not now. Try not to bother about it. But if

you do, just let us know first. Good-bye."

Almost immediately after his departure some other visitors arrived, so that there was no opportunity of

further private conversation between Jane and her hostess. She left the Dimbles about half an hour later

and walked home.

CHAPTER TWO

DINNER WITH THE SUB-WARDEN

" THIS is a blow! " said Curry.

" Something from N.O.? " said Busby. He and Lord Feverstone and Mark were all drinking sherry

before dining with Curry. N.O., which stood for Non Olet, was the nickname of Charles Place, the

Warden of Bracton.

" Yes, blast him," said Curry. " Wishes to see me on a most important matter after dinner."

" That means," said the Bursar, " that Jewel and Co. have been getting at him and want to find some way

of going back on the whole business."

"Jewel! Good God!" said Busby, burying his left hand in his beard.

" I was rather sorry for old Jewel," said Mark.

" Sorry for Jewel? " said Curry, wheeling round. " You wouldn't say that if you knew what he was like

in his prime."

" I agree with you," said Feverstone to Mark, " but then I take the Clausewitz view. Total war is the most

humane in the long run. I shut him up instantaneously. He'll be enjoying himself, because I've confirmed

everything he's been saying about the younger generation for forty years. What was the alternative ? To

let him drivel on until he'd worked himself into a coughing fit or a heart attack, and give him in addition

the disappointment of finding that he was treated civilly."

" That's a point of view, certainly," said Mark.

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswi...r/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt (9 of 143)19-2-2006 4:48:25

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt

" Damn it all," continued Feverstone, " no man likes to have his stock-in-trade taken away. What would

poor Curry do if the Die-hards one day all refused to do any die-harding? "

" Dinner is served, sir," said Curry's " Shooter "-for that is what they call a college servant at Bracton.

" That's all rot, Dick," said Curry as they sat down. " There's nothing I should like better than to see the

end of all these Die-hards and be able to get on with the job. You don't suppose I like having to spend all

my time merely getting the road clear? " Mark noticed that his host was a little nettled at Lord

Feverstone's banter. The latter had an extremely virile and infectious laugh. Mark was beginning to like

him.

"The job being . . .?" said Feverstone. " Well, some of us have got work of our own to do," replied Curry.

" I never knew you were that sort of person," said Feverstone.

" That's the worst of the whole system," said Curry. " In a place like this you've either got to be content

to see everything go to pieces or else to sacrifice your own career as a scholar to all these infernal

college politics. One of these days I shall chuck that side of it and get down to my book."

" I see," said Feverstone. " In order to keep the place going as a learned society, all the best brains in it

have to give up doing anything about learning."

" Exactly! " said Curry. " That's just-- " and then stopped, uncertain whether he was being taken quite

seriously.

" All that's very well in theory," said Busby, " but I think Curry's quite right. Supposing he resigned his

office as sub-warden and retired into his cave. He might give us a thundering good book on economics--

" Economics? " said Feverstone, lifting his eyebrows. " I happen to be a military historian, James," said

Curry. He was often annoyed at the difficulty which his colleagues seemed to find in remembering what

particular branch of learning he had been elected to pursue.

" Military history, of course," said Busby. " As I say, he might give us a thundering good book on

military history. But it would be superseded in twenty years. Whereas the work he is actually doing for

the College will benefit it for centuries. This whole business, now, of bringing the N.I.C.E. to Edgestow.

Think of the new life, The stirring of dormant impulses. What would any book on economics--? "

" Military history," said Feverstone gently, but Busby did not hear.

" What would any book on economics be, compared with a thing like that? " he continued. " I look upon

it as the greatest triumph of practical idealism that this century has yet seen."

The good wine was beginning to do its good office. We have all known the kind of clergyman who tends

to forget his clerical collar after the third glass: but Busby's habit was the reverse. As wine loosened his

tongue, the parson, still latent within him after thirty years' apostasy, began to wake into a strange

galvanic life.

" I make no claim to orthodoxy," he said. " But if religion is understood in the deepest sense, I say that

Curry, by bringing the N.I.C.E. to Edgestow, has done more for it in one year than Jewel has done in his

whole life."

" Has anyone discovered," asked Feverstone,. " what, precisely, the N.I.C.E. is, or what it intends to do?

" That comes oddly from you, Dick," said Curry. " I thought you were in on it yourself."

" Isn't it a little naive," said Feverstone, " to suppose that being in on a thing involves any distinct

knowledge of its official programme? "

" Oh well, if you mean details," said Curry, and then stopped.

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruisw.../C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txt (10 of 143)19-2-2006 4:48:25

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documente\n/spaar/C.%20S.%20Lewis%20-%20That%20Hideous%20Strength.txtTHATHIDE0USSTRENGTH-C.S.LEWISPANBOOKSLTD:LONDONPREFACETHISisa'tallstory'aboutdevilry,thoughithasbehinditaseriou\s'point'whichIhavetriedtomakeinmyAbolitionofMan.Inthesto...

展开>> 收起<<

C. S. Lewis - That Hideous Strength.pdf

共143页,预览29页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

C. S. Lewis - That Hideous Strength

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: