In the second chapter, Lester's husband, Richard, is walking through London several months after the war has ended. His wife has been dead and buried for a while now. Then suddenly he sees her.
She was [there]. It was along Holborn that he was walking, for he had half-thought of going that night to look for Simon’s hall or house or whatever it was. And there, on the very pavement [i.e., sidewalk], the other side of a crossing, she stood. He thought for the first second that there was someone with her.... They stood on either side that Holborn by-way, and gazed [across the street at each other].
I then recalled a letter from 3 April 1944 in which Tolkien recounted a visit he made to his hometown of Birmingham and his old school, King Edward's, two days earlier. Unhappy about the damage done to the city by Nazi bombs and (even worse) by the modern architecture of (too many) new buildings, he writes, "I couldn't stand much of that or the ghosts that rose from the pavements" (Letters #58 p. 101).
Now it's nothing new or surprising that someone who survived the Great War should speak of ghosts, or even write about seeing the ghosts of the dead on the streets of London, and its well-known that Tolkien lost two extremely close friends to the Somme, both of whom he knew from King Edward's School. They were not all, of course. Over 1,400 students and masters served, and over 250 died. Tolkien will have known a good many of these.
So, we have Tolkien speaking figuratively about ghosts rising from the pavement in war damaged Birmingham just under six months after Williams had read to him about a ghost appearing on the pavement of war damaged London. This could just be a coincidence, and it probably is, but it might also be a recollection, conscious or not, of some strange and striking writing by Charles Williams.
Grevel Lindop. Charles Williams: The Third Inkling. Oxford University Press 2015.
No comments:
Post a Comment