The Place of the Lion - Charles Williams (best motivational books to read TXT) š
- Author: Charles Williams
- Performer: -
Book online Ā«The Place of the Lion - Charles Williams (best motivational books to read TXT) šĀ». Author Charles Williams
āāand you can stop and meet it if you choose. Or you can come to London for a few daysā grace at least.ā
āIf this is a jokeāā she began.
āIf it is,ā he answered, āall your philosophers and schoolmen were mad together. And your lifeās work is no more than the comparison of different scribblings in the cells of a lunatic asylum.ā
She stood up, staring at him. āIf this is your way of getting back on meā, she said, ābecause I didnāt do what you think I ought to for your insane friendāā
āWhat I think is of no matter,ā he answered. āHave I pretended it was? Itās the thing that matters: the truth is in the thing. Heartās dearest, listenāthe things you study are true, and the philosophers you read knew it. The universals are abroad in the world, and what are you going to do about it? Besides write about them.ā
āDo you seriously mean to tell meā, she said, āthat Power is walking about on the earth? Just Power?ā
āYes,ā he answered, and though she added before she could stop herself, āDonāt you even know what a philosophic universal is?ā he said no more. For his energy sank within, carrying her, presenting, agonizing for her, holding the Divine Eagle by the wings that its perfect balance might redeem them, holding both her and Quentin and his own thought that they all might live together in the strong and lovely knowledge which was philosophy. So that he did not notice at first that she was saying coldly, āPerhaps youād better go now.ā
When this penetrated his mind, he made a last effort. āBut the things I just spoke ofāat least theyāre true,ā he said. āYour father has given up butterflies; you were startled; Quentin has been driven almost mad. What do you suppose did it? Come away for a day or two just till we can find out. Ah do! Ifāā he hesitatedāāif youāāhe compelled himself to go onāāif you owe me anything, do this to please me.ā
Damaris paused. She did not know that one of the crises of her life had arrived, nor did she recognize in its full deceptiveness the temptation that rose in her. But she paused uncertain whether to pretend that in effect she did not owe him anything, or to admit that she did. On the very point of taking hypocritical refuge she paused, and merely answered instead: āI donāt see any reason to go to London, thank you.ā She was to see that cold angry phrase as the beginning of her salvation.
He shrugged and was silent. He couldnāt go on appealing; he could not yet compel. He couldnāt think of anything more to do or say, yet he hated to leave her. He wondered what Marcellus Victorinus would have done in this quandary. Rockbotham would be expecting him soonā¦.
Well, that way was the only one that lay open; he would take that way. He couldnāt quite see what was to be gained by looking at the adept, but that possibilityāand no otherāhad been presented to him. He would go. He gave his hand to Damaris.
āGoodbye, then,ā he said. āDonāt be too angry with meānot for a week, anyhow. After thatā¦.ā
āI donāt understand you a bit,ā she said, and then made a handsome concessionāafter all, she did owe him something, and he was upset over Quentināābut I think youāre trying to be kindā¦.Iām sorry about your friendāperhaps if it hadnāt been so suddenā¦.You see, I was preoccupied with that bothering business of the Divine Perfectionā¦. Anthony, youāre hurting my hand!ā
āI understand that it can be a trouble,ā he said. āO Almighty Christ! Goodbye. We may meet at Philippi yet.ā And then he went.
The conversation between Anthony and Dr. Rockbotham in the car on the way to Berringerās house was of the politest and chattiest kind, interspersed with moments of seriousness. They began by discussing the curious meteorological conditions, agreeing that such frequent repetitions of thunder without lightning or rain were very unusual.
āSome kind of electrical nucleus, I suppose,ā the doctor said, āthough why the discharge should be audible but not visible, I donāt know.ā
āI noticed it when I was down on Thursday,ā Anthony remarked, āand again yesterday. It seems to be louder when we get out of town; inside itās much less.ā
āDeadened by the ordinary noises, I expect,ā the doctor said. āVery upsetting for some of my patientsāthe nervous ones, you know. Even quite steady people are affected in the funniest way sometimes. Now my wife, for instanceānobody less nervous than she is, youāll agreeāyet when she came in this morningāthereās an old servant of ours she generally calls on every Sunday morning when itās fine and sheās not busyāshe had an extraordinary tale of a kind of small earthquake.ā
āEarthquake!ā Anthony exclaimed.
āShe declared the ground shifted under her,ā the doctor went on. āShe was crossing the allotments just round by the railway bridge at the time, and she nearly fell on a lot of cabbages; in fact she did stumble among themārather hurt her foot, which was how it cropped up. Of course I wouldnāt say there couldnāt have been a slight shock, but I was about the town at the time, and I didnāt notice anything. You didnāt either, I suppose?ā
āNothing at all,ā Anthony said.
āNo, I thought not,ā the doctor said. āThe heat tooādo you feel it? Itās going to be a very trying summer.ā
Anthony, lying back in the car, with a grim look on his face, said, āIt is going to be a very trying summer.ā
āYou donāt like this heat?ā the doctor asked. And āI donāt like this heat,ā Anthony with perfect truth replied.
āWell, we donāt all of us. I donāt mind it myself,ā the doctor said. āItās the winter I donāt care for. A doctorās life, you know; all sorts of weather and all sorts of people. Especially the people; I sometimes say Iād as soon be doctor to a zoo.ā
āTalking of zoos, did they ever catch the lioness that got loose round here the other day?ā Anthony asked.
āNow that was a funny thing,ā the other answered. āWe heard all sorts of rumours on the Tuesday night, but thereās been no more news. They think it must have gone in the other direction and theyāve been following it that way, I believe. Of course people are a bit shy of coming out of the town by night, but thatās sheer funk. These imprisoned creatures are very timorous, you know. Supposing there ever was a lioness at all. The show itself moved on the next day, and when I saw the Chief Inspector on Friday he was inclined to laugh at the idea.ā
āWas he?ā Anthony said. āHe must be a brave man.ā
āAs I said to him,ā the doctor went on, āIād rather laugh at the idea than the thing. So would anybody, I expect.ā
He paused, but Anthony had no wish to answer. He felt a constriction at his heart as he listened; āthe ideaā meant to him a spasm of fear, and he was aware that he existed unhappily between two states of knowledge, between the world around him, the pleasant ordinary world in which one laughed at or discussed ideas, and a looming unseen world where ideasāor something, something living and terrible, passed on its own business, overthrowing minds, wrecking lives, and scattering destruction as it went. There already was the house, silent and secret, in which perhaps potentialities beyond all knowledge waited or shaped themselves. Need he get out of the carāas he was doing? open the gateāenter the garden? Couldnāt he get back now, on some excuse or none, before the door opened and they had to go in to where that old man, as he remembered him, lay in his terrible passivity? What new monstrosity, what beast of indescribable might or beauty, was even now perhaps dragging itself down the stairs? What behemoth would come lumbering through the hall?
Actually the only behemoth, and though she was fat she was hardly that, was the housekeeper. She let them in, she conversed with the doctor; she ushered them up the stair to where at the top the male nurse waited. Anthony followed, and, his heart full of Quentin and Damaris, aspired to the knowledge which should give them both security and peace. He remembered the sentences over which he had brooded half the night. āThe first circle is of the lion; the second circle is of the serpent; the third circleāā O what, what was the third? what sinister fate centuries ago had so mutilated that volume of angelical lore as to forbid his discovery now? āThe wings of an eagleā well, if that was what was needed, then, so far as he could, he would enter into that circle of the eagle which was the-what had the sentence said?āāThe knowledge of the Celestials in the place of the Celestials.ā
āAnd God help us all,ā he added to himself, as he came into the bedroom.
He stood aside while the doctor, leaning over the bed, made his examination. There had, the nurseās report told them, been no change; still silent and motionless the adept lay before them. Anthony walked over to the bed while the doctor spoke to the nurse, and looked at the body. The eyes were open but unseeing; he gazed into them, and went on gazing. Here perhaps, could he reach it, the secret lay; he leaned closer, seeking, half-unconsciously, to penetrate it. For a moment he could have fancied that they flicked into life, but not common life; that a dangerous vitality threatened him. Threaten? he leaned nearer againāāthe knowledge of the Celestials in the place of the Celestials.ā QuentināDamaris. He could not avoid the challenge that had momently gleamed from those eyes; it had vanished, but he intensely expected its return. He forgot the doctor; he forgot Berringer; he forgot everything but those open unresponsive eyes in which lurked the presage of defeat or victory. What moved, what gleam ed, what shone at him there? What was opening?
āQuite comatose, poor fellow!ā a voice close by him gibbered suddenly.
āErāyes,ā said Anthony, and pulled himself upright. He could have sworn that the slightest film passed over the eyes, and reluctantly he turned his own away. But they were dazzled with the strain; he could not see the room very clearly; there seemed to be dark openings everywhereāthe top of the jug on the wash stand, the mirror of the dressing-table, the black handle of the grey painted door, all these were holes in things, entrances and exits perhaps, like rabbit holes in a bank from which something might rapidly issue. He heard the dull voice say again: āShall we go downstairs?ā and found himself walking cautiously across the room. As he came near the door he couldnāt resist a backward glanceāand the head had turned surely, and the eyes were watching him? Noāit was still quiet on the pillow, but over beyond it the dressing-table mirror showed an oval blackness. He looked at it steadily, then he became aware that he was standing by the door right in the doctorās way; with a murmur of apology he seize d the handle and opened it.
āIt makes it so awkward,ā Dr. Rockbotham said, passing through, with a little bow of acknowledgement, āwhen there is no easy way ofāā
Anthony followed, shutting the door after him, and as he turned to step along the landing, found that he stood on a landing indeed but no more that of the simple house into which he had so recently come. It was a ledge rather than a landing, and though below him he saw the shadowy
Comments (0)