I
have begun to read/skim The Collected Letters of C. S. Lewis, edited by
Walter Hooper (And be sure to get his edition. Other collections may short-change you.). And I am glad I have. I am still in Lewis’ teen years. But he was a pleasure to read even back
then.
I
also appreciate getting slices of life from the early 20th Century,
particularly during World War One.
Among
the passages of his youthful letters that stand out is one from a letter to his
closest friend Arthur Greeves. He steps
outside himself and observes himself remarkably well at age 15. After some negative boarding school
experiences, he is happy under the tutelage of W. T. Kirkpatrick even as The
Great War begins:
So great is the
selfishness of human nature, that I can look out from my snug nest with the
same equanimity on the horrid desolation of the war, and the well known sorrows
of my old school. I feel that this
ought not to be so: but I can no more alter my disposition that I can change
the height of my stature or the colour of my hair. It would be mere affectation to pretend that sympathy with
those whose lot is not so happy as mine, seriously disturbs the tenour of my
complacence. Whether this is
egotism of youth, some blemish in my personal character, or the common
inheritance of humanity, I do not know.
What is your opinion?
So
he asks Greeves in November 1914.
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