Archives For Pubs

Pubs & Pandemics

June 1, 2020 — 5 Comments

How would the Inklings have conducted their meetings during a pandemic? Would they have continued secret rendezvous at the Eagle and Child?

Of course not. They were a law-abiding group of thinkers, and would never have thought to visit a pub if the Queen or Prime Minister told them to remain at home. After all, even the University of Oxford is following government directives: “All non-essential staff members must work from home. . . . Students have been asked to leave the University unless they have a compelling reason to stay.”

My guess is that C.S. Lewis would have relished the opportunity to settle in at home to work on his correspondence and perhaps a new essay. He would, of course, still want to enjoy a good walk during the day—although Lewis would doubtless wear a mask and maintain safe distances.

Pubs are on my mind due to a recent article entitled “How the Black Death Gave Rise to British Pub Culture: For centuries-old bars, a pandemic is nothing new.”

The piece featured two ancient public houses that lay “claim to the contentious title of Britain’s oldest pub and [are] no stranger[s] to pandemics.” While we lived in the U.K., I don’t recall ever visiting Ye Olde Fighting Cocks in Saint Albans.* However, we did enjoy visiting Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem in Nottingham.

In times of tribulation, such as war, pubs provide a warm respite for many. An alcoholic can drink happily in solitude at home.⁑ But one express purpose of a pub is to foster a casual and comfortable social environment.

C.S. Lewis and his fellow Inklings enjoyed pubs in Oxford. When Lewis moved to the environs of Cambridge, he naturally sought out a similar setting in which to relax and entertain. In 1954, he wrote the following to a friend.

There are excellent pubs at Cambridge; and I speak from first-hand knowledge, having just returned from a week of spying out the land there. I’m afraid one must admit that, architecturally, Cambridge beats Oxford; there is so much more variety in Cambridge.

Here in the United States, only “essential” functions have remained accessible during the various restrictions imposed by “stay-at-home orders.” It’s sobering to ponder what our culture values most important, weigh those deemed necessary (e.g. marijuana dispensaries) against those deemed nonessential (e.g. churches).

Gradually now they intend to transition toward a restoration of some of our Constitutional rights. The New York Times is updating the state-by-state status on a regular basis.

It will be interesting to see if this progresses forward gradually, or if unanticipated events cause any locales to reverse their course.

Hopefully, life will return to “normalcy” sooner rather than later. The scars will last though, whatever happens. Lives lost. Businesses closed, with hopes shattered and dreams dispelled. In the aftermath of this global tragedy, it may well be that cordial, familiar gathering places, will once again play a role in reestablishing balance.

The previously cited article about the Black Plague says, “For Brits, a pub has always been more than just a place that sells beer . . .” That sentiment is true in many other cultures, as well. We humans are, by our very nature, social beings. Being deprived of these social settings has caused some people to experience a sort of shell shock. It may well take some time—and perhaps even a pint or two—to begin the healing.   


* Our family did visit the spectacular Roman ruins of Verulamium. One of the Romans’ largest cities, it was destroyed by Boudicca during the rebellion she led. It was later renamed in honor of Alban, one of the first British martyrs.

⁑ Some alcoholics do prefer to get plastered in bars. Examples include Ernest Hemingway and Dylan Thomas. The latter had his final drink at New York City’s White Horse Tavern. “After downing 18 shots, Thomas collapsed outside the tavern and later died at St. Vincent’s Hospital.”

african-steerWho was the mysterious poet whose quiet, brim-shrouded attentiveness to C.S. Lewis in a pub inspired J.R.R. Tolkien to describe the hero Aragon in a similar pose?

Being neither a poet nor a literature major, I’m not ashamed to admit I have been unfamiliar with the interesting story of Roy Campbell. While his friendship with the Inklings of Oxford most intrigues me, his life itself is a fascinating story.

A South African who offered his deepest emotional devotion to Spain, his early years were influenced by the license of London’s bohemian underworld. He did, however, end up criticizing the excesses of the Bloomsbury Group.

Later, he and his wife would convert to Roman Catholicism, and even risk their lives to protect the letters of Saint John of the Cross from murderous Spanish revolutionaries who sought to burn them. They accepted responsibility for the documents shortly before the seventeen monks at the monastery were rounded up and shot in the street while their library burned.

Several days later the Campbells were visited by a search party of militiamen. Expecting such an intrusion, Roy and Mary had already taken the precaution of removing all crucifixes and religious pictures from the walls. Their main fear was that the trunk containing the Carmelite archives, including the personal letters of St John of the Cross, would be discovered.

The search, however, was not particularly thorough. At one stage some of the militiamen even leaned their rifles on the trunk without thinking of opening it. (Joseph Pearce, “The poet who saved a saint’s priceless letters”)

C.S. Lewis & Roy Campbell

C.S. Lewis considered Campbell’s championing of the Spanish fascists (who protected the Roman Catholic Church from the Leftist rebels) to be naïve. He even wrote a poem in direct response to Campbell’s lengthy “Flowering Rifle,” which is included in issue 4.2 of Curtana: Sword of Mercy.

I happen to edit the military chaplaincy journal Curtana, which is currently on hiatus. In the same issue I included another Campbell poem, “Christ in Uniform” (see pages 78-79).

In a second article, Joseph Pearce who was quoted above provides a lengthy exploration of the relationship between the two men. Its subtitle, “The Best of Friends and Enemies” reveals its theme. While Lewis remained critical of his acceptance of fascists, the two eventually became friends.

In spite of such an unpromising encounter, Lewis warmed to Campbell and invited him to meetings of the Inklings. He even offered to put Campbell up when he was in Oxford, offering him “dinner, bed and breakfast” at his home. They would exchange correspondence about the poetry of Milton, which both men admired, and settled into an altogether affable relationship.

Another peculiar thing about their friendship is how Lewis based a satirical character on Campbell in The Pilgrim’s Regress. When a song is requested, it is a one of the most savage of the men who first takes the stage.

“I will,” cried thirty voices all together: but one cried much louder than the others and its owner had stepped into the middle of the room before anyone could do anything about it.

He was one of the bearded men and wore nothing but a red shirt and a cod-piece made of the skins of crocodiles: and suddenly he began to beat on an African tom-tom and to croon with his voice, swaying his lean, half-clad body to and fro and staring at them all, out of eyes which were like burning coals.

This time John saw no picture of an Island at all. He seemed to be in a dark green place full of tangled roots and hairy vegetable tubes: and all at once he saw in it shapes moving and writhing that were not vegetable but human.

The passage continues, but it’s best read in context. Especially since it precedes an accusation that John, the pilgrim in the tale, is so unsophisticated as to be unable to distinguish between art and pornography.

The Making of a Poet

Lewis and Campbell were both poets. Campbell was successful in this pursuit, and admired by many. Lewis . . . much less so. But it was my recent reading of one of Campbell’s poems on the subject of poetry that set me to researching for this column. So it’s only fitting that I close now with his poem entitled, “The Making of a Poet.”

It’s quite visceral, evoking the savage imagery of his native Africa, and hints at what inspired Lewis to caricature him in the way we read a moment ago.

In every herd there is some restive steer
Who leaps the cows and heads each hot stampede,
Till the old bulls unite in jealous fear
To hunt him from the pastures where they feed.

Lost in the night he hears the jungles crash
And desperately, lest his courage fail,
Across his hollow flanks with sounding lash
Scourges the heavy whipcord of his tail.

Far from the phalanxes of horns that ward
The sleeping herds he keeps the wolf at bay,
At nightfall by the slinking leopard spoored,
And goaded by the fly-swarm through the day.

You can read more of Campbell’s poetry here.

Similes & Metaphors

December 16, 2014 — 11 Comments

agdeiSimiles are wonderful literary tools. Being able to compare two dissimilar things in a way that brings out subtle nuances and insights is quite enjoyable.

Here are a couple of examples off the top of my head. (I don’t pretend others haven’t written these things, but I didn’t plagiarize them.).

A politician is like a weathervane.

Arguing theology is like having indigestion.

Disliking Narnia is like hating a feast.

Metaphors, of course, are far more powerful than similes. When we consider a metaphor we are pondering how two different things actually share some fundamental quality.

Comprehending metaphors requires the ability to think abstractly. A child—confined to a world of concrete concepts—cannot begin to think of their nation as a “motherland” or “fatherland,” as the case may be. Yet, those are powerful nurturing and bonding words that countless patriots have embraced throughout the centuries.

A simile might say “our country is like a family.” A metaphor suggests far more. In this case, it might convey that one’s allegiance to their nation should exceed their loyalty to their biological kin.

Nowhere is the magnificence of metaphors more manifest than in the way we talk about God. One of the most famous biblical passages is a straight forward example. “God is love” (1 John 4:8).

Jesus the Christ said of himself, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life” (John 14:6). He also called himself the “Light of the world. Whoever follows me,” he added, “will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).

It is a sad thing when a symbol loses its meaning. There is a prime example of that phenomenon in Oxford. And you can see it in the sign that hangs above a pub frequented by the Inklings.

No, not the Eagle and Child, which they affectionately referred to as the Bird and Baby.

After renovations to the Eagle and Child eliminated their privacy, the writers transitioned across the street to the Lamb and Flag. Both pubs trace their history back to the seventeenth century, and the latter is actually owned by St. John’s College. (It’s profits fund student scholarships.) In a 1963 letter, Lewis colorfully described the move thusly:

Mon 11 March it is. But note that our causeries de lundi are now permanently transferred to the Lamb & Flag. We were sorry to break with tradition, but the B & B had become too intolerably cold, dark, noisy, and child-pestered.

Sadly, when many people look at the Lamb on the pub’s sign, they fail to recognize it’s significance. The lamb carrying a cross-emblazoned banner is nothing other than the Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God.

What, some may wonder, is the Lamb of God? The better question is “who” is the lamb. The symbol represents Jesus Christ himself. It hearkens to the declaration of John the Baptizer as Jesus approached the Jordan: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29).

To understand what it means to say “Jesus is the Lamb,” requires two things. First, a recognition that it is more than a simile; it is not simply that he possesses some of the attributes we would naturally associate with a lamb, such as gentleness. The second requisite is that we understand something about the Jewish sacrificial system.

For, Jesus being the Lamb of God means nothing less than that he is the true, complete, ultimate and final sacrifice for the sins of humanity.

And that is a wonder definitely worth pondering during this Christmas season.