THE PILGRIM'S REGRESS (Philosophical & Psychological Novel). C. S. Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ Man Behind the Gun

       Table of Contents

      When John could run no further he sat down. The noise of the pursuers had died away and, looking back, he could see no sign of Eschropolis. He was covered with filth and blood, and his breathing hurt him. There seemed to be something wrong with one of his wrists. As he was too tired to walk he sat still and thought for a while. And first he thought that he would like to go back to Mr. Halfways. ‘It is true,’ he said, ‘that if you listened to him too long it would lead you to Media—and she had a trace of brown in her. But then you had a glimpse of the Island first. Now the Clevers took you straight to brown girls—or worse—without even a glimpse of the Island. I wonder would it be possible to keep always at the Island stage with Mr. Halfways? Must it always end like that?’ Then it came into his head that after all he did not want Mr. Halfways’ songs, but the Island itself: and that this was the only thing he wanted in the world. And when he remembered this he rose very painfully to continue his journey, looking round for the West. He was still in the flat country, but there seemed to be mountains ahead, and above them the sun was setting. A road ran towards them: so he began to limp along it. Soon the sunset disappeared and the sky was clouded over and a cold rain began.

       What did the Revolutionary Intellectuals live on?

      When he had limped about a mile he passed a man who was mending the fence of his field and smoking a big cigar. John stopped and asked him if he knew the way to the sea.

      ‘Nope,’ said the man without looking up.

      ‘Do you know of any place in this country where I could get a night’s lodging?’

      ‘Nope,’ said the man.

      ‘Could you give me a piece of bread?’ said John.

      ‘Certainly not,’ said Mr. Mammon, ‘it would be contrary to all economic laws. It would pauperize you.’ Then, when John lingered, he added, ‘Move on. I don’t want any loiterers about here.’

      John limped on for about ten minutes. Suddenly he heard Mr. Mammon calling out to him. He stopped and turned round.

      ‘What do you want?’ shouted John.

      ‘Come back,’ said Mr. Mammon.

      John was so tired and hungry that he humbled himself to walk back (and the way seemed long) in the hope that Mammon had relented. When he came again to the place where they had talked before, the man finished his work without speaking and then said:

      ‘Where did you get your clothes torn?’

      ‘I had a quarrel with the Clevers in Eschropolis.’

      ‘Clevers?’

      ‘Don’t you know them?’

      ‘Never heard of them.’

      ‘You know Eschropolis?’

      ‘Know it? I own Eschropolis.’

      ‘How do you mean?’

      ‘What do you suppose they live on?’

      ‘I never thought of that.’

      ‘Every man of them earns his living by writing for me or having shares in my land. I suppose the “Clevers” is some nonsense they do in their spare time—when they’re not beating up tramps,’ and he glanced at John. Then he resumed his work.

      ‘You needn’t wait,’ he said presently.

      Chapter Five

      Under Arrest

       Table of Contents

       He is hindered from pursuing his quest by the intellectual climate of the Age

      Then I turned round and immediately began to dream again and I saw John plodding westward in the dark and the rain, in great distress, because he was too tired to go on and too cold to stop. And after a time there came a north wind that drove the rain away and skinned the puddles with ice and set the bare boughs clashing in the trees. And the moon came out. Now John looked up with his teeth chattering and saw that he was entering into a long valley of rocks with high cliffs on the right and the left. And the far end of the valley was barred with a high cliff all across except for one narrow pass in the middle. The moonlight lay white on this cliff and right amidst it was a huge shadow like a man’s head. John glanced over his shoulder and saw that the shadow was thrown by a mountain behind him, which he had passed in the darkness.

      It was far too cold for a man to stay still in the wind, and I dreamed of John going stumblingly forward up the valley till now he had come to the rock-wall and was about to enter the pass. But just as he rounded a great boulder and came full in sight of the pass he saw some armed men sitting in it by a brazier; and immediately they sprang up and barred his way.

      ‘You can’t pass here,’ said their leader.

      ‘Where can I pass?’ said John.

      ‘Where are you going to?’

      ‘I am going to find the sea in order to set sail for an Island that I have seen in the West.’

      ‘Then you cannot pass.’

      ‘By whose orders?’

      ‘Do you not know that all this country belongs to the Spirit of the Age?’

      ‘I am sorry,’ said John, ‘I didn’t know. I have no wish to trespass. I will go round some other way. I will not go through his country at all.’

       Specially Freudianism

      ‘You fool,’ said the captain, ‘you are in his country now. This pass is the way out of it, not the way into it. He welcomes strangers. His quarrel is with runaways.’ Then he called to one of his men and said, ‘Here, Enlightenment, take this fugitive to our Master.’

      A young man stepped out and clapped fetters upon John’s hands: then putting the length of chain over his own shoulder and giving it a jerk he began to walk down the valley dragging John after him.

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