I recently fulfilled a longtime dream by visiting the home of C.S. Lewis, the writer and scholar, near Oxford, UK.
What a privilege it was to see The Kilns! I stood in the study where Lewis wrote The Chronicles of Narnia, Surprised by Joy and his religious works. I touched the fireplace and the wall hoping that the author’s soaring talent would pass into me. I saw Lewis’s light-filled bedroom where he had hung a photograph of the Shroud of Turin.
On a more sobering note, I was in the room where the great man died, launching his journey to the other home he had written about for so long.
Some furnishings in the residence date to Lewis’s residence, including blackout curtains from World War II. They ensured that German bombers could not see homes. I also saw the marriage license for Lewis’s civil marriage to Joy Davidman.
Though I have read three biographies about Lewis, I heard a new story about him involving a staircase outside the house. Lewis had put in the staircase so he had a private entrance to his bedroom. Mrs. Moore, the lady whom Lewis cared for and might have had a romantic relationship with, used the room next to Lewis’s as her bedroom. The door between the bedrooms was locked and eventually Lewis lost the key. When Moore was moved out of the house, her bedroom became Lewis’s study. Because Lewis had lost the key, he would go down the staircase outside the house, walk in through the front door, go up the inside staircase and into his study to work. When he married Joy, she became annoyed at this convoluted habit of walking outside to go inside when all he had to do was open the door between his bedroom and study. When she asked him why he did it, he explained that he had lost the key. She had a locksmith at the house the same day.
Behind the property is the C.S. Lewis Nature Reserve, which has a small lake. More than a century before Lewis’s residence, the poet Percy Shelley had visited the spot.
Holy Trinity Church, Lewis’s former Parish, is a 10-minute walk from The Kilns. It is where Lewis and his brother Warren were laid to rest. I said a prayer.
The visit to The Kilns almost did not happen. Prior to my trip, I had emailed a request for a tour to the C.S. Lewis Foundation, which did not respond. The organization’s website says that tours are conducted by appointment only so that scholars who use the house can have a little privacy. After a couple days I sent a second request, adding that it would be an honor for me because I have read 29 of Lewis’s books and six books about him. I figured there would be no response again, but a reply came minutes later.
I finished the visit in Oxford’s city center to see the Eagle and Child pub, the site of Inklings writers’ group meetings and debates. J.R.R. Tolkien was a member. I raised a beer to both writers and almost imagined them sitting across from me.