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A Man Divided

Title: A Man Divided

Author: Olaf Stapledon

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Language: English

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Date first posted: June 2006

Date most recently updated: June 2006

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A Man Divided

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A Man Divided

Olaf Stapledon

IN GRATITIDE TO HER

FOR BEING

1 - A WEDDING FIASCO

1921

VICTOR HAD REFUSED his bride at the altar! That was the brute fact which agitated the little party in the vestry. No amount of

explanation could mitigate it. As best man I had been in a good position to observe events; and even I, who had formerly been

fairly intimate with Victor, was completely taken by surprise. True, I had long suspected that there was something queer about

him; but up to the very moment of his quietly shattering remark, as he put the ring into his pocket, I had no idea that anything

serious was amiss.

James Victor Cadogan-Smith, later to be known as plain Victor Smith, had seemed the ideal bridegroom. He was the son of a

successful colonial administrator who had climbed by his own ability from a very lowly position, and had recently acquired a

knighthood. The family had been humble "Smiths" until Victor's father had married the only child of a more aristocratic family,

and had agreed to splice his wife's name to his own.

The new "Cadogan-Smith" assured his friends that he had done this mainly to please his father-in-law. But in later life he used to

say, "In those days my snobbery was unconscious."

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A Man Divided

His son Victor was born in 1890. He was now a bridegroom of thirty- one, and certainly a catch for any girl. Looking at him in

his wedding clothes, one could not help using the cliché "every inch a gentleman". His financial prospects were excellent. He was

already reputed to be one of the most brilliant young business men of his city, and he was well established as a junior partner in a

great shipping firm. Victor had come through the Great War, as we called it in those days, undamaged and with a Military Cross;

and now, in the brief period of optimism that followed the war, it seemed that he had excellent prospects of working out for

himself a triumphant business career in the phase of post-war recovery. To crown all, he had secured as his bride the charming

daughter of the head of his firm.

The wedding celebrations had been planned in appropriate style. The only factor which was not in perfect harmony with the spirit

of the occasion, I fear, was the best man. I had been greatly flattered by Victor's request that I should fill this office, but I could

not help wondering why he had not asked one of his many more presentable friends. His subsequent behaviour toward me almost

suggested that he regretted his choice. Certainly I did not fit at all into the picture of a smart wedding; and from the moment when

I found that I should have to hire a conventional wedding garment my heart had failed me. Victor must have found me a very

inefficient manager, for he had to re-arrange almost everything that I had undertaken. I knew, of course, that in one of his moods

he had sometimes an almost obsessive passion for correctness, but I had been surprised and exasperated by his meticulous

scrutiny of every detail of our clothing and of the time- table of the honeymoon tour.

At the church, Victor's erect and perfectly tailored figure had seemed the very pattern of orthodoxy; and Edith, I am sure, must

have been admired by the whole congregation as the ideal bride, so "radiant" was she (yes, that is the fatally right word), and so

expensively adorned.

I remember I was rather surprised when the bridegroom suddenly scratched his head, as though in perplexity, and began looking

about him in a frank, inquisitive manner that seemed out of keeping with the occasion. And perhaps it was not quite seemly

suddenly to turn his face full upon the lovely creature at his side; but everyone must have readily forgiven him, since his

expression suggested great tenderness. I remember noticing that his eyelids, normally inclined to droop, so that his face wore the

drowsy look of a lion in captivity, were now fully raised. His blue eyes gazed with a vitality--yes, and a warmth of feeling--which

I had never before seen in them. "Such," I thought, "is the power of love." But the words had scarcely formed themselves in my

mind, when Victor cut into the rector's solemn recitative in a voice that was unusually gentle but also unusually decisive. "Edith,"

he said, "we mustn't go on with this. I've-I've just waked up, and I see quite clearly that I am not the one for you, nor you for me."

For a moment, silence. The bride stared at the bridegroom like a startled hind, then let herself be hurried away on her father's arm.

Victor, protesting his contrition, and offering to explain himself, followed the outraged bridal party into the vestry, with me upon

his heels, and behind me his own distressed father.

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A Man Divided

When the door was shut, the bride's father turned on Victor with indignation, spluttering of breach of promise. Her mother

attempted to console her. Edith herself was very properly in tears; but also, through streaming eyes, she stared at Victor with such

an expression of fascinated terror that I looked to see what could have caused it. Certainly it seemed a new Victor that took

charge of this very awkward situation. Except for the fact that he sometimes tugged at his collar and mopped the sweat from his

face, he behaved with complete composure. He looked from one to the other of us all with a curious intensity and exhilaration,

almost as though it was we that had changed, and he must size us up afresh. Presently in a tone of authority that silenced the rest

of us he said, "Listen to me for a minute! I know I can't ever put things right after the mess I have made, but I'll do whatever I

can. Anyhow, I must try to explain. Standing there in these damned silly clothes and listening to the rector, I--well, as I said, I

just woke up from a sort of dream. I saw Edith and me as we really are, me a young snob without a mind, and Edith--well, she's

good to look at, very" (he smiled ruefully at her), "and what's more, underneath all the conventional trappings of her mind there's

something sensitive and honest; yes, and much too good for me, for that drowsy snob. In my dream-life I really did think I was in

love with her, but I wasn't really, even then, and I'm certainly not now." He was watching Edith, and an expression of pain passed

over his face as he said, "God! What a mess! Edith, I know I have hurt you horribly, but I have saved you from something far

worse, from marrying that somnambulant snob."

No one had supposed Victor capable of talking like this. Or no one but myself. To me, though the whole incident had of course

been very surprising, it had not seemed entirely out of keeping with certain events in the past; particularly so, when Victor turned

from Edith to me with a special smile. It was a twisted smile, half quizzical but wholly amiable, which in the old days I had learnt

to regard as revealing the true Victor, but had lately missed. The smile faded into a grave and steady gaze, while he said to the

company, "Harry, here, perhaps knows what I mean, partly." This remark turned the attention of the three parents upon me, and I

could feel them blaming me for Victor's shocking deed. Victor's father looked at his son, then back at me, and the look said as

clearly as words could have done, "My boy, why did you get tangled up with this fellow? He's not one of us. And now, see where

he has led you!" At this point Edith brought the scene to a close by imploring her parents to take her home.

2 - VICTOR'S EARLY LIFE

From 1890 to 1912

THAT SAME AFTERNOON, while I was in my bedroom at the hotel, packing my hired clothes, and wondering how Victor was

dealing with the parents, he came in dressed in an old tweed coat and flannels. He flung himself into the easy chair and said,

"Thank God, oh, thank God, that's over I How wise of me, quite unconsciously wise, to fetch you along to be best man. You were

a sort of touchstone, or the alarm clock that woke me."

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A Man Divided

While I was pondering this, and mechanically packing, he changed the subject. "Harry, old man," he said, "don't go home yet,

unless you must. The least I can do after getting you into this mess is to tell you more about myself. It's rather urgent, because I

may go back into my sleep-life at any minute. If you can spare a few hours, let's walk somewhere."

This suggestion itself was surprising, Victor normally despised the humblest form of physical exercise. Tennis, rugger,

swimming, he enjoyed; and in all of them he was competent, in some brilliant. Walking he regarded as a mug's game. It was a

means of transport to be resorted to only when his sports car was off the road.

And now, though the car was available to take us quickly into open country, he asked me, rather sheepishly, if I should mind

going by bus. Sensing my surprise, he added, "You see, the car means the other life, the sleep-walker's life, and so it--well, it

gives me the creeps."

How I remember that bus journey of nearly thirty years ago! The bus was crowded, and we had to stand. The solid tyres chattered

our teeth together like dice in a box. When the conductor came for our fares, Victor surprised me by muddling the transaction.

The conductor, with unspoken contempt, handed back the superfluous coins. Victor looked at them, not with the shame of the

business man who had fallen short of the sacred virtue of business efficiency, but with a laugh which seemed to express relief at

his own carelessness. He then became entirely absorbed in watching our fellow passengers, with the same wide-eyed fascination

as he had displayed in the vestry. He stared so hard and so unselfconsciously that people began to grow restive and resentful. He

was particularly attentive to a comfortable body with an amiable face, who finally remarked with an attempt at severity, "Young

man, control your eyes!" Suddenly realizing that he was not behaving correctly, Victor chuckled and said in a breezy voice,

"Sorry I You mustn't mind me. I've been--well I've been asleep for several months, and it's so exciting to see people again; real

people, and not just dreams." A florid man, who evidently considered himself a wag, remarked, "They've let you out too soon,

lad. If I were you I'd take the next bus back." There was a general titter. Victor grinned; then winked, as he nudged me and said,

"It's all right. My keeper's with me."

At the terminus we set out along a suburban street that presently became more like a country road. Then came a path through

woods and fields. At last Victor began to tell me the strange facts about himself which threw light not only on his conduct at the

church but also on my earlier relations with him. But while part of his mind was occupied with recounting his biography, another

part seemed to be intensely concentrated in his senses. With alert eyes he looked about him at the scenery. Sometimes he would

stop to examine a leaf or a beetle as though he had never seen such a thing before, or pause at a stile to run his fingers curiously,

lovingly, along the grain of the wood, or dabble his hand in a stream with childish delight, or sniff the complicated fragrance of a

handful of earth. Once, when a woodpecker called, he stood still to listen. "What's that bird?" he asked. "What a lot I miss in my

sleep-life!"

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Olaf Stapledon - A Man Divided.pdf

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