Christopher Mitchell, Stratford Caldecott: Requiescat In Pace

I joked too often when sharing the ‘No pelicans’ story with friends and audiences that ‘Stratford Caldecott’ is a name too English to be non-fiction or even realist fiction. I know that if you read or have read anything this brilliant man wrote, you will understand that he was well named; he explained ideas and the world as we know it with a directness that bordered on the fantastic.

Christopher Mitchell I did meet, more than once, at Wheaton’s Wade Center, at the New York C. S. Lewis Society, and at Torrey. But we weren’t friends, except as much as Chris Mitchell was a very good friend to anyone needing or just wanting his help. A St Andrews University PhD in theology, he carried himself with the humility and graciousness of a person in service, a brilliant butler, if you will. That is no small achievement when you are the smartest man in the room, as Chris almost always was, and a real testimony to the depth and reality of his living faith and trust in Christ.

Both times I visited the Wade, once for research, once to speak, Dr Mitchell made a point of catching up with me in his upstairs office, asking what I was working on, and offering his thoughts, advice, and, as important, his encouragement. The first time I was neck deep in the literary alchemy of C. S. Lewis’ Space Trilogy and the second time I was giving a talk on the Narniad novels’ ring structures and alchemical relationships.

The talk would never have happened except for Chris’ generosity to an Inkling Studies novice and for the strong push he gave me in our first meeting to pursue structure in Lewis, Tolkien, and Williams, a subject he thought the most neglected in their work. Except for his confidence that I was on to something important and was equal to the exploration, I have to doubt I would have done the work I have in these areas.

Mitchell Obituaries? Look here and here and here. I don’t think any of them, sadly, capture the genial, fraternal luminescence of the man. As head of the Wade Center, the Mecca of global Inkling studies, and as editor of Seven, Chris knew everyone who has working, writing, and studying in the works of CSL, Tolkien, Charles Williams, Chesterton, Dorothy Sayers, George MacDonald, and Owen Barfield. More striking, they all knew Chris and, in my experience, they all, from the lowliest high school Hobbit reader to men and women who lived with the giants, liked Chris and valued his friendship and guidance.

One story to illustrate this point. I was at Biola/Torrey and the director of the Institute walked me back to my room after I’d given a talk. I mentioned what I was working on — rings in Lewis’ work — and what Chris Mitchell had told me about structure, that it was worth pursuing. Forgive me, but I knew, if the don I was with thought I was crazy, dropping Chris Mitchell’s name and support might temper his negative reaction. Instead, he swore me to confidentiality and told me that Prof Mitchell almost certainly was coming to Torrey to teach.

The obvious excitement he was feeling about this possibility was something I shared, something anyone who spent time with Christopher Mitchell felt. Here was a love and a willingness to help that is so rare that you look forward with no small eagerness to your next meeting. Scroll down to and read Lewis scholar Jim Como’s tribute here; it catches the brilliance, both in the sense of warmth and light, that was Christopher Mitchell.

While writing this, I listened to a talk Chris gave at the Wade Center on Tolkien and Fairy Stories. I still can’t believe he’s gone.

So, 2014 was a good year in many respects, I’m sure. I think I will remember it in years to come, though, largely for the loss of two men I did not know well and wish I had known better and whom I will wish I still had the chance to speak with again. I can thank God and their families, of course, for the great gift it was to know them both even as I did. Requiescat in pace, Stratford and Christopher. Memory Eternal.