The Four Loves by C.S Lewis

I was intrigued when I heard that C.S. Lewis narrated this book himself, and was pleased to see that my library had it for digital download. But I didn’t realize that there were two versions. The one that Lewis does so wonderfully is a set of four lectures he gave on the radio in 1958, and is basically a rough draft of the final book, which was released two years later. I enjoyed the radio talks so much that I dug out my physical copy to underline favorite bits. I discovered, however, that it was practically impossible to find the same passages because the final book is twice as long as the radio talks. Obviously, he reworked and rewrote quite a bit of it.

The four loves are 1) Storgé/familial love, 2) Friendship, 3) Eros/romantic love, and 4) Agape/Charity. His description of storgé was so endearing that I had to stop listening and write it down. It comes from Greek and refers to affection, especially of parents to children.

It’s usually the humblest of the loves. It gives itself no airs. Storge is modest, even furtive and shame-faced. Storge has a very homely face. So have many of those for whom we feel it. It’s no proof of your cleverness or perceptiveness or refinement that you love them nor that they love you. To have to produce storge in public is like getting your household furniture out for a move. It was all right in its native place, but it looks tawdry out of doors. And the feeling of storge is so nearly organic, so gradual, so unemphatic, that you can no more pride yourself on it than on getting sleepy towards bedtime. It lives with humble, unpraised private things: the thump of a drowsy dog’s tail on the kitchen floor, the sound of a sewing machine, easy laughter and easy tears on some shrewd and wrinkled old face, a toy left on the lawn. It’s the most comfortable and least ecstatic of loves. It is to our emotions what soft slippers and an easy, almost worn-out chair, and old clothes are to our bodies. It wraps you round like a blanket almost like sleep. At its best, it gives you the pleasure, ease, and relaxation of solitude without solitude itself.

Beautiful, right? But just when I was completely enamored, he delineates all the ways this kind of love can be distorted. That is how the book goes. He explains each type of love at its glorious best and then shows how easily it can turn into something manipulative and selfish. His conclusion comes in the final chapter where he emphasizes the importance of self-giving love as the only solution for keeping the other loves from becoming corrupted. In this chapter he writes his famous lines:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable…. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell. (p. 121)

Note: The book gets a bad rap for some comments he makes about the differences between men and women, but, honestly, don’t let that keep you from reading it. Anything written by Lewis is worth tackling for his wonderful clarity and depth.  

Blessings,