
Leithen, sitting with the narrator beside the pony track above Correi na Sidhe, tells the story of Hollond, a mathematical genius and Cambridge don who had been his fag at Eton. Hollond, author of an acclaimed book on Number, was outwardly a hardy, practical man and skilled Alpine climber, but privately obsessed for years with the idea that ordinary conceptions of Space as an empty, homogeneous void were false. At Chamonix he first hinted to Leithen that Space might be "full," crammed with realities perceptible to animals and savages through some faculty civilised man had lost — the instinct that lets a cat find its way home or a beast shy from nothing visible. Months later Hollond arrived at Leithen's rooms in Duke Street with a kit-bag of papers, insisting he had proven mathematically that the constituents of aether move according to fixed laws describable in new geometric forms involving a fourth dimension. He believed the civilised mind could recover the lost sense of Space's "quality" and claimed to have done so himself. Leithen, unable to follow the mathematics, pressed him on how intellectual knowledge of these forms could translate into actual perception; Hollond never answered the objection but described his own growing consciousness of shifting corridors, halls, and alleys in Space, navigable like a compass bearing once given a starting angle. He began bumping into furniture like an absent-minded man, his mind partly elsewhere, and told Leithen he could feel "left" and "right" as evidence of Space's mobility. He also began investigating psychical research and dream phenomena, disliking the charlatans he met there. For over a year Hollond seemed cheerful and unusually fit, exhilarated rather than troubled by his discovery — even losing his old fear of heights while climbing. Then one evening he returned agitated, reporting that he had detected other "Presences" — other minds — moving in his world of Space, producing a sensation he called intellectual fear. Leithen, treating the matter as an abstract legal problem of evidence, offered three possible explanations: ordinary minds projected in sleep, other minds like Hollond's own that had gained the same sense, or spirits of the dead. Hollond found none satisfying and quoted a stanza from the poet Traherne about unknown "friends" inhabiting unseen tracts, though he insisted he did not mean angels. Two months later Leithen met Hollond again, now emaciated and terrified, speaking of "the Desolation" and "the Abomination of the Desolation," and of approaching a nameless terror. Leithen scolded him back to sense and saw him off at Charing Cross for the Alps, where he had promised to write often. Instead Leithen received only a postcard, printed like an invalid's hand, reading "I know at last — God's mercy. — H. G. H." Leithen arrived at Chamonix in time for Hollond's funeral: after dismissing his guides and putting his affairs meticulously in order without a word to anyone, Hollond had climbed alone, deviated from the ordinary route on the Grepon, and fallen to his death on the rocks below. Leithen concludes that Hollond went out that day deliberately to die, having gone "too far into the land of pure spirit," and chose the steepest possible fall so that no one would see the look that had come into his eyes.
By John Buchan · First published 1906 · Genre: Philosophical Fiction, Science Fiction, Psychological Fiction · 8,586 words
"Est impossibile? Certum est. " TERTULLIAN.
Space is listed on Textopian as a novel by John Buchan, dated 1906 CE.
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