Enchantment in a classic-style Fairy Tale: The Horse and His Boy (Chronicles of Narnia)

In my re-reading through The Chronicles of Narnia, it strikes me that the stories involve a great deal of action and travel and places outside of Narnia itself.  Only three out of the seven Narnia tales actually have the majority of action taking place in the land of Narnia:  the first two (The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, and Prince Caspian) and the very last one (The Last Battle).  In between, Lewis first introduces the islands at sea (Voyage of the Dawn Treader), then the land to the north of Narnia, as well as under Narnia (The Silver Chair).  The next installment takes us back to the “golden age” of the rule of High King Peter along with King Edmund and Queens Susan and Lucy — and to lands south of Narnia.  In The Horse and His Boy we are introduced to Archenland and especially Calormen.

Nearing the end of The Horse and His Boy, the wonder and enchantment are back, and appreciation for the story.  The plot is more complex than the earliest books, and introduces more human characters in Narnia’s neighboring countries — extra details not in the first books.  In this enjoyable story, we have several themes intertwined:  a variation on Greek classic literature (Oedipus),in a positive spin, and the rags to riches motif as well, for Shasta/Cor (somewhat like Charles’ Dickens tale of Oliver Twist, though much briefer and with the fantasy elements of another world with talking animals) combined with other characters who start out high and noble and must learn what it is to be humbled and abased.

In this story also we especially see God’s hand of Providence, and Aslan’s purpose in directing the lives of the two human children and the two talking horses:  the lion that appears (seemingly two lions) for the purpose of forcing the two traveling groups to meet and work together (Shasta with Bree, and Hwin with Aravis); the cat that comforts Shasta alone at the tombs, which later turns into a lion to ward off the jackals; and then especially the great scene in which Shasta rides slowly along on the dumb (non-talking) horse, left behind and alone, yet with the Presence of Someone, the great Aslan.  Here we also have the recurring theme of each individual’s story, and to be content with that.  Just as Aslan had rebuked Lucy for eavesdropping (by means of magic) on a conversation between two of her classmates in Voyage of the Dawn Treader, so here Aslan tempers Shasta’s curiosity as to why Aslan the Lion had attacked Aravis and whipped her back:  “Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers.  I tell no-one any story but his own.”  As we later find out, of course, Aslan does tell Aravis her own story.

Modern critics no doubt find much to criticize in The Horse and His Boy, especially the “racist” treatment of the dark-skinned people of Calormen, who are presented as the stereotype of uncouth Arabians. For C.S. Lewis of course, the characterization of the Calormene also, and significantly, is that of a pagan nation, spiritually dark, without hope, without God, and thus showing the fruits of such a world: slavery, cruelty, and sadness.  Some of Lewis’s writing style and words now appear dated, in part due to the corruption and perversion of some of our English words in the years since Lewis wrote in the 1950s.  Yet Lewis’ main point throughout is a contrast between a pagan land (which bears some similarities to our folk tales of Arabians and dark-skinned people of the Middle East and Africa) and Christian lands (of the North, which was Lewis’ primary love as well, things of a northern quality).  The scene of the Narnian rulers entering Tashbaan, indeed, provides the stark contrast, of the joy and happiness of the Narnians.

Their tunics were of fine, bright, hardy colours–woodland green, or gay yellow, or fresh blue.  Instead of turbans they wore steel or silver caps, some of them set with jewels… instead of being grave and mysterious like most Calormenes, they walked with a swing and let their arms and shoulders go free, and chatted and laughed.  One was whistling.  You could see that they were ready to be friends with anyone who was friendly, and didn’t give a fig for anyone who wasn’t.  Shasta thought he had never seen anything so lovely in his life.

More could be said, regarding the many plot points in The Horse and His Boy, such as the contrast of wisdom with folly and the foolish characters, as well as the pride in Bree and Aravis.  How does this world have such thriving communities of humans, with a clear history of many years, in a world that (according to The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe) has mostly talking beasts and was under a spell of 100 years of winter until only a few years ago (15 years ago at most)?  The answer of course is provided with the creation of these other lands Archenland and Calormen.  Only Narnia had been under the winter spell all those years, and thus it is now becoming a power to be reckoned with  (according to the leaders of Calormen).  Narnia’s past of endless winter is well integrated into this story, with references to it from Aravis’ city friend Lasaraleen.

This, the 5th published book in The Chronicles of Narnia (and the third book according to Narnian chronology), is an enjoyable story, escapism with a lot of elements that make a great fairy tale story.  It would be nice to see a movie or stage dramatization of this; apparently it has been done in some places as a stage production.  It was not included in the BBC mini-series.  Apparently something of a movie has been made in recent years, or attempted at least.  But usually, it seems, movie efforts at the full Chronicles of Narnia series get stalled after completion of the earlier books.

 

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Prince Caspian: Faeries and Spiritual Lessons

I’m revisiting the Chronicles of Narnia series after many years, and just finished the second one in the series, Prince Caspian.  When people mention their favorites within The Chronicles of Narnia, they usually mention the first one (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe), and a few others often get mentioned.  Prince Caspian, sometimes subtitled The Return to Narnia, is usually not in the list of the top favorites.  Indeed, in the reviews at Goodreads, I noted one reviewer’s three star rating, with criticism that Prince Caspian  doesn’t have much action in the story – mainly a lot of travelling and celebrating — and that the book’s only “spiritual lesson” is Aslan’s invisibility and the step of faith they take in following his lead, and then as they follow him they can see him.

I agree, that is one great spiritual lesson, in which Lucy is more spiritually-inclined and sees Aslan, and then realizes that she must follow Aslan, even when the other children (all older than her) don’t believe her — and that she must follow him even if the others won’t go with her.  As referenced above, at the second sighting of Aslan, on Lucy’s insistence, the others do follow after Lucy who follows Aslan — and then gradually the others (first Edmund, then Peter, and lastly Susan and the Dwarf) are able to see Aslan.

Yet even Prince Caspian has many other spiritual lessons, as well as points that might not seem all that significant in our modern / post-modern rationalist world.  Especially near the end, we see several more allusions to biblical truth, including the great scene where Aslan asks Caspian if he thinks he’s ready to be a king — revealing young Caspian’s humble response (rather like the young King Solomon).  Another great scene occurs with Reepicheep and his fellow mice.  When Reepicheep’s friends show their willingness to cut off their own tails (to match Reepicheep’s wound), Aslan responds favorably, in a scene that reminds me of the “faith of a few close friends” that brought their paralyzed friend on a mat down through the roof of a house, in front of Jesus for healing (Mark 2:1-12).

You have great hearts!  Not for the sake of your dignity, Reepicheep, but for the love that is between you and your people, and still more for the kindness your people showed me long ago when you ate away the cords that bound me on the stone table …. you shall have your tail again.

But now to another very intriguing aspect of Prince Caspian:  the historical belief in this world of “faeries” — or as C.S. Lewis referred to them in “The Discarded Image,”  longaevi (“long-livers”): so as to not confuse his readers with a term co-opted by Disney for a very different usage.  Here is a four-part series with interesting information, noting the pre-modern belief, in every culture throughout the world — up until the Enlightenment age — in nature spirits:

• Why Everyone Should Believe in Fairies
• Why Everyone Should Believe in Fairies, Part 2
• Why Everyone Should Believe in Fairies, Part 3
• Why Everyone Should Believe in Fairies, Part 4

These articles mention C.S. Lewis and his belief, as well as writings from J.R.R. Tolkien, but also from the early Church Fathers and one prominent modern-day Orthodox Christian.  As I read these articles, I thought also of Prince Caspian — maybe we 21st century modernists and urban dwellers are like the Telmarines, who rejected belief in the spirits of nature and kept away from Old Narnia.  Interestingly enough, the writer of these articles also mentioned Lewis’ Prince Caspian, in this very connection:

While many other examples could be given from the writings of Lewis, Prince Caspian is another book worth mentioning — the entire story revolves around the reenchantment of Narnia after all of the trees had fallen asleep and the few talking animals and magic creatures left alive had all retreated deep into hiding, following generations of rule by “Enlightened” men who did not believe in foolish superstitions.

A similar idea comes out in Tolkien’s The Two Towers, in the second part of King Theoden’s healing.  After Gandalf has restored Theoden to his right mind, and removed him from Wormtongue’s bewitchment, Theoden has a second startling experience to re-shape his world.  He suddenly finds that the “nursery tales” that he never paid attention to, are quite true, and he observes them, the trees which have been there through the ages:

‘They are the shepherds of the trees,’ answered Gandalf.  ‘Is it so long since you listened to tales by the fireside?  There are children in your land who, out of the twisted threads of story, could pick the answer to your question.  You have seen Ents, O King…. Did you think that the name was given only in idle fancy?  Nay, Theoden, it is otherwise: to them you are but the passing tale; all the years from Eorl the Young to Theoden the Old are of little count to them; and all the deeds of your house but a small matter.’

(Theoden) ‘Out of the shadows of legend I begin a little to understand the marvel of the trees, I think.  I have lived to see strange days.  Long we have tended our beasts and our fields, built our houses, wrought our tools, or ridden away to help in the wars of Minas Tirith.  And that we called the life of Men, the way of the world.  We cared little for what lay beyond the borders of our own land.  Songs we have that tell of these things, but we are forgetting them, teaching them only to children, as a careless custom.  And now the songs have come down among us out of strange places, and walk visible under the Sun.’

As I continue to explore the worlds of Narnia and Middle Earth, along with study of the early church, it is fascinating to find out about the truths and possible truths behind the ancient legends.

I welcome your thoughts here.  What do you think about the faeries, from the points mentioned here in this post, as well as from the linked articles?

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Narnia: Did Aslan Die Only for Edmund, or For All Narnia?

In The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, did Aslan die (only) for Edmund?  Or is there more to it than that?  A superficial reading might give the idea that Aslan died for the treacherous Edmund, in a  “ransom theory” atonement, such that the price was paid to the White Witch.  (Several years ago, I heard –in a SermonAudio lesson–a Sunday School teacher commenting on the “ransom theory” atonement, mentioning that some people had criticized C.S. Lewis about that, and noting that Lewis had responded, to not press the story details too far; it was fiction, a story, after all.)

I first read The Chronicles of Narnia in the early 1990s, and from the local bookstore bought the encyclopedic Companion to Narnia  — the original edition; it is now available in an updated, revised edition.  It is a great resource, a wealth of information with hundreds of pages of entries on numerous topics having to do with the characters, events, places, and history of Narnia, along with several black & white illustrations from the books.  Along with that wealth of information, though, it was also my first introduction to “the world of higher criticism.” The author, Paul F. Ford, believed that the Pentateuch was written many years after the fact by later, unknown authors — rather than the traditional view of Moses’ authorship.  Interestingly enough, he expressed this view in the Introduction to Companion to Narnia, as a reason for reading the Narnia books in their published order, rather than in the strictly chronological sequence that would start with the creation story, The Magician’s Nephew.

Many modern Christian theologians, basing their thinking on the best of modern biblical scholarship, have discerned that the Hebrews first knew themselves as a people as a result of their having been miraculously rescued from slavery in Egypt.  Their first experience was one of redemption.  Only later, when they came into contact with the Babylonian culture in which an elaborate explanation of the creation of the world was given, did they gather their own creation stories together and write, under inspiration, their own origins and the origins of the universe.

The author also maintained a limited view of Aslan’s atonement: as only for Edmund. He mentions this only in passing, I cannot recall the exact reference, but in one entry he states that the later character, King Tirian, who claimed that Aslan died for all Narnia, was incorrect — since Aslan only died for Edmund.  Another entry, for “Stone Table,” states:  it was decreed before time began that the table would crack when a willing and innocent victim was killed “in a traitor’s stead”—exactly the circumstances of Aslan’s self-sacrifice for Edmund’s sake—and time would begin to run backwards. 

But a closer look tells us that C.S. Lewis intended much more, and he brought this out in several ways.  Soon after Aslan’s resurrection, for one thing, Aslan goes out and frees all the captives of the White Witch.  He breathes on each statue, each captive in the White Witch’s castle — restoring them to life, setting them free, work that is symbolic of what our Lord accomplished in His death and resurrection, of releasing the prisoners, setting the captives free from sin and Satan’s dominion (reference Colossians 1:13).  Aslan also brings an end to the 100 years “Always Winter” rule of the White Witch, ushering in a new era for a redeemed and freed Narnia.  A self-sacrifice, a substitutionary death for Edmund the traitor, and only for Edmund, could not have brought about such wondrous results for everyone else; Edmund might have been freed to return to his home in England, but such a limited scope would have left Narnia still in bondage and her prisoners as statues at her castle.

The later statements, such as in Voyage of the Dawn Treader and The Last Battle, further attest to the truth understood by the Narnians — and of course what C.S. Lewis clearly intended for Narnia.  Edmund himself, in Voyage of the Dawn Treader, told Eustace that Aslan had died for him, and for all Narnia:  He is the great Lion, the son of the Emperor over Sea, who saved me and saved Narnia.  In The Last Battle, the last Narnian King, Tirian, after declaring that the ape was lying, meant to continue his speech, to include a description of the good Lion by whose blood all Narnia was saved.

So in our appreciation for the Chronicles of Narnia, as we consider the many analogies and parallels to Christianity, we must look at the full scope of all seven books, and even at later events in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.  To insist that Aslan’s death was only for Edmund, as described in the one scene in LWW, is to miss the full story that C.S. Lewis told, along with the many other biblical associations in the Narnia redemption story.

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