Narnia Recap: The Telmarines have surrendered to the Narnias. Prince Caspian, Chapter 15: Aslan Makes a Door In The Air
AT THE SIGHT OF ASLAN THE CHEEKS OF the Telmarine soldiers became the color of cold gravy, their knees knocked together, and many fell on their faces. They had not believed in lions and this made their fear greater. Even the Red Dwarfs, who knew that he came as a friend, stood with open mouths and could not speak. Some of the Black Dwarfs, who had been of Nikabrik's party, began to edge away. But all the Talking Beasts surged round the Lion, with purrs and grunts and squeaks and whinnies of delight, fawning on him with their tails, rubbing against him, touching him reverently with their noses and going to and fro under his body and between his legs. If you have ever seen a little cat loving a big dog whom it knows and trusts, you will have a pretty good picture of their behavior. Then Peter, leading Caspian, forced his way through the crowd of animals.
There are SO many things I love about this paragraph.
I love that, because I'm a Texan and our "gravy" is usually white gravy, that this imagery of gravy-colored cheeks makes the Telmarines look like the ghostiest ghosts that ever ghosted down the ghosting aisle. I love that Lewis goes full throttle with the over-the-top race-essentialist color-coded framing that Red Dwarves are all that is good and wonderful but Black Dwarves are pretty much as a whole shifty and untrustworthy and always on the precipice of being the enemy. (I mean, they could have all just been dwarves without any colors, with some good and some bad, but no we had to Color Code 'Em For Our Convenience.) But most of all, I love that Peter -- white Peter, human Peter, English Peter, Magnificent Peter -- FORCES his way through the crowd of Narnian natives who are touching their king and god for the first time in 300+ years rather than wait his turn for a few measly minutes.
LINES ARE FOR LITTLE PEOPLE!
(You just know Peter would be a little terror in the malls at Christmas. "Let me through to see Santa!" he'd yell indignantly. "I"m Peter the Magnificent and we're on speaking terms ever since that one time he gave me a sword. Now move aside!")
"This is Caspian, Sir," he said. And Caspian knelt and kissed the Lion's paw.
"Welcome, Prince," said Aslan. "Do you feel yourself sufficient to take up the Kingship of Narnia?"
"I -- I don't think I do, Sir," said Caspian. "I'm only a kid."
"Good," said Aslan. "If you had felt yourself sufficient, it would have been a proof that you were not. Therefore, under us and under the High King, you shall be King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands. You and your heirs while your race lasts. And your coronation -- but what have we here?"
So let's talk about a little pet peeve I have with the You Are Not What You Think trope.
I don't care for this trope, if only because it's eight parts too simplistic and two parts overused like whoa. At least for me, it was drilled into me as a child, never directly but through its constant repetition in things like, well, like Narnia. Those who think themselves first are actually last; those who think themselves unqualified are really the best people for the job. And so forth.
And probably this trope was started because there's a ring -- a tiny, but true ring -- of realness to it. I will always be fond of Douglas Adams' insistence that "anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job." Adams is saying (I would argue), that the amount of personal drive and ambition that is required in order to be elected to power are precisely the capabilities that make the candidate least suited for the job. But even if that framing is true then the statement can be taken to be as much about the brokenness of the political process as it can be about the value of self-assessment.
Aslan's statement here is not, I think, about the brokenness of the political process, because there is no "political process" in Narnia other than "have the correct parents". (See how Narnia's next king will be Caspian's sperm-baby, with no regard to whether or not he is competent to do the job.) Instead, Aslan's statement is a reflection on the wrongness of self-assessment: Caspian thinks he will be a bad (or inadequate) ruler, so therefore he will be a good one. If Caspian thought he would be a good ruler, it would prove he wouldn't be. It's simplistic and childish, but it's also dangerously insidious. Because sometimes -- I would even argue oftentimes -- when people think they would be bad at something they are right.
One of the reasons that some victims stay with their abusers is because some abusers very candidly admit that they are doing bad things. When a victim has been raised from childhood to think along the process that Aslan outlines, this admission of guilt is processed along these guidelines: if James recognizes that he is a bad person doing bad things and unsuited for a relationship at this time, then James must be the opposite! The very fact that James recognizes these things about himself constitutes not only an apology, but an awareness of the problem! Since Knowing Is Half The Battle, James will make a conscious effort to fix his problems and then everything will be better!
Even outside of the confines of abuse, there is a common stereotype that women like to "change" the men they are dating, to turn them into something they aren't. In my experience, men are just as likely to try to change women, but leave that aside for a moment. Could it be that at least some of these hypothetical Looking For Change people aren't actually expecting a personal transformation so much as they are expecting that the outward self-assessments offered by Jack or Jenna in the early stages of a relationship actually belie their internal, and opposite, nature?
The "Different On The Inside" trope is so common that it's almost a fundamental archetype for fiction. Farmer boys are really brave and glorious heroes. Inexperienced children are really wise and capable rulers. Lowly stablehands are actually high-born princes. And so forth. I don't think there's anything wrong with this trope per se but there's something of a line crossed when we take Different On The Inside and extend that even further to You Are Not What You Think. A farmer girl who has always known deep down inside that she is capable of great feats of bravery is fine. A farmer girl who never suspected that she was capable of great feats of bravery but turns out to be so is fine. A farmer girl who assesses herself and decides that, no, she probably isn't capable of great feats of bravery but it turns out she totally is, is... problematic.
On the one hand, I see the good intent behind the trope. I recognize that there's an element there of "you are capable of things greater than you ever imagined". I can also see it as pushback against a patriarchal society, that even if society manages to convince you that you are not brave or wise or wonderful, being convinced doesn't make it true. I think the trope comes from a good place. But when it's overused -- or used badly, as it is here, where confidence is automatically a grounds for disqualification because people are binary like that -- then there's a very great danger that people may internalize that they are always wrong about themselves because self-assessments can never be trusted.
Aslan says "If you had felt yourself sufficient, it would have been a proof that you were not," [emphasis mine] but why? Caspian would be well within reason to assume that he will rule well: the evil and astonishingly incompetent Miraz handled the kingdom just fine, Caspian has dozens of loyal and intelligent advisers in his army, and oh yeah he's standing next to four people who were "just kids" when they took the crown of Narnia, and that ended up being the freaking "Golden Age" for the entire country. I'm not saying that Caspian must be confident -- that should really be left to the individual to decide and assess -- but that his confidence should in no way be an automatic assessment of unsuitability.
In the same vein, Caspian may be unconfident to rule because he isn't fit to rule. Sometimes people who self-assess themselves to be Bad At X really are bad at X. I'm bad with languages other than English. I'm bad at coding languages that aren't XML-based. I'm bad at telling time on analog clocks and at remembering right from left. When people try to argue -- as they sometimes do -- that I can't be as bad at those things as I think I am, that indeed my humility must mean I'm secretly good at them but just waiting to blossom, I usually try to politely shut them down. Thank you for your esteem, I say when I am feeling particularly eloquent, but I do believe I am competent to gauge my strengths and limitations.
It's probably naive of me to ask for nuance in the writing for a children's book, but it would have resonated with me much better if Lewis had made Aslan much less sure of himself, and much less emphatic about How The World Works. If Aslan had told Caspian that he believes Caspian will make a good ruler, and that humility and uncertainty are good traits in moderation because they will prevent him from being an autocratic dictator unwilling to listen to the advice of others, then I'd have little reaction to this section beyond a nod at the attempt at encouragement and advice. But Aslan's Word Of God from on high that self-assessments are always Opposite Day is just grating. Because the world doesn't work like that -- and people can and do get hurt when they buy-in to that sort of framing.
"Hail, Aslan!" came his shrill voice. "I have the honor -- " But then he suddenly stopped.
The fact was that [Reepicheep] still had no tail -- whether that Lucy had forgotten it or that her cordial, though it could heal wounds, could not make things grow again. Reepicheep became aware of his loss as made his bow; perhaps it altered something in his balance. [...]
"It becomes you very well, Small One," said Aslan.
"All the same," replied Reepicheep, "if anything could be done … Perhaps her Majesty?" and here he bowed to Lucy.
"But what do you want with a tail?" asked Aslan.
"Sir," said the Mouse, "I can eat and sleep and die for my King without one. But a tail is the honor and glory of a Mouse."
"I have sometimes wondered, friend," said Aslan, "whether you do not think too much about your honor."
Prince Caspian was published in 1951. I honestly don't know how much it was understood in 1951 that the majority of animal tails are not decorative, that they are vital for balance, for equilibrium, for (in some species) object manipulation, and for communication. Furthermore, I don't know how much of that information was available to C.S. Lewis who did not, of course, have access to Wikipedia. However, the text does note that Reepicheep's balance is affected, which... you think? Humans have balance issues if we lose a piddly little toe, let alone an entire limb.
Reepicheep is a warrior. He serves his kingdom with his sword, and presumably puts food on his table in the same way. He lives and fights in a world where he is the smallest and weakest among all the sentient species, where brute strength is simply not an option for him -- he has to have balance and equilibrium in order to survive. And probably not just in battle: how else is a Mouse going to survive in a world with literal Giants, if not by being quick and sure on his feet?
For the text to treat a genuine issue of disability as a silly question of vanity is frankly monstrous. And for Aslan to chastise this poor soul for thinking "too much" about his honor in a land where Peter the Magnificent (by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, High King over all Kings in Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands and Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Wearer of the Shiniest Armor, etc.) and Caspian the Tenth (King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Possessor of the Nicest Hair) are losing sleep over whether a paw-sucking Bear is too silly to be allowed on their football team is flabbergasting beyond all measure. Aslan finally shows up after 300+ years and the first person he dresses down for un-Christian behavior is an honest-to-god disabled Mouse.
On the other hand, since Narnia is meant to be a religious allegory, perhaps this is C.S. Lewis' explanation to the annoying problem of why amputees are never miraculously healed: Because god is amused and saddened by their obvious vanity at wanting to have fully functioning limbs.
"Why have your followers all drawn their swords, may I ask?" said Aslan.
"May it please your High Majesty," said the second Mouse, whose name was Peepiceek, "we are all waiting to cut off our own tails if our Chief must go without his. We will not bear the shame of wearing an honor which is denied to the High Mouse."
Tears. A torrent of tears.
This is the true face of the god of Narnia. When presented with a disabled person who He decides should stay disabled, Aslan doesn't offer to walk in the shoes of the disabled with them. It's not Aslan who is standing by to slice off his tail, to experience the humiliation and prejudice of living in an ableist world, or the trials and difficulties of living inside a disabled body. Aslan is amused and bored, and issues his judgement from the comfort of his able-bodied form. What's so rough about being disabled? he asks. Lots of people are, and you don't see them crying about it.
This isn't the reaction from Peepiceek, nor from the rest of the Mice. If someone they love must remain disabled, then they will join that person in hir disability. They stand up, before the gods and kings of Narnia, and flat-out state that sympathy is not enough. Sympathy is insufficient. Anything less than empathy -- and, for them, the only real empathy is that which comes from walking in the shoes of the disabled -- is worthless. It's a piercing show of support and love for Reepicheep, but it's also a devastating attack on Aslan and his followers.
"Ah!" roared Aslan. "You have conquered me. 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 (and it was then, though you have long forgotten it, that you began to be Talking Mice), you shall have your tail again."
Before Aslan had finished speaking the new tail was in its place. Then, at Aslan's command, Peter bestowed the Knighthood of the Order of the Lion on Caspian, and Caspian, as soon as he was knighted, himself bestowed it on Trufflehunter and Trumpkin and Reepicheep, and made Doctor Cornelius his Lord Chancellor, and confirmed the Bulgy Bear in his hereditary office of Marshal of the Lists. And there was great applause.
Just to be totally clear:
- Caring about a life-altering disability: Proud, vain, overly obsessed with false "honor".
- Caring about a bunch of meaningless titles after your name: Honorable and righteous.
I know there are people who think I'm too hard on Narnia, even people who think I bear some kind of grudge against C.S. Lewis. I don't have any such grudge. I'm not trying to ruin everyone's childhood. Every time I start these posts, my goal is to be kind and positive and thoughtful and upbeat.
But I didn't write this. The stuff above, it's not cut and edited to look bad. This scene literally went:
1. Caspian gets some titles.
2. Aslan tells a wounded Mouse that he cares too much for false "honor".
3. Caspian gets more titles.
No gaps. No segues. No scene changes.
I don't know what to make of this. I'd like to believe that somehow this was deliberate, that this interruption in the title-giving ceremony by the mouse that needs scolding is somehow meant to be a clever commentary on ... something. If I had to guess, I'd say that we weren't meant to agree with Aslan and the rest, that this whole scene was designed and set up to make Aslan -- and the silent and presumably-agreeing Caspian and Peter -- seem like people so comfortable in their privilege that they are carelessly exhibiting cruelty.
But if that's the case, if Aslan is supposed to be wrong here, then ... what does that say about the rest of the series? And what does that say about the Theologies? It's hard for me to imagine that this is supposed to be a deliberate allegory for how god cannot or will not relate to disabled people. I have to assume -- because I don't know how else to read it -- that I'm supposed to agree with Aslan, to view Reepicheep as (adorably!) vain and proud. Because he wanted to have the able-body that was taken from him in a battle for the freedom of Narnia, and asked for that body from people with the power and privilege to bestow it, and who are indebted to him for his service and sacrifice.
I don't know how to get on board with that view. I can't.
Note: We'll pick up the remainder of Chapter 15 next time.
54 comments:
IIRC in Le Morte d'Arthur, several people get knighted by other knights (not by kings). Lancelot knights Galahad for example, at Galahad's request because he, Lancelot, is such a good knight that he should be the one to do it. Narnian knighthood, for all that there's a specific Order of the Lion, could function more like this than like modern Britain, where there's central control.
It does seem that the intent here is to provide legitimacy for Caspian by way of continuity with the old ways. Otherwise, his claim to the throne is based only on him being human (granted) and the heir of Miraz (not overly legitimate himself by Narnian standards). But just what are those standards? Certainly Aslan's decree is definitive. And the maxim that "Once a King or Queen in Narnia, always a King or Queen" seems to be actually observed here, given Peter's authority (and probably Edmund's as an ambassador earlier). So I suppose that anyone who is a King or Queen has the same powers, saving that Peter is High King and a step above; the way he overruled Susan in a previous chapter suggests he has the last word. That would solve the problem of many simultaneous monarchs, as long as Peter is actually around, since he could resolve any disputes. In effect, he is the only real sovereign king and the others are viceroys. Then Narnian kingship is not a constitutional office that you hold so much as it's a title or rank that you have, with "legal" rights alongside, and it's not exclusive to a single person at a time - and nobody but a King or Queen gets to exercise authority over all Narnians. Hence Caspian, despite being the rightful Telmarine heir, has to additionally succeed to the title of King of Narnia. He has no claim under Narnian custom and so he must be expressly granted the role by Peter and Aslan.
I wonder whether Cornelius's position of Lord Chancellor pertains "ex officio" to the whole of Narnia, or if it's only defined in relation to Caspian's court and household (and indirectly for the whole country insofar as he will shortly be the only king around). It fits my conception of Narnian government that it's not really a unitary state, but a collection of overlapping territories and jurisdictions, having various degrees of independence and owing certain mutual obligations, where there's a human overlord but no civil service or state apparatus aside from whatever is part of his personal retinue. All titles are derived from the crown and there are no permanent institutions. So the Pevensies' government dissolves after they disappear, leaving behind no national archives or library, no law courts, no Parliament... Cair Paravel seems to have been quickly abandoned (little evidence of post-Pevensie changes to the fabric, nothing added or taken away from the treasure vault). This matches the pattern that nationwide authority belongs only to the Kings or Queens in Narnia.
I think Lewis is thinking of 'knight' as a member of an order who have particular commitments to specific chivalric virtues or quests, rather than as a person of specific status in a political set-up.
That basically is the same thing. Knights are in orders which (under the sovereign) have specific purposes. The sovereign has created a position and then filled it. The only difference to other forms of nobility is that there are several (often a set number of) knights in an order and, for example, only only duke. Knight:Their Order::Duke:Their duchy.
Orders used to have specific duties, but knights generally have no duties anymore, and so orders eventually ended up being generally known for specific virtues, like you said. But it's all based on the premise of it being a rank...an order is just which battalion you are placed into, in a sense.
Actually, putting Caspian into an order just makes it even weirder. Orders often have people in charge between the knights and the sovereign. The Order of St Michael and St George, for example, has a 'Grand Master' who is in charge under the sovereign.
If Capsian had been bestowed leadership of the Order of the Lion, thus also incidentally giving him a knighthood, that would make some sense. And sometimes the sovereign is the only head, like in the Order of the Garter, which instead of a 'Grand Master' just has English Sovereign as head, who is called 'The Sovereign of the Garter'. So that would work.
But just putting him _in_ the Order is just odd. And sovereigns are not knighted into an Order anyway, as they already hold a higher rank than knight. They are, if anything, _crowned_ into the Order, when they are normally crowned.
This entire situation actually makes sense to the point of his knighting. It is possible that Caspian is not actually king yet, as he has not been crowned. So perhaps he's being inducted in as a member now by the current king (Peter), and later will become head when he becomes king.
Sadly for that theory, Caspian then _turns around and knights other people_, which is something only the king (Or, at least, _a_ king....I dunno how this 'high king' and low king' works. Is Caspian the same rank as Edmund?) can do.
Knights are in orders which (under the sovereign) have specific purposes. The sovereign has created a position and then filled it.
In that case, we can stop worrying about Caspian being in service to himself and having to swear allegiance to himself, because he's had no time to go creating chivalric orders, so the sovereign who created this Order must be someone else.
The thought that High King Peter is the sovereign in question is a good one, and fits with it being Peter who does the knighting in the first instance. And what makes a High King high if not that he has other kings in his service?
But there's another sovereign it might be, about whom there can be no question that all other kings are his servants and must swear allegiance to him. Notice that it's not Peter's own idea to start bestowing the Order of the Lion on people; he does it at - not even the suggestion, but the command, of someone else: the Lion himself.
Regarding knighting: Peter is High King, after all, Higher than any other kings. Therefore it is logical that the next chain of legitimate rulers should get Peter's blessing, which was part of knighting: would-be knight says: "I will serve the land well" and the one knighting asseses: "I believe you will, here is my blessing".
The willful ignorance of theneed for tail is baffling though, as is Aslan's insistence that people confident in their abilities cannot be rulers - I understand why people with too much desire to rule are bad, but this has nothing to do with confidence.
Oh, and Tolkien has no jokes about being short, because he repeatedly makes the point that picking on small is bad: many of the baddies (Witch King, or the ruffians, for example) ignored and belittled the hobbits -and paid dearly for that.
My memories of The Time Warp Trio book where they went back in time to Ancient Egypt are fuzzy in the extreme, but I remember our heroes, once safely home, concluding that the destruction of her images must have been carried out by the villain-of-the-book. So that's presumably a positive portrayal.
If you have ever seen a little cat loving a big dog whom it knows and trusts, you will have a pretty good picture of their behavior.
Is it me, or is this a little uncomfortable? I mean, yes, they are Animals, but they're sapient beings, and none of the humanoid Aslan-worshippers are ever depersonalised* like this when around him. Maybe I'm reading too much into Animals interacting as their bodies require**, but there is a certain tension between the logical and the unfortunate implications here.
And of course the Dwarfs, who look human(ish) but aren't, are insufficiently loving of their arbitrary god-king. Lewis is nothing if not consistent here. (And why is it always the Dwarves rather than the dryads, gods, and stars that share Susan's role as designated Not Good Enough?)
and Emperor of the Lone Islands.
So who conquered them? The Pevensies? Jadis? Frank and Helen's dynasty? Who was living there in the first place to be conquered?
"It becomes you very well, Small One," said Aslan.
Fuck. Off. You. Condescending. Shit.
Hey, Aslan! Remember who took the trouble to regrow his hair when it was cut off? You do? Awesome!
You know, all we see Tash do is eat people who syncretise him with Aslan. I cannot entirely bring myself to disapprove of this. Tash deserves an army of elite swashbuckling Mice.
Re the knighthood: maybe the Order of the Lion is a special Aslan-based chivalric order independent of temporal sovereignty?
*Desapientised? We need a better word than "dehumanised" here.
**But they can still totally wield swords and sew and cook and write notifications of arrest and stuff!
ETA: Oh, and it appears I have thoughts about Caspian's "I'm not worthy" proclamation. Pel has a lovely line in Tiassa which goes: "I have had ambition, Khaavren, as you well know. But I have found that, having gratified it, my goal must now be to prove myself worthy of the position to which my ambition led me." That, IMO, is the reaction of a responsible person, not "oh, I'm not good enough, but I'm not going to ask you to pick someone else despite that being the logical next step." More things need socially-responsible Yendi, just in general.
It's been a long, LONG time since I read it, but I'm pretty sure "The Golden Goblet" is about the protagonist warning the existing pharaoh (whom I believe is a girl, but cannot remember) that hir father's tomb is about to be burgled by grave robbers. Pretty sure there's no rebellion in it, and Wikipedia seems to bear that out?
Ana, I'm sure you're right. There's some other thing with Hatshepsut's overthrow...I think. Cannot remember right now. Maybe she's the good guy in GG, and I misremember the whole thing.
Which, when I read it a bazillion years ago, I thought it was the coolest book ever. When I re-read it much later, I realized it was a wicked, sexist slander on the Pharaoh Hatshepsut, who seems to have been a pretty decent ruler as ancient autocrats go. But, if you can ignore the historical inaccuracies and the heroine's improbably blue eyes, it's still a fun read.
Hatshepsut fares poorly in YA books for some reason. There's another commonly assigned middle school book which IIRC is pretty much the same thing--unfortunate young person is swept up in plotting to get Thutmose on the throne. "The Golden Goblet"? She has done better in more recent work.
I don't know if the blue eyes are totally improbable. You see them all the time just up the coast--lot of folks in Lebanon and Syria, say, with light eyes. Elsewhere in North Africa, you get the Berbers, some of whom are very fair, and run to light eyes. All you need is two recessives and you're in business. I think there is some emphasis on her being ethnic Egyptian, so less probable.
There is a thing, though, with many writers, of giving generally female protagonists from generally dark-eyed communities or ethnicities pale eyes or red hair to mark them as special, something I don't much care for. Sometimes it seems entirely inappropriate. "Memoirs of A Geisha"? Somehow, I don't think men raised in nationalistic early twentieth century Japan are going to find pale eyes especially incredibly alluring, especially men who are patronizing a traditional geisha. Never made sense why her gray eyes were such a big deal. Seems as though it would just make her seem foreign, or worse, Ainu.
Cleopatra was a Ptolemy, and they were of Greek origin, right? So the blue eyes would have been possible, I guess.
As for Mara, her book is set in a much earlier era. She was a slave, and I don't remember that the blue eyes were ever explained, just that everybody was always remarking on them. But genes are chancy, and you never know where some wandering ancestor might have passed through a place where nobody would have expected him.
Macedonians. Descended from the brother of Alexander the Great (who appears, from his usual portraits to have been blond). So entirely possible, there.
On "You Are Not What You Think" and "Different on the Inside"...
There weren't words for it back in the day, but Aslan might have just been testing for the Dunning-Kruger effect. The term didn't exist in Lewis' time, but he might have recalled Bertrand Russel ("One of the painful things about our time is that those who feel certainty are stupid, and those with any imagination and understanding are filled with doubt and indecision") or even Billy S. ("The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.")
"Do you feel yourself sufficient to take up the Kingship of Narnia?" isn't a trick question, because he's not asking about Caspian's abilities, but his feelings. It's hair-splitting, perhaps, but I think Caspian could have just as well answered "I have been trained since birth to assume the throne, but now that the moment has arrived, I am fearful that I will not live up to the legacy of the great kinds, or worse, I shall continue the legacy of lesser ones."
When we see this trope, I don't think it's meant to be a trick question as much as an attempt to distinguish between being able to do a thing, being willing to do a thing, and being eager to do a thing.
Quoting David Cheatham: "Someone here appears confused. Did Peter just knight a king? Knights _work for the king_. "
I think Lewis is thinking of 'knight' as a member of an order who have particular commitments to specific chivalric virtues or quests, rather than as a person of specific status in a political set-up. I imagine that a Knight of the Order of the Table would have a slightly different emphasis on which virtue they were pursuing than a Knight of the Order of the Lion, etc.
(I am fairly newly arrived at this blog -- thank you very much, Ana Mardoll! I've been enjoying reading it very much indeed.)
"Someone here appears confused. Did Peter just knight a king? Knights _work for the king_. Caspian is going to have to swear allegiance to himself!"
In many European societies, you have to be a knight to be a king. Just like to be Pope, you must first become a deacon, a priest, and a bishop, in that order. There were several occasions where a member of the laity was elected Pope and had to be elevated through the ranks posthaste so he could take the office.
That's quite possibly the line of thought, all right, but there's two problems with it. One, a tail can't really be compared to, say, hair - which grows back just fine on it's own, making the loss of a ponytail very temporary, and two, the narrative acknowledges that the loss of his tail affected his balance. Why throw that in there at all if we're supposed to view tails as cosmetic?
Actually, even if we are supposed to view tails as cosmetic, why should we dismiss a Mouse wanting their tail - their cosmetic vanity - in the middle of a scene bestowing a bunch of cosmetic vanities (titles) on Caspian? And what about all that crap about honor back in the chapter with the duel?
Bah. There's no way around this being another instance of an author lacking writing comprehension.
But Caspian NEEDS a bunch of titles! How else can Aslan wrap him in a twelve-foot-thick blanket of privilege with just words?
There is a Pagan parable about initiation, written by Blacksun, in which the students are asked whether they are ready to be initiated. One student answers "Yes" immediately. Others think for a while and also answer "Yes." (We are not, if I recall correctly, shown anyone who answers "No.")
The teachers then dismiss the student who answered immediately, on the grounds that she did not think it through and was showing some undesirable trait by so doing.
I have never, in all the times I've encountered that parable, gotten any use out of it--I've been involved in at least two rituals that used elements from later on, but they are wasted on me. My heart is, and remains, with the one woman. Someday I will find a way to write a story about her. I like to think that if I'd been there, I'd have walked out with her. (The truth is I very likely would *be* her. By the time I am a candidate for initiation I should not need to sit and think about my readiness--and would expect the teachers to read that as self-doubt and throw me out for it, if they were the throwing-out sorts.)
It may be slightly less pernicious with Aslan as presumably Aslan doesn't learn or grow, and doesn't err. But when it's a human teacher pulling this kind of stunt, I believe it to be wicked in all cases. Telling teachers that they should do this corrupts teachers, because really they can't do it right. Telling students that they should accept this damaging students, making them more likely to be victimized by teacher power-tripping. It's just wrong, all around, and I wish Blacksun had left it out.
This Narnia passage reminds me of that parable, a lot.
One of the things I loved about Lord of the Rings, that I didn't know I loved until I saw the Peter Jackson movies from which the thing I loved was notably absent:
You could read your way all through all six books of LotR and never come to the conclusion that there's something intrinsically funny / inferior about being short.
Peter Jackson had to specially invent "dwarf jokes" and "short jokes" for the script, since the book doesn't provide them.
Cam you imagine this scene in Book 5 of LotR if C.S.Lewis had written it?
'Greetings!' said the lad. 'Where do you come from? You are a stranger in the City.'
'I was,' said Pippin; 'but they say I have become a man of Gondor.'
'Oh come!' said the lad. 'Then we are all men here. But how old are you, and what is your name? I am ten years already, and shall soon be five feet. I am taller than you. But then my father is a Guard, one of the tallest. What is your father?'
'Which question shall I answer first?' said Pippin. 'My father farms the lands round Whitwell near Tuckborough in the Shire. I am nearly twenty-nine, so I pass you there; though I am but four feet, and not likely to grow any more, save sideways.'
'Twenty-nine!' said the lad and whistled. 'Why, you are quite old! As old as my uncle Iorlas. Still,' he added hopefully, 'I wager I could stand you on your head or lay you on your back.'
'Maybe you could, if I let you,' said Pippin with a laugh. 'And maybe I could do the same to you: we know some wrestling tricks in my little country. Where, let me tell you, I am considered uncommonly large and strong; and I have never allowed anyone to stand me on my head. So if it came to a trial and nothing else would serve, I might have to kill you. For when you are older, you will learn that folk are not always what they seem; and though you may have taken me for a soft stranger-lad and easy prey, let me warn you: I am not, I am a halfling, hard, bold, and wicked!' Pippin pulled such a grim face that the boy stepped back a pace, but at once he returned with clenched fists and the light of battle in his eye.
'No!' Pippin laughed. 'Don't believe what strangers say of themselves either! I am not a fighter. But it would be politer in any case for the challenger to say who he is.'
I don't like to think how Peter or Edmund would come across to Merry or Pippin.
Cleopatra's family (the Ptolemys) were conquerors. They originally came from Greece.
Then, at Aslan's command, Peter bestowed the Knighthood of the Order of the Lion on Caspian, and Caspian, as soon as he was knighted, himself bestowed it on Trufflehunter and Trumpkin and Reepicheep, and made Doctor Cornelius his Lord Chancellor, and confirmed the Bulgy Bear in his hereditary office of Marshal of the Lists.
Someone here appears confused. Did Peter just knight a king? Knights _work for the king_. Caspian is going to have to swear allegiance to himself!
Granted, perhaps these are honorary knighthoods. Perhaps 'knight' in Narnia is more like how England is now, where it's basically just a medal of honor, instead of the way it originally was, the lowest title of nobility. So in theory such knighthood could be bestow on a king...to give him a honor much less than what he has.
I think someone got confused with the whole 'Oh, the hero gets knighted at the end of the story' and failed to notice this does not really make sense in the context of the hero just _being made king_.
I'm now imagining this exchange:
Aslan: Caspian, you are good enough to be king.
Peter: Not just a king! He's good enough to be a knight!
Caspian: By 'knight', do you mean an honorary title well below my _actual_ title of king, or do you think I should become a warrior sworn to fight for the king, which is also me?
Peter: Errr....
Maybe make it 'desiring power over others'?
It's all in Plato, all in Plato! Or at least, the part about a desire for power proving unfitness for power. In fact, Plato argued that the only people who should ever be put in charge are those so reluctant that they have to be conscripted for the job. (This was presumably also Rowling's source for what Afterlife!Dumbledore tells Harry about his own unfitness for power.)
I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with desiring power. Some people desire the power to live independently. Some people desire the power to fight back against a corrupt system.
Some people desire the power to control the lives of other people, so the power that is being desired can be something unhealthy. But simply a desire for power shouldn't be an issue.
Personally, I desire the power to affordably manage the amount of crap that gets put into my food. I don't think that wanting that power suddenly makes me unfit to manage it.
I take a little bit of exception to your grumble about Caspian's fitness-or-lack-thereof. As quoted here, Aslan never says that Caspian will for sure be a great ruler; he just says that he's passed that one test. He doesn't say "Ah, you don't think you will be a good ruler, so you will!", he says, "Ah, you answered correctly; if you answered incorrectly you would be a poor ruler."
Incidentally, I always took as a test of honesty/humility/absence of a greed for power - where it's not so much about what Caspian actually thinks, but what he says he thinks. Though I guess Aslan's You-Cannot-Lie mind-whammy aura would pretty heavily bias that test.
I've come increasingly to the conclusion that people's Gods are a reflection of them.
Lewis's God is a bit of an asshole.
But most of all, I love that Peter -- white Peter, human Peter, English Peter, Magnificent Peter -- FORCES his way through the crowd of Narnian natives who are touching their king and god for the first time in 300+ years rather than wait his turn for a few measly minutes.
In fairness to Peter, Aslan is both god and the ultimate king of Narnia, and absolutely essential for certain administrative duties. And Aslan has a bad habit of showing up at work for a couple of days and then disappearing for centuries. And spend much of that time partying with the girls.
Peter, as High King, is Aslan's second-in-command. And while he's got Aslan here Peter is going to pin him down and get the necessary paperwork signed.
I mean....the way to make the scene make sense is to read it literally, I guess. If that's the right word. In the context of the scene, a lost tail ISN'T a crippling disability. Sure it would be in the real world. And sure you're right to point that out. And in the real world, or a more realistic world of talking mice, everything you said and all your confusion would make sense.
But the book then goes on to treat it as though it IS just a matter of pride, because the book has set it up so that that's true - losing a tail is like losing a ponytail. I would be vain and prideful to some extent if I got through a battle and took the time to ask God to re-grow the hair that was cut off. I wouldn't be WRONG, but it wouldn't be wrong of god either to tell me to focus on more important things.
I'm not trying to be dismissive, you asked how to make sense of it, and to me, this makes logical, internal sense. It's a fairy tale, and one of the ways that it's different from reality is that mouse tails aren't vital.
TW: flogging
I'm minded, for some reason, of a YA novel set in ancient Egypt that I read a bazillion years ago. The protagonist is flogged in an attempt to get her to give up the rebels who are trying to put the deposed prince back on the throne--everyone follow that?
Anyway, when he becomes pharaoh, he gives her a bunch of stuff, land and the like, and tells her never to cover her shoulders again, because the scars speak to her courage. (Egyptian costume allows for this sort of thing. It would be harder in, say, fourteenth century France.)
I could sort of get it if Aslan felt that losing a tail in battle was its own sign of valor, but as has been pointed out, a Mouse needs a Tail, and Aslan's in a position to give it back. A person can live pretty well with whip scars, if there isn't nerve damage or the like, and also, there's jack the young pharaoh can actually do except praise her and give her other stuff, and they both get that. It's different with a. a needed body part and b. a ruler who has limb regrowth in his power.
But I didn't write this. The stuff above, it's not cut and edited to look bad. This scene literally went:
1. Caspian gets some titles.
2. Aslan tells a wounded Mouse that he cares too much for false "honor".
3. Caspian gets more titles.
No gaps. No segues. No scene changes.
My first thought was that this was yet another example of Lewis's "human character matter much more than Animal ones" attitude, except Caspian's not the only one getting a bunch of titles at the end of this scene - Trufflehunter and Reepicheep and the Bulgy Bear are too.
(Reads what I've just written)
Huh. Reepicheep gets a title right after being rebuked for caring too much about his "honour". Maybe, given that the titles are all bestowed at Aslan's command - whereas Aslan had nothing to do with the tail - the message is meant to be "take pride only in God's gifts"?
Also, it allows the wonderful solidarity and community pride between the Talking Mice to be seen; it's faintly faintly an "I am Spartacus" moment.
I'm not sure this is entirely fair. It's Reepicheep, not Aslan, who makes the connection between honour and tails. Aslan quizzes him on it and he stands up to him -- mice need their honour because otherwise they might get picked on for their small size. Then the other mice also stand up to him, and he concedes the point.
(My name is Daniel Copeland. I tried to sign in with my Google identity but something has gone wrong.)
So who conquered them? The Pevensies? Jadis? Frank and Helen's dynasty? Who was living there in the first place to be conquered?
According to The Last Battle, King Gale of Narnia slew a dragon in the Lone Islands, and in gratitude they took him as their Emperor.
I loved "Mara, Daughter of the Nile" so much I still have my copy, even though I haven't re-read it in years. It was one of the books I took with me during my family's year in the UK (I had to choose only my very favorites, since it all had to go into suitcases.)
I'd totally forgotten her blue eyes, but as soon as I saw "TW: Flogging" and "there was a YA..." I thought, "oooh, MARA!!!"
Was she royalty? I've read that some historians think that Cleopatra had blue eyes. I can't remember why, but something about the royal family's lineage.
Maybe, given that the titles are all bestowed at Aslan's command - whereas Aslan had nothing to do with the tail - the message is meant to be "take pride only in God's gifts"?
But Aslan sang all the species of Narnia into existence* - all of their attributes were bestowed directly by him.
*With the possible exception of the Evil creatures who were suspiciously absent at the creation, but we'll never find out how they got there.
Existence is not the same gift as honor. I believe the point was supposed to be that Reepicheep calling his tail an honor was putting too much importance on an ordinary thing.
I don't know what to make of this. I'd like to believe that somehow this was deliberate, that this interruption in the title-giving ceremony by the mouse that needs scolding is somehow meant to be a clever commentary on ... something.
I think what Lewis was going for was a commentary on pride, which just got a bit skewed due to a lack of knowledge of mouse biology and a failure to realize that earlier concerns about things like the Bulgy Bear looking silly with his paw in his mouth were just as prideful as the things Aslan called out.
When Aslan asks Caspian whether he feels himself sufficient, it could be read more as a test of pride than a suggestion that self-assessments are always wrong. If Caspian thought himself equal to the task of ruling a country in spite of his age and lack of experience, Aslan would have considered him to be prideful, and therefore unlikely to be a good ruler.
Likewise, when Aslan asks Reepicheep why he needs a tail, Reepicheep denies having any legitimate need for it (which implies that either Talking Mouse tails really are decorative or Reepicheep is too prideful to admit to having been disabled). Whether Reepicheep needs the tail or not, his request was driven by pride; if Reepicheep had said, "I am a Mouse and a Warrior, and I would better be able to serve Narnia with a tail than without," Aslan probably would have given it back with a comment about his dedication to Narnia.
These two interruptions, then, could be read as a counterpoint to the bestowing of titles -- honor is bestowed on those who don't believe it to be owed to them, whereas seeking honor demonstrates pride and therefore shows one to be undeserving.
Of course, intent isn't magic (and Lewis isn't great about recognizing pride in his main protagonists), but I do think there might have been a point to the structure of the excerpt.
FWIW, I started reading DAWN TREADER and Reepicheep uses his tail extensively as a sailor; it gives him the balance he needs in order to move about the ship. So I'm glad that it was restored, what with it being a major plot point that sailing to the end of the world is his DeStInY.
It seems to me that asking about readiness for initiation should/could* be somewhat like asking about readiness to be married: by the time the question is appropriate, you've probably already spent a lot of time thinking on the subject and making up your mind. So that story makes me sad.
* I don't like the use of the word "should" here, but I don't know how to fix it. I'll say that many people have surprise marriage proposals and go on to have long and happy marriages, so I'm not disparaging that. Just that they aren't for me, personally.
a YA novel set in ancient Egypt that I read a bazillion years ago.
"Mara, Daughter of the Nile"?
Which, when I read it a bazillion years ago, I thought it was the coolest book ever. When I re-read it much later, I realized it was a wicked, sexist slander on the Pharaoh Hatshepsut, who seems to have been a pretty decent ruler as ancient autocrats go. But, if you can ignore the historical inaccuracies and the heroine's improbably blue eyes, it's still a fun read.
Aslan and the Mice reminded me of that Talmudic story about Rabbi Eliezar arguing a point of law with a group of other rabbis. And he kept invoking miracles and signs to demonstrate that God was on his side, but with each miracle the rabbis would shake their heads and say, "That is not an argument." And finally a Voice spoke from Heaven in unconditional support of Eliezar, but the rabbis were still unconvinced-- a Heavenly Voice isn't an Argument, either. And then, supposedly, God laughs and says, "My children have defeated me."
In the Talmudic tradition, if I understand correctly, God isn't found in signs and wonders. No, "God is in the argument."
Of course, Aslan isn't exactly being convinced by logic here, but at least he can be convinced.
Thank you.
The thing with the mice kind of makes me think of Chinese or Japanese warriors who value their ponytails/topknots, and view them being cut away as a mark of significant disgrace.
The idea that the other mice would offer to cut away their own tails rather than shun the disgraced warrior is a good mark in their favour in my book, even if the value of the tail is purely cultural (which I think is a bit different from being merely vain).
Come to think of it, even in the context of the scene that might mark the lack of a tail as not a disability, I'd say it's a bit more akin to a Sikh warrior who had his hair cut away as he fought for his God, and that God then dismissing his desire to have his hair returned.
Heh.
I once had a discussion regarding the RPG Exalted, concerning one character who is a potential candidate for world-ruling emperor, but who explicitly doesn't want the position.
Somebody else suggested that that quality itself made him appropriate for it.
I suggested that it's more likely to mean that he spends most of his tenure looking for a decent replacement, and then abdicating so he can get back to his own affairs.
This is very nearly the point I wanted to make here. I, too, read Aslan as making a point about pride, and if Reepicheep had answered differently then there would have been no delay.
For my part, I've somehow always been under the impression that Aslan never had any intention of refusing Reepicheep's request, but that Aslan wanted to make him pause to reflect on his motives. It doesn't look like I have any textual basis for that inference, maybe I'm conflating the book with an adaptation or my own religious education.
I think, however, the true key to this passage is a common phrase in Christian prayers. I know it via the Catholic mass as "all glory and honor is yours, Almighty Father." I believe the point C.S. Lewis was ultimately getting at was that honor comes via Aslan and Aslan alone -- Aslan knighted Peter, and Peter knighted Caspian, so this is all properly consecrated honor bestowed by God.
Reepicheep's tail is, to begin with, merely a vanity, and therefore false honor. By restoring it, Aslan actually bestows the honor that Reepicheep had believed was connected to his tail. I read Aslan's speech about his reasons to mean that he doesn't do it to repair Reepicheep's ego, but because his entire race had earned it.
Now I kind of want to start a tangent discussion about Mice as Noble Savages.
The thought that High King Peter is the sovereign in question is a good one, and fits with it being Peter who does the knighting in the first instance. And what makes a High King high if not that he has other kings in his service?
Yes, that works fine to answer the question of how Caspian can join the order. Perhaps the Order of the Lion swears allegiance to the High King, or even to Aslan.
But that just raises the question about how Caspian can knight anyone! He can knight people into an order he _doesn't_ head?
By squinting and looking at any individual question, we can come up with a way it could work, but there's a gestalt problem with the entire premise. A sovereign only belongs in a chivalric order at the top...that's the entire premise of _being_ a sovereign.(1) And only a sovereign can put people in and out of an order, which they themselves head.
We can come up with a way that Caspian could join an order as a knight, and we can come up with a way he can knight people...but not really both at the same time. There's not any circumstances I can think of where someone can join an order as a knight and then start knighting people themselves.
1) This is not strictly true...there are some chivalric orders that have sovereign of _other nations_ in them. (2) This is not really the circumstances here, and those sovereigns can't run around knighting people into those orders anyway. Because, and this is the key, they are _knights_ of the order, and hence not in charge of it, so can't put people in it.
2) I find this very odd, and it seems a conflict of interest...but I'm looking at that as an American, where we don't let any government official take a title of nobility without permission. So I just assumed that was obviously a conflict of interest, and other countries would have the same issue, but perhaps that's just the American POV.
Also note that Willow's mother also falls into "ignore, then oppress" pattern (even though in her case the"oppress" is magically driven : she never interests herself in what Willow does and then in this episode she uses Willow's magical exercises as a pretext for burning.
Personally, I always saw lack of consequences for Joyce simply as realism: abusive parents are rarely punished especially if the abuse is subtle (as in not beating / molestation kind). The point is precisely that just like in real life people usually get away with parental abuse and Nice Guyism, in "Buffy" superpowers don't help against such kind of evil - whereas more direct evils (represented by supernatural) are routinely dealt with in the classical "kill the baddies" way. So lack of consequences is a proof that not all evil can be vanquished with such direct approach, not a proof the charachter is OK. As for Xander, he does enough to compensate for his boner mentality. There is no sign in the show that this mentality is good, and later there will be repercussions.
Ooh, that's nasty...
But somewhat depressing, since it leaves the cosmology with no significant opposition to Aslan left. (On the other hand, who's churning out those Northern witches that Jadis and the Lady of the Green Kirtle were examples of?)
I don't know, but it makes me even more likely to go with Team Jadis. Choose the lesser evil!
I see no decisive reason to regard Tash and Aslan as different people. We know Aslan can appear to change shape. We know he eats people (and cities, and I think nations according to what he tells Jill). As Thomas points out, we know the Animals who hate and fear him on sight suffer the same loss that Ginger does upon seeing and running from "Tash". We know Aslan comes from a world that affects people's minds in other ways -- and the people who report seeing "Tash" attack Ginger are in a new branch of that world at the time. (The one previous time Narnians thought they saw Tash, he looked translucent like smoke.)
Finally, we know the one true worshiper of Tash meets and loves "Aslan", who feeds him some daft story about it being impossible to worship anyone but the Lion. (I'd say, "this will come as quite a shock to devout clerics of Lloth," but on reflection Aslan may have the Chaos, Destruction, and Trickery domains.) At least, members of the cult of Aslan believe they hear the guy telling this story. And he seems so sincere!
Oops wrong thread,sorry... ;(
TW for bodymorphing/literal messing with the mind
Tash also turns a sentient being into an ordinary animal. Ginger the Cat.
True, I forgot that. Mind you, Aslan seems to do the same thing on a much larger scale at the apocalypse, so...
With the possible exception of the Evil creatures who were suspiciously absent at the creation, but we'll never find out how they got there.
Haven't we established that Narnia is like a temporary stomach or gizzard for the carnivorous Emperor-world? The Emperor just swept up a bunch of people from other realities (like Jadis) and labelled them enemies (like Jadis) so that they'd defy Aslan the Blood Cell to eat them (like Jadis).
And beyond that, when does Aslan ever believe himself insufficient?
Well, he claims to have known that if "a willing victim who had committed no treachery" died in place of Edmund then the Table would crack etc. But in the previous chapter he seems depressed. So amusingly enough, I think it really makes the most sense if Aslan didn't know whether his evil deeds counted as "treachery" by the Emperor's [cruel] rules.
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