I am Aslan

Above: Aslan in a 1960s style. Below: Narnia logo in Arabic script, by mohammedanis-dacttw1.

 

The Lady of the Green Kirtle (Part I)

 

The Lady of the Green Kirtle and her mandolin

thrum – thrum – thrum – thrum

The Lady of the Green Kirtle, sometimes known simply as the Lady, is the second major villain of the Chronicles of Narnia. She plays a star role in The Silver Chair, where she is responsible for killing Caspian’s wife and abducting his teenage son Rilian, using him in her plans for conquest. As I said here, she never got a proper name. I’ll call her the Green Witch for the purposes of this article.

In her illustrations for the book (one of which is pictured above) Pauline Baynes depicts her as anodyne, her expression sickly-sweet. That was part of the witch’s power, of course, to appear saccharine and harmless. She wears a long flowing Medieval gown, bright green in color, with wide scalloped sleeves. Plant sprigs surround her and adorn her hair; but they, and the green color, do not represent spring and new growth but poison and malice. Perhaps the plant sprigs are  mistletoe, used as a poison by the druids. Whatever the plant is, it’s an invention of Baynes and not in the text.

Like Jadis, the Green Witch uses magic; but where Jadis is/was a Mage-Queen, the Green Witch is an Enchantress. She’s more overtly sexual than Jadis (even as Lewis did not get explicit about it) and uses her powers of physical attractiveness, beguilement, and disingenuousness to pursue her goals. As Jadis was based  on the fairy tale character of the Snow Queen, the Green Witch is the La Belle Dame sans Merci, an alluring, magical maiden who causes chaos by toying with a knight’s affections, bringing him to self-destruction.

La Belle Dame sans Merci, by Frank Dicksee

This deadly lady was a popular subject for pre-Raphaelite painters, such as Frank Dicksee, who painted the above. I’ve always loved this picture. It’s so trite and silly, yet erotic, the way the woman, sitting sidesaddle on the knight’s charger, leans down to sweep the knight with her mane of long red hair, and he glances up, startled, the two round chest protectors by his armpits looking like aroused nipples. He’s flushed with excitement, while she is cool as ice.

The Kiss of the Enchantress by Isobel Lilian Gloag

This picture shows another alluring enchantress from the same era as she transforms into a serpent. As the knight succumbs to her kiss she begins to wrap her tail around his leg,  trapping him, and reaches for his hand with a long, pale arm. But he fists it tightly, showing the viewer his resistance to the spell. This encounter could go either way, with him either being seduced, or breaking free.

The artist, Isobel Lilian Gloag, was one of the rare female pre-Raphaelites and I think this gives her watercolor more nuance. The witch’s desire here seems equal to the knight’s, but it may also kill him, by those coiled, thorny branches that sprout up by her tail, and I wonder if Lewis had seen this image somewhere and based the Green Witch on it.

Baynes’ illustration of the witch’s transformation is, interestingly, more into water creature than snake, going by the creature’s fins. She looks rather like an oarfish. Her tiny, narrowed eyes convey hate, and Lewis reveals some old fashioned courtliness in that it’s remarked by Rilian that it was easier to kill her in snake form than a human one. And by kill I mean kill: her head is hacked off and gore spews everywhere.

Illustration by Pauline Baynes

… the Prince’s own blow and Puddleglum’s [blow both fell] on its neck. Even that did not quite kill it, though it began to loosen its hold on Rilian’s legs and chest. With repeated blows they hacked off its head. The horrible thing went on coiling and moving like a bit of wire long after it had died; and the floor, as you may imagine, was a nasty mess.

Ye Gods, even Jadis’s death happened off-screen.

Yet the reader can’t help cheering the butchery because the character was so vile. So vile that at the end even her gender and sentience are erased by Lewis’s use of it and thing. Even Rilian comments  “… I am glad, gentlemen, that the foul Witch took to her serpent form at the last. It would not have suited well either with my heart or with my honour to have slain a woman.” (When I re-read this passage, I was also struck how Jill, but not Eustace, becomes sick to her stomach at the gore; in her next appearance in Narnia, in The Last Battle, the same thing happens when she sees Tash floating through the trees.)

Other artists have taken on the witch’s transformation and attack but most of the covers look ridiculous.

Honestly, how menacing is a giant snake with ribbons in its hair? (Yes, I know snakes don’t have hair.)

Illustration for the cover of The Silver Chair, by Leo and Diane Dillon

This version by artists Leo and Diane Dillon does it better, showing the witch in mid-change.  The Dillons also did this depiction of the White Witch as well as cover illustrations for the other five books of the series.

(Personally, I imagine the serpent looking more realistic, like this one, a Green White-lipped pit viper.)

The witch’s best scene, of course, comes before she is snaked, after Rilian, having been freed from the chair by Puddleglum and the kids, confronts her before the fireplace. She shows no anger, just throws a green powder into the flames and begins to casually strum on a mandolin while questioning the reality of her captives’ world. She doesn’t wale on them like Jadis would, through a whip or with brute strength, but with guile and subtlety. The passage ranks among the finest philosophical writing of all the series. When Puddleglum steps on the burning fire and extinguishes the smoke, saying his piece, the witch loses her cool and, in fury, becomes the serpent.

In this illustration the witch wields her mandolin like a weapon. Her hair is straight, not curled as in the text. She also looks pregnant, which frankly wouldn’t be beyond her machinations in a more adult story.

But the Green Witch is not overtly seductive. When Jill, Eustace, and Puddleglum encounter her on the road with the disguised Prince Rilian, she’s all charm and smiles, designed to make both genders feel at ease. The only warning sign  is that she’s too charming for that rugged and foreboding place, as Puddleglum realizes:  “Anyone you meet in a place like this is as likely as not to be an enemy, but we mustn’t let them think we’re afraid. […] Begging your pardon, Ma’am. But we don’t know you or your friend—a silent chap, isn’t he?—and you don’t know us. And we’d as soon not talk to strangers about our business, if you don’t mind.”

The witch agrees, insults him subtly, and lets it roll off her back with a tinkling laugh. She guesses at it anyway, recommending they stop at the House of Harfang for a long rest with the Gentle Giants, thus sowing the seeds of dissension among them.

In fact, if The Horse and His Boy was about the Christian sin of Pride, which Lewis scholars often say it is, The Silver Chair may be about the dangers of Sloth. The kids are far too easily taken in by promises of relaxation, and their minds (and more importantly, their spirituality) become lazy, falling prey to the Green Witch’s mesmerizing speech and her veneer of demure prettiness.

Lady of the Green Kirtle, by Kecky

This is why overtly sexual depictions of the witch don’t work for her character. She may be a conniving, powerful ball-buster, but on the surface, she’s wholesome and innocent. Which is what makes her character so disturbing, IMO. She’s a form of psychopath. It’s even hinted earlier that Rilian’s mother, Ramandu the Star’s Daughter (who really deserves a name) realized the truth about her, but died of the poison before she could warn her son. Rather an ignoble and meangingless end for her. But the Chronicles are actually full of these, much more so than The Lord of the Rings trilogy, fellow inkling Tolkien’s work. There, only the villains and nameless extras die, save for Boromir and Theoden, who both get noble and heroic demises, and Denethor, whose suicide was full of epic tragedy.

To give the Green Witch a throne room, like this concept artist for shelved Silver Chair movie did, is out of character as well.

Though an interesting, colorful design with swamplike elements such as fungi, it doesn’t fit the story. The Green Witch wasn’t showy or splashy. She didn’t need to impress. She was perfectly capable of creating her own slavish followers through magic. She didn’t need an elaborate set.

Artwork by Sumimasen

Although she was, perhaps, even worse of a villain that Jadis, Lewis did have some dark, wicked fun with the Green Witch’s character, poking fun at her the same way he did with Jadis’s fish-out-of-water turn in Edwardian London. The Lady appears charming and courtly on the surface, but she’s also slightly grating. Her speech is affected (that trilling which is odd to modern readers, but likely made sense in a Medieval world) and, especially, her milquetoast, condescending tone. It’s  how a child would conceive Medieval speech, and it sounds false. Lewis employed the same trick at the end of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe with the speech of the adult Pevensie monarchs (“Marry, a strange device,” said King Peter, “to set a lantern here where the trees cluster so thick about it and so high above it that if it were lit it should give light to no man.”) which, as a child, I hated — mainly because I couldn’t understand it — but it also made them into different characters from the four kids I had just read about. But it was also genius on Lewis’s part, because when they pass the lamppost and enter the wardrobe they turn back into their old selves. I think Lewis really meant for them to sound stilted and ridiculous, so when they return to 1940s England the reader breathes a sigh or relief that they’re back and has no regrets they lost out on Narnia.

The same element is at play in the witch’s and Rilian’s speech, the Medieval tone both mocking and concealing what is underneath. When Rilian returns to his true self his speech is not so flowery anymore. Lewis plays homage to Arthurian tales while also making fun of them, the same way he paid homage to H. P. Lovecraft in his depiction of the ruined city of the giants and stone bridge earlier in the same book.

Temptation, by Fabio Pratti

The more adult connotations of the story are left unstated. Yet, to an adult they’re obvious. Rilian and the Green Witch look like they’re having a stereotypical courtly relationship, the chaste knight-protector and high-born lady love; but surely sex is also part of her control over him. The tale of Rilian’s disappearance, related by an elder Owl, attests. Not only is he her lover, he is slavishly devoted to her,  which the kids make fun of (“He’s a great baby, really: tied to that woman’s apron strings”). It must have been a hoot for Lewis to write how modern kids would react towards goopy courtly love.

After the witch’s death, Lewis is careful to point that the two horses she and Rilian rode on, Snowflake and Coalback (left)  are saved from the Underworld and return to Narnia with the good guys. The horses are innocents in all of this. It’s also a way of saying the nightmare is over and normal life can go on.

 

 

 

 

Worldbuilding Wednesday 6/30/21: The Green Witch (Narnia XX)

C. S. Lewis’s The Silver Chair featured the second most powerful villainess of the Narnia world: The Green Witch, known by her more popular title of The Lady of the Green Kirtle (a Medieval term for a woman’s petticoat/gown.)  She works by subterfuge, can transform into a serpent, has a knowledge of hypnotism and magic powders, and can play a mean lute. But unlike the White Witch, she never got a proper name!

Here’s some suggestions that play on her favorite color, her talent for poisons, and her affinity for snakes.

 

Names for The Green Witch

Olivina

Parathia

Serpentisa

Myrstra

Sypressa

Virula

Mossmeline

Fernothy

Cintrella

Vipretta

Mambara

Chrysambra

Aminida

Thallim

Lithia

Flourina

Verdina

Phosme

Elaurel

Pyrene

Sarrina

The Myrtlemaid

Quetzaline

Celandina

Maladona

Synida

Serpensa

Verdith

Anilina

Chloraline

Chrysintra

Dejatalis

Envenoma

Virusia

Emraldama

Nocula

Aslan’s Country

Not many artists take on the metaphorical, and metaphysical, aspects of Aslan’s Country, the heavenly paradise where souls go after death, and which surrounds and is also inside all of Aslan’s (God’s) creations. Here are two depictions, most likely by the same artist.

Worldbuilding Wednesday 6/23/21: The Twins of Archenland (Narnia XIX)

 

Archenland is a country to the south of Narnia proper (that is, Narnia the nation-state not Narnia the world) and lies between it and Calormen, providing a buffer of sorts. Rather, its mountains provide a buffer. There’s a northern range lying between it and Narnia, and a southern range that provides a barrier to the Great Desert and Calormen. I’d always pictured Archenland like Switzerland, a small country in a green valley between the two ranges. Lewis never states how high they are, but since Shasta/Cor crosses them in The Horse and His Boy without feeling a lack of oxygen, I’d say they’re under 7,000 feet, probably more like six or five thousand. High enough to have passes blocked by snow and ice in the winter months.

The other thing Archenland is famous for is twins. My memories from The Horse and His Boy were that twins ran in the line of the Royal family, and if male they were always named a certain way: a short name for the first-born, a longer one deriving from the first twin’s name for the second born. To my surprise, when I went back to Horse to research this, I discovered otherwise.

“Apparently King Lune is my father,” said Shasta. “I might really have guessed it. Corin being so like me. We were twins, you see. Oh, and my name isn’t Shasta, it’s Cor.”

“Cor is a nicer name than Shasta,” said Aravis.

“Brothers’ names run like that in Archenland,” said Shasta (or Prince Cor as we must now call him). “Like Dar and Darrin, Cole and Colin and so on.”

This says nothing about twins being common in Archenland or the Royal family, and in fact doesn’t even say twins alone received this naming convention… all brothers did. Though it could get awkward if a family has, say, seven sons, and son #7 gets a name of seven syllables… consisting of all the previous brothers’ syllables with his own tacked on the end. Alternately, each following brother might get the name of the first, plus his own unique syllable.

I am sure, however, that Lewis meant twin brothers here — fraternal or identical — and not all brothers, just because in real life twins have names that resonate more often than not, such as beginning with the same letter (Jaimie and Jason) or rhyming (Jax and Dax) or associated in some other way (Michael and Gabriel, Hannibal and Alexander).

If the twins are male and female, I suppose we would have Cor and Cora, Dar and Dara, Cole and Coleen, etc.

Later in The Horse and His Boy, Cor finds out that he, not his brother Corin, is the one who will inherit the Crown from his father. (From this passage I deduced that the first-born gets the shorter name. So King Lune might have a brother named Lunetic or similar.)

“Nay, lad,” said King Lune, “thou art my heir. The crown comes to thee.”

“But I don’t want it,” said Cor. “I’d far rather—”

“‘Tis no question what thou wantest, Cor, nor I either. ‘Tis in course of law.”

“But if we’re twins we must be the same age.”

“Nay,” said the King with a laugh. “One must come first. Art Corin’s elder by full twenty minutes. And his better too, let’s hope, though that’s no great mastery.” And he looked at Corin with a twinkle in his eyes.

“But, Father, couldn’t you make whichever you like to be the next King?”

“No. The King’s under the law, for it’s the law makes him a king. Hast no more power to start away from thy crown than any sentry from his post.”

Suppose the elder twin is entirely unsuitable to be king, like, say, Charles II of Spain? Do you choose the law, or the good of the country? Primogeniture sucks. (Then again, the story had to end in a happy way, which it ultimately was.)

If you’re looking for twin names… or brother names… for some Archenland fanfic, here’s a bunch.

 

Twin names in Archenland

Twin 1

Chen

Lan

Hed

Duth

Wynn

Thran

Thol

Den

Dast

Dall

Ced

Brel

Van

Vin

Twin 2

Chennan

Landalf

Hedian

Duthan

Wynnoth

Thranluft

Tholsen

Deniteir

Dastran

Dallar

Cedhald

Brellag

Vancar

Vinsax

Female twin

Chenna

Lana

Heda

Dutha

Wynna

Thrana

Thola

Denna

Dastra

Dallina

Cedwyn

Brella

Vanna

Vinda

 

Brother names in Archenland,
Additive Theory

1st

Chen

Lan

Hed

Duth

Wynn

Thran

Thol

Den

Dast

Dall

Ced

Brel

Van

Vin

2nd

Chennan

Landalf

Hedian

Duthan

Wynnoth

Thranluft

Tholsen

Deniteir

Dastran

Dallar

Cedhald

Brellag

Vancar

Vinsax

3rd

Chennandar

Landalfus

Hediangor

Duthanial

Wynnothad

Thranluftus

Tholsenan

Deniteiran

Dastranes

Dallargan

Cedhalder

Brellagold

Vancarson

Vinsaxon

4th

Chennandaron

Landalfusar

Hediangoril

Duthanialus

Wynnothadon

Thranluftusin

Tholsenaneth

Deniteiranid

Dastraneson

Dallarganvel

Cedhalderith

Brellagoldord

Vancarsondin

Vinsaxonid

5th

Chennandaronul

Landalfusarin

Hediangorilumn

Duthanialustun

Wynnothadoneir

Thranluftusintor

Tholsenanethen

Deniteiranidus

Dastranesonind

Dallarganvelus

Cedhalderithin

Brellagoldordun

Vancarsondin

Vinsaxonided

Names are getting mighty awkward by the fourth brother here! The naming method below makes more sense.

 

Brother names in Archenland,
with ending variations

1st

Chen

Lan

Hed

Duth

Wynn

Thran

Thol

Den

Dast

Dall

Ced

Brel

Van

Vin

2nd

Chennan

Landalf

Hedian

Duthan

Wynnoth

Thranluft

Tholsen

Deniteir

Dastran

Dallar

Cedhald

Brellag

Vancar

Vinsax

3rd

Chendar

Lanus

Hedgor

Duthes

Wynnlad

Thrannold

Tholmien

Denger

Dastber

Dallgren

Cedwalt

Brellver

Vangel

Vinday

4th

Chenson

Lankel

Hedmind

Duthorn

Wynnstor

Thranven

Tholbel

Denran

Dastfur

Dallborn

Cedeth

Brellord

Vansond

Vinrul

5th

Chendoul

Lansart

Hedop

Duthstan

Wynnves

Thrancus

Tholdent

Denbluth

Dastence

Dallus

Cedsfol

Brellsun

Vanpolk

Vinbas

Narnia Nightmare

Narnia, the Meeting by Azul Hoshi

Not all depictions of Narnia are positive. It is a scary place in a lot of ways — there’s an evil witch who turns innocent creatures to stone, a trusted friend betrays a child, and another child betrays his siblings, out of spite no less. The know-it-all hero — the Gandalf, if you will — is humiliated and  stabbed through the heart on a stone table. (Hah! I just made a parallel between Lewis and Tolkien there.) This vision of the wardrobe by Azul Hoshi turns Narnia into the stuff of horror, tree limbs reaching out for Lucy while a cold wind blows and an eye — presumably that of The Witch Witch, though it’s up for grabs — stares down.

 

The Western Wild

To the west, a beautiful yet hostile and rugged land.

Other posts in this series:

The Odd Geography of the Utter East

The Wild Lands of the North

Calormen and the South

So we come to the last unexplored region of Narnia – The Western Wild. It’s an area of rugged wilderness, without law or human rulers, as opposed to the south, which is dominated by Persian / Indian / Arabic Calormen, and the east, which has the sea and the island nations of Galma, Terebinthia, and the Seven Isles with which Narnia trades and intermarries with. Narnia proper can also be thought of as being part of the East, since it’s Aslan’s sacred direction, and Narnia is close to Aslan.

Each part of Narnia got to shine in one of the books of the series. Narnia itself in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and Prince Caspian; the Eastern Ocean in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader; the north (and underground) in The Silver Chair, and the south in The Horse and His Boy. The last two books of the series, which detail Narnia’s beginning and end, involve Narnia’s west, in what Lewis called the ice-mountains and the garden of the silver apples. Strangely, this garden never got a proper name. The garden sits on the apex of a tall green hill and exists partly in the Narnia world, partly in some other. It’s an allegory for both Heaven and the Garden of Paradise, since there’s a serpent there to tempt innocents in the guise of Jadis.

The first mention of Narnia’s western parts occurs in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe when Lucy meets Mr. Tumnus near the Lamppost.

“This is the land of Narnia,” said the Faun, “where we are now; all that lies between the lamp-post and the great castle of Cair Paravel on the eastern sea. And you—you have come from the wild woods of the west?”

Note that the region is referred to as the wild woods, not the western wild as in the rest of the series. Which is understandable, as The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was first book of the series and the geography was yet to be mapped.

And why “the wild woods” and not just “woods” or “forests?” Well, it flows off the tongue nicely. But I think it’s also because Lewis, being the proper Englishman he was, also retained the proper Englishman’s cultural disdain for America, seeing it as wild and uncivilized compared to Europe’s long and stately history. It’s notable that Susan begins her estrangement from Aslan in America, in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader — she’s the “grown-up” one who will get more out of her parents’ trip there than Lucy and Edmund. This is not to say Lewis had planned Susan’s arc in advance, but since it is the last time in the Pevensie books that Susan is mentioned, it’s telling. Perhaps Lewis was influenced by media reports of a frivolous youth culture beginning to take root in the states. Add to that the influence on England of American cowboy movies (which also influenced a young Bernie Taupin, Elton John’s songwriting partner) and it’s pretty clear that in Narnia, of course the west is wild, as the south is an Arabian Nights desert empire and the north is full of trollish giants. That’s the basic English child’s view of the rest of the world, from a certain generation.

That this wild west has mountains is mentioned in Prince Caspian, when Dr. Cornelius tells young Caspian “You are all Telmarines—that is, you all came from the Land of Telmar, far beyond the Western Mountains” and, on the night of the meeting of the planets, the two face south to see the event, and Caspian observes for himself that “Away on his right he could see, rather indistinctly, the Western Mountains.” Since Lewis on his own map indicates Miraz’s castle is close to Lantern Waste and the Great River, one could a make a case that Telmar is due west as the crow flies. (Incidentally, this part of Narnia has a title that is only mentioned once: The Western March.)

Reading only the first two books (Narnia’s west is not mentioned in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, which concentrates on the Eastern Ocean) one might think the Western Mountains are an isolated range and not a chain. This has led to some confusion on fans’ maps, which stick them in odd places or omit them altogether.

 

Click to see larger version

This busy yet charming map, rendered in Spanish, couldn’t be further away from canon, yet going on the information from the books, could be how the geography really lay. Except a western ocean was never mentioned, of course.

Click to see larger version

This map, appropriating Narnia for some wargaming purpose, indicates the mountains running north to south as in the master map and takes creative license with the rest, again delightfully.

A “Google Earth” rendition that gets it mostly right, I think.

Let’s talk about the length of the western range. In The Silver Chair Jill observes, from her tower room in Cair Paravel:

The window looked west into the strange land of Narnia, and Jill saw the red remains of the sunset still glowing behind distant mountains. It made her long for more adventures and feel sure that this was only the beginning.

(Be careful what you wish for, Jill.)

Aside from being another of my favorite passages, we can deduce that the mountains Jill sees part of the same chain that Caspian saw from his family’s castle, so they extend north to south from at least these two points.

These same mountains extend all the way down to Archenland, as The Horse and His Boy states the river Winding Arrow pours “from the higher mountains at the western end of the range” – the range in question being the mountains that divide Narnia from Archenland. Later in the same book Duffle the dwarf tells Shasta: “I’ll show you the lie of the land. You can see nearly all South Narnia from here, and we’re rather proud of the view. Right away on your left, beyond those near hills, you can just see the Western Mountains.”

Confusion is still present, however. The Hermit of the Southern March can see all over Narnia through his magic pool, including “what robbers or wild beasts stirred in the great Western forests between Lantern Waste and Telmar” where the mountains aren’t mentioned at all, even though earlier it was stated Telmar lies beyond the western mountains. But it also indicates, indirectly, that Telmar is closer to Lantern Waste and Miraz’s Narnian castle than to Calormen, as Pauline Baynes’s master map indicates.

Telmar is a puzzle. In the last post of this series, I felt sure it lay somewhere to the west of Archenland, accessible through some pass or valley from Calormen. Lewis’s unpublished but accepted Narnian history timeline states that Telmar was first settled by Calormenes before the Earth pirates came. But now, I am not sure it’s where Baynes’ pass is indicated. The canon evidence just lies against it. Unless the southern pass was very long, or Telmar was a long and skinny country like modern-day Chile.

In the last two books of the Chronicles, The Magician’s Nephew and The Last Battle, we finally get to see what lies in those western mountains. Both also, in Narnia, take place in the vicinity of Lantern Waste, or what was to be Lantern Waste. (Jeez, what was it about that area that so many major events took place there? Only The Silver Chair and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader skip it.) What lies in those mountains, is specifically, the Garden of the Silver Apples, to which Digory Kirke heads on a mission.

In the last third of The Magician’s Nephew Aslan tells Digory to look to the west and tell his what he sees. They are standing in what will become Lantern Waste as the lamppost has already grown from the iron bar that Jadis threw.

“I see terribly big mountains, Aslan,” said Digory. “I see this river coming down cliffs in a waterfall. And beyond the cliff there are high green hills with forests. And beyond those there are higher ranges that look almost black. And then, far, far away, there are big snowy mountains all heaped up together— like pictures of the Alps. And behind those there’s nothing but the sky.”

“You see well,” said the Lion. “Now the land of Narnia ends where the waterfall comes down, and once you have reached the top of the cliff you will be out of Narnia and into the Western Wild. You must journey through those mountains till you find a green valley with a blue lake in it, walled round by mountains of ice. At the end of the lake there is a steep, green hill. On the top of that hill there is a garden. In the centre of that garden is a tree. Pluck an apple from that tree and bring it back to me.”

A little while later, Aslan says:

“Do not fly too high… Do not try to go over the tops of the great ice-mountains. Look out for the valleys, the green places and fly through them.”

These passages clear up a lot about the west, but also raise more issues.

First, Digory says he sees great mountains, then accurately describes Caldron pool, the Great Waterfall, and the cliffs as according to the seminal map and Baynes’ last, complete one. But, has Digory said he sees mountains, then over these, the pool, or he just says mountains in general, then describes what’s at hand leading up to them? It’s probably number two, but it’s not explicit.

Then, Digory sees big, snowy mountains like the Alps heaped up all together. Which he would say, as  it’s likely what he knows. But what Digory calls mountains with snow and ice, Aslan calls mountains of ice, or ice-mountains. Is this just a different, more archaic way of saying high, glaciated, snowcapped mountains, or did Aslan actually mean mountains made of ice?

Baynes seems to have thought so, as her illustration of the garden indicates.

For all its picturesqueness, mountains of ice don’t seem very likely as a geological feature, and even if Narnia is a fantastic world, Lewis is always careful to base the terrain on what exists in real life. I’ll say that this is one of the cases where Baynes took the text too literally despite the closeness of their working relationship.

Also, in The Last Battle Lewis states about Caldron Pool “It is liveliest in the early spring when the waterfall is swollen with all the snow that has melted off the mountains from up beyond Narnia in the Western Wild from which the river comes.” So… chances are, the mountains are ordinary rocky ones and not made of solid ice. And remember somewhere in all this is Telmar, which the kids, flying into the sunset according to the text (“They were flying over a wild country of steep hills and dark forests … But the sun was now in the travellers’ eyes and they couldn’t see things very clearly in that direction”) somehow miss. Well, Lewis did state they couldn’t see clearly, and the area that became Telmar hadn’t been civilized yet. But I’ll come back to Telmar later.

Anyway, it’s all up in the air (to make a pun.) I will say, these are Alp-like rocky mountains and pretty high, at least 8,000 feet which is where non-acclimated mammals begin to feel altitude sickness. Tibetan yak, which can be the size of Fledge, can live up to 16,400 feet, but their biology is designed for it. Of course 8,000 feet is small as far as titanic mountains ranges go;  the average height of the Alps is around 15,000 feet, so let’s say that is par for the Western Mountains, and high enough to sustain the glaciers from which the streams that feed the river arise. When Fledge flew, he heeded Aslan’s advice and threaded through the valleys.

We’re not told how long the journey took, but when they leave The Garden of the Silver Apples, around late morning, they arrive back at Lantern Waste when the sun is setting again. So, I’ll say eight hours at the stately pace of a flying horse. But since they followed the valleys, it wasn’t as the crow flies, and the garden’s location might not be as immediately west of caldron pool as some maps indicate.

The green hill lies at the end of a blue lake in the heart of the mountains surrounded by “icy peaks” which act as a barrier to intruders. By the description, I think it’s reasonable to assume these peaks are the highest of the chain. The garden has gold gates facing east (Aslan’s direction) where Digory-as-Adam is tempted by the fruit of not knowledge, but eternal youth and vitality, with Jadis filling the role of the serpent. The silver apples also echo the tale of the Golden Apples from Greek myth, which I understood when I first read it.

You can see Jadis far to the right by the trunk of the tree.

Later in The Last Battle the garden serves as a gathering place for the resurrected Narnians and friends of Narnia after the apocalyptic end of shadow-Narnia and the train accident, respectively. (Here Edmund also calls them ice-mountains, so I guess I guess it’s a synonym not a literalism.) Its here that Lewis does some puzzling things with geography and that surpass even the oddness of the standing wave of the Utter East.

But when you looked down you found that this hill was much higher than you had thought: it sank down with shining cliffs, thousands of feet below them and trees in that lower world looked no bigger than grains of green salt. Then she turned inward again and stood with her back to the wall and looked at the garden.

“I see,” she said at last, thoughtfully. “I see now. This garden is like the Stable. It is far bigger inside than it was outside.”

“Of course, Daughter of Eve,” said the Faun. “The further up and the further in you go, the bigger everything gets. The inside is larger than the outside.”

Lucy looked hard at the garden and saw that it was not really a garden at all but a whole world, with its own rivers and woods and sea and mountains. But they were not strange: she knew them all.

“I see,” she said. “This is still Narnia, and, more real and more beautiful than the Narnia down below, just as it was more real and more beautiful than the Narnia outside the Stable door! I see … world within world, Narnia within Narnia….”

“Yes,” said Mr. Tumnus, “like an onion: except that as you continue to go in and in, each circle is larger than the last.”

Well, okay.

As a child I found this very confusing. I accepted that in this hyper-Narnia everything was better, because they were in a heaven of sorts. But how could the garden be a Narnia as well, in miniature form? What would happen if you set foot in it and decided to stomp all over it, Godzilla style? I still can’t reconcile the imagery, and the metaphors, and I really wish the author had explained it better.

However this does make me feel that, metaphorically, this is Narnia’s western limit. As the sandy shore and standing wave led Reepicheep into Aslan’s country in the east, The Garden of the Silver Apples serves the same for the west. I can imagine that the tall peak from which Digory and Polly see the sun set behind really is as thin and flat like cardboard it’s described as, and should they have traveled further and looked behind, they will see it’s no more than a stage prop hiding where the sun disappears at night.

Anyway I was not too happy about this onion explanation.

Now let’s move on to Telmar.

It is quite possible that one of the valleys Fledge, Digory, and Polly fly over in their journey is the future location of Telmar. Aslan told them to avoid the higher mountains and follow the valleys, so it’s likely their journey was convoluted and not straight-arrow. Or perhaps Telmar was on a plateau, with passes that led north to Lantern Waste and south to Archenland. Lewis had died before Baynes prepared the complete map, and I think that she, with access to his unpublished timeline, surmised that Telmar was closer to Calormen.

But then “beyond the Western Mountains” implies exactly that, over and on the other wide of the mountains, not in them. This fact is repeated several times in the series. If the Garden of the Silver Apples, situated in the highest part of the mountains, serves as the western end of Narnia-as-world, how can Telmar be on the other side of those mountains? Or perhaps the garden is an umbilicus of sorts, at the center of the world.

Hmm, I like that idea.

Aside from Telmar, not much is known about who or what lives in The Western Wild. Mention is made of a human hunter killing a lion in The Last Battle. Who he is, and where he came from, are explicitly left out of the story. Later in the book, at Narnia’s Last Judgement, there comes, streaming through Aslan’s door, “strange unearthly things from the remote islands or the unknown Western lands.” Lands implies there were more than one, and since only sentient creatures come through the door, the “things” were intelligent. But there was no elaboration. And indeed, that’s all we know.

So, I can conclude there was a west beyond the mountains; all the evidence points to it.

Lewis does NOT say, however, that there was a western ocean, as many maps depict. The wikis or maps that put one in there are based on a misreading of the above quote; I suspect that in some editions of the book “Western lands” was misprinted as “Western islands,” or readers misread it as “remote islands of the unknown Western lands.” But, Lewis did not mention a tundra either, yet there were reindeer and polar bears, in the first book at least.

He also did not write about the path from Telmar to Narnia being along a gorge, or Telmar trading with Calormen. That’s an invention of the movie, or the movie producers. In all of these posts, I’m sticking to what Lewis actually wrote. Anything from the movies is just an AU.

In a later post on Narnian geography, I’ll be pulling everything together.

Worldbuilding Wednesday 6/16/21: Gallic Chieftains (Narnia XVIII)

 

Where did the name of Mr. Tumnus, the helpful faun of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, come from? Gallic chieftains, of course! Where -umnus and -umnos were frequent components, as in names Togodumnos and Dumnorix.  Of course, these were also latinised; the only way we know these names today is through Roman chronicles.

The -us ending of Tumnus is clearer: in Latin, it denotes a male name. The meaning of Tumn- is up for grabs however. I’m sure Lewis did not intend it as British slang for the stomach area, so I propose it derives from Autumn, being as the character functions as a bright spot of Autumn left in a wintry and frozen landscape.

Looking at the Chronicles as a whole, I am also pretty sure Lewis may have thought of The Western Wild of Narnia as having Celtish or Gallic-derived inhabitants. The lion skin that starts all the trouble in The Last Battle was said to have come from a human hunter far upstream of The Great River; tellingly, Lewis refuses to tell the reader his story. Earlier, in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Caspian and crew stop at a deserted island where they find “ruins of stone huts… also some bones and broken weapons” which screams Bronze Age to me, as well as the small coracle (helpfully explained as a boat “made of hide stretched over a wicker framework”) Reepicheep appropriates. In rereading this passage, I’ve noted they don’t spare any tears for the former inhabitants. In Lewis’s childhood, barely out of the Victorian Age, more primitive peoples were thought of as subhumans, models to be discarded on the way to higher civilization.

Making up a Gallic chieftain of your own? Here are some names… and if you need a tribe, it’s here.

 

Gallic Chieftains

Mnarus

Vullvanus

Votorix

Duagmoros

Daumos

Eppumos

Pvikos

Olumnus

Olrix

Celtimnis

Satoros

Taeverix

Erendorix

Pervuptuous

Ultorix

Ilgenus

Aerios

Viax

Through the Portal

Portal Fantasy: A subgenre of fantasy literature where inhabitants from our world enter a secondary one through a magical portal door or gate, or in some cases a magical object like a tree or mirror. Usually used in children’s fantasy but not always.

The portal trope is a particularly robust one in speculative literature. Its progenitors are the rabbit hole and mirror of Alice in Wonderland and Alice Through the Looking Glass, but it also includes horror (Weaveworld and Imagica, by Clive Barker) science fiction (the TV series Land of the Lost, where a family enters an interdimensional pocket during an earthquake) historical romance (Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series) epic fantasy (The Fionavar Tapestry)  and, of course, Narnia, where initial access comes through a wardrobe, the kind used for the storage of clothing in houses that didn’t have closets.

I myself always picture the wardrobe as being very plain, like this.

Narnia wardrobe

It’s in a plain room, and six feet from it, to the right (out of the range of the photo) is the doorway which the tour guide and party comes through, causing the Pevensie kids to take refuge. It’s an iconic image, that of discovering another land in so workaday an object.

Other artists have their interpretations.

A Brief Guide to C. S. Lewis and Narnia

This book cover fancies up the wardrobe with a carved top — including a lion’s head — and the fur coats and winter snow that play a role in the first part of the story.

In this one, most likely made after the 2005 movie by its depiction of Mr. Tumnus, Lucy opens the heavy oak doors to see only coats, but Narnia is blooming all around it, out of her sight, with elements of the story.

This piece of concept art from the movie sets down the elements for its depiction: small child Lucy and a massive, ornately carved Victorian wardrobe, from which she first removes the sheet draping it. It’s a double unveiling. Its location in a small, plain, dead-end room literally screams “Open me! I am magical!” But I always thought the wardrobe’s appeal came from it looking so ordinary, in an ordinary location, yet containing a universe.

This depiction by ArdenRey depicts the despair of a child trying to enter, or re-enter, Narnia, but being stymied by the back wall. The wardrobe cooperates only when Aslan wants it to.

In this depiction by Sarara182  Lucy is now a young teen wearing a filmy dress. She seems about to explore her budding sexuality. The doors of this wardrobe are carved with a tree, bringing to mind the door to the Mines of Moria in The Fellowship of the Ring.

Of course, it’s very possible to make your own magic portal. All you need is an old wardrobe with the back cut out and an already-existing opening. Murphydoor.com, purveyer of secret and hidden doors, presents all the possibilities. This builder added a Christmas tree and lampost to the white-carpeted space beyond.

Also within the realm of possibilities is this Lego wardrobe with Mr. Tumnus, Lucy, and a snowy landscape beyond.

Worldbuilding Wednesday 6/9/21: Let’s Hear it for the As


Aslan, the lion deity of The Chronicles of Narnia, shows his importance by having A as the first letter of his name. In the English language, it’s the first letter of the alphabet. One language theory posits that modern humans, when they read written characters, use the same parts of the brain once used for analyzing landscape features. If true, then A is a mountain, not only the foremost character, but the most visually arresting and important.  C. S. Lewis most likely modeled the name Aslan on Arslan, the Persian word for lion, wisely dropping the R because of its connotations to arse (British slang for buttocks.)

That there are two As is Aslan makes him doubly impressive.

In fantasy, A names are also equated with character importance much of the time, from Atreides to Ael (ninja-like tribesman from The Wheel of Time series) to Orson Scott Card’s hero Alvin Maker.

Here’s some randomgenned character names beginning with A.

 

Character names beginning with A

Male

Agatern

Adis

Andel

Atrull

Agis

Ankaun

Athosus

Abhil

Adhiston

Aris

Female

Agnaata

Asja

Ashirielle

Alis

Aldalisa

Amapra

Annefra

Anothy

Adnee

Angmora

Surnames

Arkcherry

Ambercross

Aechester

Axwoven

Afallpor

Archnude

Allwithers

Aister

Aspofeld

Angchiss