A Year with Aslan: Daily Reflections from The Chronicles of Narnia

by C. S. Lewis

  “You talk like an old woman, Glozelle,” said the King. “What say you, my Lord Sopespian?”

  “Do not touch it, Sire,” was the reply. “And what your Majesty says of the policy of the thing comes in very happily. It gives your Majesty excellent grounds for a refusal without any cause for questioning your Majesty’s honor or courage.”

  “Great Heaven!” exclaimed Miraz, jumping to his feet. “Are you also bewitched today? Do you think I am looking for grounds to refuse it? You might as well call me coward to my face.”

  The conversation was going exactly as the two lords wished, so they said nothing.

  “I see what it is,” said Miraz, after staring at them as if his eyes would start out of his head, “you are as lily-livered as hares yourselves and have the effrontery to imagine my heart after the likeness of yours! Grounds for a refusal, indeed! Excuses for not fighting! Are you soldiers? Are you Telmarines? Are you men? And if I do refuse it (as all good reasons of captaincy and martial policy urge me to do) you will think, and teach others to think, I was afraid. Is it not so?”

  “No man of your Majesty’s age,” said Glozelle, “would be called coward by any wise soldier for refusing the combat with a great warrior in the flower of his youth.”

  “So I’m to be a dotard with one foot in the grave, as well as a dastard,” roared Miraz. “I’ll tell you what it is, my Lords. With your womanish counsels (ever shying from the true point, which is one of policy) you have done the very opposite of your intent. I had meant to refuse it. But I’ll accept it. Do you hear, accept it! I’ll not be shamed because some witchcraft or treason has frozen both your bloods.”

  —Prince Caspian

  What tactics do the two lords use to convince Miraz to accept Peter’s challenge of a single, person-to-person combat? When have you allowed yourself to be convinced by peer pressure to do something you might otherwise not have done?

  FEBRUARY 17

  Approaching Aslan

  ASLAN STOOD IN THE CENTER of a crowd of creatures who had grouped themselves round him in the shape of a half-moon. There were Tree-Women there and Well-Women (Dryads and Naiads as they used to be called in our world) who had stringed instruments; it was they who had made the music. There were four great centaurs. The horse part of them was like huge English farm horses, and the man part was like stern but beautiful giants. There was also a unicorn, and a bull with the head of a man, and a pelican, and an eagle, and a great Dog. And next to Aslan stood two leopards of whom one carried his crown and the other his standard.

  But as for Aslan himself, the Beavers and the children didn’t know what to do or say when they saw him. People who have not been in Narnia sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at the same time. If the children had ever thought so, they were cured of it now. For when they tried to look at Aslan’s face they just caught a glimpse of the golden mane and the great, royal, solemn, overwhelming eyes; and then they found they couldn’t look at him and went all trembly.

  “Go on,” whispered Mr. Beaver.

  “No,” whispered Peter, “you first.”

  “No, Sons of Adam before animals,” whispered Mr. Beaver back again.

  “Susan,” whispered Peter, “what about you? Ladies first.”

  “No, you’re the eldest,” whispered Susan. And of course the longer they went on doing this the more awkward they felt. Then at last Peter realized that it was up to him. He drew his sword and raised it to the salute and hastily saying to the others “Come on. Pull yourselves together,” he advanced to the Lion and said:

  “We have come—Aslan.”

  —The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

  Why is it so hard for them to approach Aslan? Who or what in your life has required a great deal of courage for you to face?

  FEBRUARY 18

  Not Your Horse

  ALL RIGHT THEN,” said Aravis. “You’ve guessed it. Hwin and I are running away. We are trying to get to Narnia. And now, what about it?”

  “Why, in that case, what is to prevent us all going together?” said Bree. “I trust, Madam Hwin, you will accept such assistance and protection as I may be able to give you on the journey?”

  “Why do you keep talking to my horse instead of to me?” asked the girl.

  “Excuse me, Tarkheena,” said Bree (with just the slightest backward tilt of his ears), “but that’s Calormene talk. We’re free Narnians, Hwin and I, and I suppose, if you’re running away to Narnia, you want to be one too. In that case Hwin isn’t your horse any longer. One might just as well say you’re her human.”

  The girl opened her mouth to speak and then stopped. Obviously she had not quite seen it in that light before.

  —The Horse and His Boy

  How do you think Aravis feels to hear the radical Narnian view of horse ownership? Have you ever felt possessive of another person as she felt about her horse, Hwin? If so, what can you do to view him or her more as a free person and less as yours?

  FEBRUARY 19

  We Simply Must Try

  [MR. TUMNUS’S] door had been wrenched off its hinges and broken to bits. Inside, the cave was dark and cold and had the damp feel and smell of a place that had not been lived in for several days. Snow had drifted in from the doorway and was heaped on the floor, mixed with something black, which turned out to be the charred sticks and ashes from the fire. Someone had apparently flung it about the room and then stamped it out. The crockery lay smashed on the floor and the picture of the Faun’s father had been slashed into shreds with a knife.

  “This is a pretty good washout,” said Edmund; “not much good coming here.”

  “What is this?” said Peter, stooping down. He had just noticed a piece of paper which had been nailed through the carpet to the floor.

  “Is there anything written on it?” asked Susan.

  “Yes, I think there is,” answered Peter, “but I can’t read it in this light. Let’s get out into the open air.”

  They all went out in the daylight and crowded round Peter as he read out the following words:

  The former occupant of these premises, the Faun Tumnus, is under arrest and awaiting his trial on a charge of High Treason against her Imperial Majesty Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands, etc., also of comforting her said Majesty’s enemies, harboring spies and fraternizing with Humans.

  signed MAUGRIM, Captain of the Secret Police,

  long live the queen!

  The children stared at each other.

  “I don’t know that I’m going to like this place after all,” said Susan.

  “Who is this Queen, Lu?” said Peter. “Do you know anything about her?”

  “She isn’t a real queen at all,” answered Lucy; “she’s a horrible witch, the White Witch. Everyone—all the wood people—hate her. She has made an enchantment over the whole country so that it is always winter here and never Christmas.”

  “I—I wonder if there’s any point in going on,” said Susan. “I mean, it doesn’t seem particularly safe here and it looks as if it won’t be much fun either. And it’s getting colder every minute, and we’ve brought nothing to eat. What about just going home?”

  “Oh, but we can’t, we can’t,” said Lucy suddenly; “don’t you see? We can’t just go home, not after this. It is all on my account that the poor Faun has got into this trouble. He hid me from the Witch and showed me the way back. That’s what it means by comforting the Queen’s enemies and fraternizing with Humans. We simply must try to rescue him.”

  —The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

  Why does Lucy feel that they must try to rescue Mr. Tumnus? What would you do in her situation? How should we balance loyalty with a concern for our own safety?

  FEBRUARY 20

  Eustace Clarence Scrubb

  THERE WAS A BOY CALLED Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it. His parents called him Eustace Clarence and masters called him Scrubb. I can’t tell you how his friends spok
e to him, for he had none. He didn’t call his father and mother “Father” and “Mother,” but Harold and Alberta. They were very up-to-date and advanced people. They were vegetarians, non-smokers and teetotalers and wore a special kind of underclothes. In their house there was very little furniture and very few clothes on beds and the windows were always open.

  Eustace Clarence liked animals, especially beetles, if they were dead and pinned on a card. He liked books if they were books of information and had pictures of grain elevators or of fat foreign children doing exercises in model schools.

  Eustace Clarence disliked his cousins, the four Pevensies, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. But he was quite glad when he heard that Edmund and Lucy were coming to stay. For deep down inside him he liked bossing and bullying; and, though he was a puny little person who couldn’t have stood up even to Lucy, let alone Edmund, in a fight, he knew that there are dozens of ways to give people a bad time if you are in your own home and they are only visitors.

  —The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

  Why would Eustace Clarence Scrubb almost deserve his name? Why might someone like Eustace want to give Edmund and Lucy a bad time? Have you come across people in your life who fit Eustace’s description?

  FEBRUARY 21

  Edmund Enters Narnia

  [EDMUND] CAME INTO THE ROOM just in time to see Lucy vanishing into the wardrobe. He at once decided to get into it himself—not because he thought it a particularly good place to hide but because he wanted to go on teasing her about her imaginary country. He opened the door. There were the coats hanging up as usual, and a smell of moth-balls, and darkness and silence, and no sign of Lucy. “She thinks I’m Susan come to catch her,” said Edmund to himself, “and so she’s keeping very quiet in at the back.” He jumped in and shut the door, forgetting what a very foolish thing this is to do. Then he began feeling about for Lucy in the dark. He had expected to find her in a few seconds and was very surprised when he did not. He decided to open the door again and let in some light. But he could not find the door either. He didn’t like this at all and began groping wildly in every direction; he even shouted out, “Lucy! Lu! Where are you? I know you’re here.”

  There was no answer and Edmund noticed that his own voice had a curious sound—not the sound you expect in a cupboard, but a kind of open-air sound. He also noticed that he was unexpectedly cold; and then he saw a light.

  “Thank goodness,” said Edmund, “the door must have swung open of its own accord.” He forgot all about Lucy and went toward the light, which he thought was the open door of the wardrobe. But instead of finding himself stepping out into the spare room he found himself stepping out from the shadow of some thick dark fir trees into an open place in the middle of a wood.

  There was crisp, dry snow under his feet and more snow lying on the branches of the trees. Overhead there was a pale blue sky, the sort of sky one sees on a fine winter day in the morning. Straight ahead of him he saw between the tree-trunks the sun, just rising, very red and clear. Everything was perfectly still, as if he were the only living creature in that country. There was not even a robin or a squirrel among the trees, and the wood stretched as far as he could see in every direction. He shivered.

  He now remembered that he had been looking for Lucy; and also how unpleasant he had been to her about her “imaginary country” which now turned out not to have been imaginary at all. He thought that she must be somewhere quite close and so he shouted, “Lucy! Lucy! I’m here too—Edmund.”

  There was no answer.

  “She’s angry about all the things I’ve been saying lately,” thought Edmund. And though he did not like to admit that he had been wrong, he also did not much like being alone in this strange, cold, quiet place; so he shouted again.

  “I say, Lu! I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I see now you were right all along. Do come out. Make it Pax.”

  Still there was no answer.

  —The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

  Do you think Edmund’s apology is sincere? When have you had trouble admitting you were wrong?

  FEBRUARY 22

  Talking Beasts

  CREATURES, I GIVE YOU YOURSELVES,” said the strong, happy voice of Aslan. “I give to you forever this land of Narnia. I give you the woods, the fruits, the rivers. I give you the stars and I give you myself. The Dumb Beasts whom I have not chosen are yours also. Treat them gently and cherish them but do not go back to their ways lest you cease to be Talking Beasts. For out of them you were taken and into them you can return. Do not so.”

  —The Magician’s Nephew

  What would it mean for the Talking Beasts to go back to their former ways? How could they prevent that from happening?

  FEBRUARY 23

  How Can I Help It?

  SHASTA HAD SO ENJOYED HIS DINNER and all the things Tumnus had been telling him that when he was left alone his thoughts took a different turn. He only hoped now that the real Prince Corin would not turn up until it was too late and that he would be taken away to Narnia by ship. I am afraid he did not think at all of what might happen to the real Corin when he was left behind in Tashbaan. He was a little worried about Aravis and Bree waiting for him at the Tombs. But then he said to himself, “Well, how can I help it?” and, “Anyway, that Aravis thinks she’s too good to go about with me, so she can jolly well go alone,” and at the same time he couldn’t help feeling that it would be much nicer going to Narnia by sea than toiling across the desert.

  —The Horse and His Boy

  What are the excuses Shasta tells himself for not worrying about what may happen to the others? When have you left others at risk by putting your own interests first?

  FEBRUARY 24

  Happy Is the Horse

  ASLAN,” SAID BREE in a shaken voice, “I’m afraid I must be rather a fool.”

  “Happy is the Horse who knows that while he is still young. Or the Human either.”

  —The Horse and His Boy

  How could knowing we are fools make us happy?

  FEBRUARY 25

  Deathwater Island

  GET BACK!” [shouted Edmund.] “Back from the water. All of you. At once!!”

  They all did and stared at him.

  “Look,” said Edmund, “look at the toes of my boots.”

  “They look a bit yellow,” began Eustace.

  “They’re gold, solid gold,” interrupted Edmund. “Look at them. Feel them. The leather’s pulled away from it already. And they’re as heavy as lead.”

  “By Aslan!” said Caspian. “You don’t mean to say—?”

  “Yes, I do,” said Edmund. “That water turns things into gold. It turned the spear into gold, that’s why it got so heavy. And it was just lapping against my feet (it’s a good thing I wasn’t barefoot) and it turned the toe-caps into gold. . . . And what a narrow shave we’ve had.”

  “Narrow indeed,” said Reepicheep. “Anyone’s finger, anyone’s foot, anyone’s whisker, or anyone’s tail, might have slipped into the water at any moment.”

  “All the same,” said Caspian, “we may as well test it.” He stooped down and wrenched up a spray of heather. Then, very cautiously, he knelt beside the pool and dipped it in. It was heather that he dipped; what he drew out was a perfect model of heather made of the purest gold, heavy and soft as lead.

  “The King who owned this island,” said Caspian slowly, and his face flushed as he spoke, “would soon be the richest of all Kings of the world. I claim this land forever as a Narnian possession. It shall be called Goldwater Island. And I bind all of you to secrecy. No one must know of this. Not even Drinian—on pain of death, do you hear?”

  “Who are you talking to?” said Edmund. “I’m no subject of yours. If anything it’s the other way round. I am one of the four ancient sovereigns of Narnia and you are under allegiance to the High King my brother.”

  “So it has come to that, King Edmund, has it?” said Caspian, laying his hand on his sword-hilt.

  “Oh, stop it, bo
th of you,” said Lucy. “That’s the worst of doing anything with boys. You’re all such swaggering, bullying idiots—oooh!—” Her voice died away into a gasp. And everyone else saw what she had seen.

  Across the grey hillside above them—grey, for the heather was not yet in bloom—without noise, and without looking at them, and shining as if he were in bright sunlight though the sun had in fact gone in, passed with slow pace the hugest lion that human eyes have ever seen. . . . They knew it was Aslan.

  And nobody ever saw how or where he went. They looked at one another like people waking from sleep.

  “What were we talking about?” said Caspian. “Have I been making rather an ass of myself?”

  “Sire,” said Reepicheep, “this is a place with a curse on it. Let us get back on board at once. And if I might have the honor of naming this island, I should call it Deathwater.”

  —The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

  What is the effect of the gold transformation on Caspian, Edmund, and Lucy in turn? When have you been transfixed by the potential for wealth and riches?

  FEBRUARY 26

  Do You Feel Yourself Sufficient?

  THEN PETER, LEADING CASPIAN, forced his way through the crowd of animals.

  “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.”

  —Prince Caspian

  Why would feeling sufficient be proof that Caspian was not? When have you had to step up to a task for which you did not feel sufficient?