Hello and welcome to chapter 7 of our
Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
read-through. I'm Jem, the reader at St
John the Baptist Parish Church in
Beeston and the chapter we're going to
be looking at today is A Day with the
Beavers. So if you haven't read the
chapter, hurry off and read it.
We'll wait for you. You should read from
'While the two boys were whispering behind,
both the girls suddenly cried "Oh!" and
stopped.' All the way to "That's all the
better, because it means we shan't have
any visitors; and if anyone should have
been trying to follow you, why he won't
find any tracks." Now I think I could
speak with some authority when it comes
to the Beavers in this story. This is a
chapter in which the Pevensey children spend some time with Mr and Mrs
Beaver and thus some of the most
significant Narnian characters enter the
story. I was lucky enough to play Mrs
Beaver when I was in a primary school
production about the age of four or five. And think I can fairly say by strapping on
that cardboard tail, and gathering that
fake fur around me, and blackening
the end of my nose, I gained a true insight
into the metaphysic and cosmological
aspects of Narnia and got an insight
into just how important Mrs Beaver is
in C.S. Lewis's imagination. Certainly they are fun characters and we see
another one of the good meals here. A
domestic interior as opposed to the bad
meal we saw between Edmund and the Witch.
So they meet the Beavers and they're
beckoned, or rather they meet one Beaver,
and they're beckoned further into the
forest. Everyone has the same concern
that Edmund had, suddenly realising oh,
actually we don't know whether this
creature is on our side or not. And when
they begin to speak to Mr Beaver he
warns them actually. He says "Are you the
Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve?" it
said. "We're some of them." said Peter. "S-s-s-sh!"
said the Beaver. "Not so loud, please. We're
not safe even here." "Why, who are you
afraid of?" said Peter. "There's no one here but ourselves." "There are the trees," said the
Beaver. "They're always listening. Most of
them on our side, but there are trees
that would betray us to her; you know what I mean," and it nodded its head several
times. Now we've discussed this
previously, but I think this is another
echo or another resonance of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe as a war novel,
and certainly as a novel about the mid
twentieth century political situation.
It's really telling, perhaps, that for
centuries, perhaps even millennia, people
have written stories thinking, oh what
if animals could talk. What if I could
converse with the animals and they could
speak back. All sorts of fairy tales, and
classical legends, and myths have that
feature. And it's striking that when
Lewis uses this trope, this idea of
beast fable or indeed a magical
talking animal companion. He adds to it,
what if trees could listen and we get
this southern rather chilling insight
into the the fact that again this is a
totalitarian story. A story about
survival under a tyrant, who is holding
the entire land in an unnatural state.
Obviously that's going to be broken
later on. But as soon as an animal talks
to them, assuming we can class
Tumnus as not an animal but something else,
as soon as an animal talks to them, they're
suddenly aware of who could hear them as
well as who can talk back to them. It's a
very telling moment. When Mr Beaver
engages them in further conversation we
have this 'Then signalling to the children
to stand as close around it as they
possibly could, so that their faces were
actually tickled by his whiskers, it
added in a low whisper - "They say Aslan is
on the move - perhaps has already landed."
And now a very curious thing happened.
None of the children knew who Aslan was
any more than you do; but the moment the
Beaver had spoken these words everyone
felt quite different. Perhaps it has sometimes happened to you
in a dream that someone says something
which you don't understand
but in the dream it feels as if it has
some enormous meaning - either a
terrifying one which turns the whole
dream into a nightmare or else a lovely
meaning too lovely to put into words,
which makes the dream so beautiful that
you remember it all your life and are always
wishing  you could get into that
dream again. It was like that now. At
the name of Aslan each one of the
children felt something jump in its
inside. Edmund felt a sensation of
mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly
brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if
some delicious smell or some delightful
strain of music had just floated by her.
And Lucy got the feeling you have when
you wake up in the morning and realize
that it is the beginning of the holidays
or the beginning of summer.' Now this I
think is a fairly remarkable passage.
Rather like the sequence where Mr
Tumnus was telling Lucy stories and the
syntax of the passage changed and we get
these long passages that sort of draw us
along. I think something similar is
happening here. There's a lyrical tone to
it that suddenly enters the prose
and I think signals that we're hearing
something specific, something different.
These odd feelings, these extraordinary sort of inspirations, happen when Mr Beaver
has spoken the name of Aslan and indeed
it actually uses the phrase 'at the name
of Aslan each one of the children felt
something jump in its inside.' Now I think
there's a fairly unequivocal cross
quotation going on here. From the
second letter the Philippians. So chapter
2 from verse 5. 'Let this mind be in you
which was also in Christ Jesus. Who being
in the form of God thought it not
robbery to be equal with God, but made
himself of no reputation and took upon
him the form of a servant and was made
in the likeness of men and being found
in fashion as a man he humbled himself
and became obedient unto death. Even the death of the Cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him and given him a
name which is above every name. That at
the name of Jesus, every knee should bow.
Things in heaven and things in earth
and things under the earth, and that
every tongue should confess that Jesus
Christ is Lord, the glory of God the
Father.' That phrase 'at the name of Jesus',
which has found itself, found its way into
liturgy and preaching and hymnody, is
echoed here I think very, very
deliberately in 'at the name of Aslan
these things happen'. It stressed that
even before they really understand who
Aslan is, or have some sense of the
the part that they're going to play in
his story, the name of Aslan makes
things happen. It calls out things within
them. It draws, it inspires and I think
that's definitely an association going
on there with the letter the
Philippians. A very appropriate passage
of course, given that we are
in the season of Easter. So, as I've said,
there's another shared meal. The Beaver
takes them back to the dam and they have
this lovely domestic scene where they he
and Peter go out and catch fish and they
sit around and eat and chat. 'Just as
the frying pan was nicely hissing, Peter
and Mr Beaver came in with the fish
which Mr Beaver had already opened with
his knife and cleaned out in the open
air. You can think how good the new-caught
fish smelled while they were frying and
how the hungry children longed for them to
be done and how much very hungrier
still they had become before Mr Beaver
said, "Now we're nearly ready."
Susan drained the potatoes and then put
them all back in the empty pot to dry on
the side of the range while Lucy was
helping Mrs Beaver to dish up the trout,
so that in a very few minutes everyone
was drawing up their stools (it was all
three-legged stools in the Beavers' house
except for Mrs Beaver's own special rocking chair beside the fire) and preparing to
enjoy themselves. There was a jug of
creamy milk for the children (Mr Beaver
stuck to beer) and a great big lump of
deep yellow butter in the middle of the
table from which everyone took as much
as he wanted to go with his potatoes, and
all the children thought - and I agree
with them - that there's nothing to beat good
freshwater fish if you eat it when
it's been alive half an hour ago and
has come out of the pan half a minute
ago. And when they had finished the fish
Mrs Beaver brought unexpectedly out of
the oven a great and gloriously sticky
marmalade roll, steaming hot, and at the same time moved the kettle onto the fire, so
that when they'd finished the marmalade
roll the tea was made and ready to be
poured out. And when each person had got his (or her) cup of tea, each person shoved
back his (or her) stool so as to be able
to lean against the wall, and gave a long
sigh of contentment.'
Now that sequence which I cited, set me
thinking crossways in a few ways. As
I've said, it's a good meal.
It's rather like Mr Tumnus's tea. It's
wholesome. The food is shared. It's
prepared together. It's eaten together,
and indeed it's a scene of a meal in
which the children are going to have
another element of the sort of Destiny
of Narnia told them. It's a meal after
which crucial things are going to be
told. Old truths are going to be
remembered and the future is going to be
forged on the basis of those old truths
that are currently suppressed.
There's something very, I think, Christian in
Lewis's imagination about this kind of
meal. It's also, I think, a very
mid-century meal. Just like the sardines
on toast that happen at Mr Tumnus's
house. The idea of the fish and the
potatoes and the big lump of butter.
Butter of course, and I've been sort of
hammering on this point,
butter is rationed in this period so the
sight of a great big lump of butter is
luxurious but it's crucial the way they
treat it. It's not gobbled down like
the sticky Turkish Delight. It's not in
itself an unwholesome or luxurious food.
It's just a good chunk of good wholesome
food and it's shared. Everyone takes as
much as they want, but they take it in
the sight of everyone else. So
it's shared out equally and communally.
Also the fish. It's worth pointing out
the new freshly caught fish. Fish
were a problem in the 1940s and possibly
later than that, given the way supply
chains were disrupted during the war. People even ended up eating whale meat
and that sort of thing in Britain during
during the Second World War. So the idea
of fresh new fish, cooked, sizzling in a
pan and then served up with lots of
butter, though it might sound, perhaps
surprising, to us who see that as a sort
of sweetly quaint and sweetly
old-fashioned way of eating. It might
seem very luxurious and very delightful
to people reading at this time. There's
also, which is, I don't think is an influence
on Lewis, but it reminded me of the scenes
of eating in Three Men in a Boat, where
they open their tins and they eat and
there's good fellowship and they lean
back and smoke their pipes, sitting
against trees or against the boat.
There's something very Edwardian about
that scene somehow I haven't quite
managed to tie down what it is. Anyway it
reminded me of Jerome K. Jerome's work for some reason. And the general domesticity
of this sequence made me think. I joked
at the beginning about the idea that the
Beavers are the most important people in
the story. Perhaps they're not, but
they caught my imagination for some
reason and it reminded me of a passage
of one of Lewis's own essays about John
Bunyan and the Pilgrims Progress.
He's speculating about what caused
Bunyan to start writing this work and he
examines the poem at the beginning
of Pilgrims Progress and tries to
work out how the inspiration
struck. And goes on to say, 'perhaps we may
hazard a guess as to why it came just at
that moment. My own guess is that the
scheme of a journey with adventures,
suddenly reunited two things in Bunyan's
mind which two hitherto lain far apart.
One was his present and lifelong
pre-application with a spiritual life.
The other, far further away and longer
ago, left behind he had supposed in
childhood, was his delight in old wives
tales and such last remnants of
chivalric romance as he had found in
chat books. The one fitted the other like
a glove. Now as never before the whole
man was engaged. The vehicle he had
chosen, or more accurately the vehicle
that had chosen him, involved a sort of
descent. His high theme had to be brought
down and incarnated on the level and
adventure story of the most
unsophisticated type. A quest story with
lions, goblins, giants, dungeons and
enchantments. But then there is a further
descent. This adventure story itself is
not left in the world of high romance.
Whether by choice or by the fortunate
limits of Bunyan's imagination, probably a bit of both. It is all visualised in
terms of the contemporary life that
Bunyan knew. The garrulous neighbours, Mr
Worldly Wiseman, who was so clearly as
Christian said, a gentleman. The bullying,
foul-mouthed justice. The field path,
seductive to footstool walkers. The sound
of a dog barking as you stand knocking
at a door. The fruit hanging over a wall
which the children insist on eating
though their mother admonishes them,
that fruit is none of ours. These are all
characteristic and this holy immediacy
is not confined to externals.' Now I don't
know how about passage strikes you
but how it struck me was this is Lewis
talking about himself, or at least if
he's not literally talking about himself
I think anyone else might read that
passage and think, ah yes this is an
essay about C.S. Lewis, not an essay about
John Bunyan. The point that he
stresses about Bunyan's imagination, its
domesticity. The idea that the high theme
of theology is not only incarnated in a
straightforward adventure story but amongst straightforward people,
domestic and homely, I think gives us a
real clue as to where that particular
strand of Lewis's imagination might have
been, if not come from, might have been
nurtured and developed by his reading of
Bunyan and his thinking about Bunyan.
He later in the same essay goes into
ecstasies over a particular style. A
straightforward and homely style that
Bunyan uses, and if I can find it,
'these are said she our country birds.
They sing these notes but seldom accept
it be at the spring when the flowers
appear and the sun shines warm, then you
may hear them all day long. I often, said
she, go out to hear them.
We also oft times keep them tame in our
house. They're very fun company for us when we
are melancholy' and he praises the 
lyrical quality to this but also it's
sort of down-home and earthy and
straightforward way of writing. And then
he talks later about Mr Greathearts long story of Mr Fearing and
quotes this line, 'I will say that for my
Lord, he carried it wonderful lovingly to
him'. And in picking apart this, Lewis says
that there's no question of
sophistication or complexity here. There's a natural key in the
ear of Bunyan towards the
instinctive rhetoric of English speech.
He says 'there is some kink in the mind
of the English rustic, some innate
rhetoric that makes him talk that way.
You may hear it in country pubs any day'.
So, though I might have made some rather
hyperbolic claims about the Beavers which
I wouldn't like to back up in academic
argument, I think there is, they
really show a particular strain in
Lewis's imagination that I think
connects both to his conception of
fantastical literature and also for his
deep love of allegory and the Christian
tradition. I think there's a
strain of Bunyan in the way that the
Beavers talk and eat and work. Which by
some chance actually just sort of
appeared when I was reading it and
remembering Lewis's essays this week. So
the next chapter is, if I can find it,
What Happened After Dinner.
It runs from "And now," said Lucy, "do please
tell us what's happened to Mr Tumnus."
and it runs to "You're
right, Mrs Beaver," said her husband, "we
must all get away from here. There's not
a moment to lose." So I hope you'll leave
some of your ideas about this chapter
and some of the things you've been
reflecting on in the comments and I look
forward to talking to you about the next
chapter next time.
