Narnian Ba'alei Teshuva: Trumpkin

An interesting twist of teshuva or religious renewal is when the subject that instigated the renewal is itself not a believer. For some, renewal is sparked by the beauty of the Heavens, the intensity of an experience, or the intricacies of logic. In these situations there need not be a sentient being in the renewal process. However, in other situations it is a fellow human who helps or sparks the renewal. What happens if that fellow loses, or never held, the beliefs or religion that he caused to flower?

The mishna in Ethics of the Fathers addresses this point stating, “One who brings many to righteousness will not come to sin.” The gmara explains, “Such that he should not be in Hell while his students are in Heaven.” Not surprisingly, the commentaries wrestle with how this can be accorded with the doctrine of free will, but that is not our issue at the moment.

Lewis may be attempting to contend with this issue in Prince Caspian. To review, Caspian has long been emotionally attached to the stories of Old Narnia told by his Nurse, and is surprised and delighted when they are verified by Doctor Cornelius, his tutor. However, he is not sure of the continued existence of Old Narnia until his sudden flight from the royal castle ends at the home of actual Old Narnians: Trufflehunter the Badger, Trumpkin the Red Dwarf, and Nikabrik the Black Dwarf. It is in their home where we are witness to the following exchange:

"Do you believe all those old stories?" asked Trumpkin.

"I tell you, we don't change, we beasts," said Trufflehunter. "We don't forget. I believe in the High King Peter and the rest that reigned at Cair Paravel, as firmly as I believe in Aslan himself."

"As firmly as that, I dare say," said Trumpkin. "But who believes in Aslan nowadays?"

"I do," said Caspian. "And if I hadn't believed in him before, I would now. Back there among the Humans the people who laughed at Aslan would have laughed at stories about Talking Beasts and Dwarfs. Sometimes I did wonder if there really was such a person as Aslan: but then sometimes I wondered if there were really people like you. Yet there you are."

To Caspian, the mere existence of Old Narnia proves the existence of Aslan. But Trumpkin (and Nikabrik) themselves do not believe in Aslan.

The story of Caspian’s revolt unfolds very differently for two non-believing dwarves. Despite his (unwilling) role in bringing Caspian to the truth of Aslan, Nikabrik is unable to himself recognize Aslan. His arrogance and thirst for power ensure that he cannot trust and could never blindly follow another. Had Caspian met only Nikabrik his momentary belief in Aslan would likely have dissipated. Nikabrik hated Caspian, could not see the good in him, and therefore could never be a true teacher. Nikabrik’s Old Narnians would be no better than the conquering Telmarines.

Yet, even for Nikabrik all is not lost, as Caspian says, “I am sorry for Nikabrik though he hated me from the first moment he saw me. He had gone sour inside from long suffering and hating. If we had won quickly he might have become a good Dwarf in the days of peace.” Thus, Peter allows Nikabrik to be buried with his people.

Trumpkin, however, swears loyalty to Caspian and proves a worthy subject even when he disagrees with the king. Hence, he is willing to travel to Cair Paravel to search for assistance that may be divinely sent even though he doubts the possibility of such an event. He explains, “You are my King. I know the difference between giving advice and taking orders. You've had my advice, and now it's the time for orders.”

It is no wonder that Trumpkin is one of only three ‘valiant’ characters in the Chronicles! His bravery, trust, and child-like willingness to jump into the unknown pays great dividends. He meets the Pevensie children and eventually Aslan himself. Trumpkin’s properly placed loyalty to an earthly king allows him to actuate loyalty to the True King. The unwitting teacher became the trusted student.

Valiance: Who is the Intended Audience for the Chronicles?

Our discussion of valiance had led me to think (again) about Lewis' decision to write a series of stories for children. In a previous post I implied that Lewis did this to convey basic religious truths, themes, and principles to children. I further suggested that a Jewish Narnia should follow this path. 

Maybe that's not correct. Perhaps Lewis' goal was not to write a book for children, but a book for adults about children. 

Lewis comments on this directly in his dedication of Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. Writing to his god-daughter Lucy Barfield, he notes that girls grow more quickly than books, and that, by the time the book is in print, she will be too old for fairy tales. Nevertheless, he predicts, "some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. You can then take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think of it." 

Why do adults read fairy tales? And, more to the point, why would they read fairy tales about pre-teen children?    

In an effort to become, or remain, valiant. 

Children naturally display the necessary traits we have used to define valiance: enthusiasm, idealism, curiosity, trust, belief in a better future. Everything that adults have beaten out of themselves due to "real-life" prudence and planning. Why would an adult turn to a fairy tale if not to rekindle some of that spirit? Why would an adult read children's literature if not to revive in themselves idealism and hope for a brighter future?

Prof. Ward has eminently demonstrated that the theological messages of the Chronicles are already found in the Space Trilogy. Still one thing appears to me to be lacking (though I admit I need to think about this more): valiance.

Ransom is a fine character who overcomes spiritual and physical challenges to learn the truth about the universe. He is able to teach others and eventually saves the country/world from terrible evil. Is Ransom valiant? He shows persistence, perhaps even idealism and some bravery. But would he ever be confused with Reepicheep?

Does Ransom inspire in readers a renewal of spirit or simply an education of faith?

I think the answer is the latter, and that's why the Chronicles are necessary. 

Valiance: Lucy and Reepicheep

Over the last few posts we have analyzed what makes Lucy valiant. Two themes, likely coupled themes, emerged. The first is Lucy’s ability to retain the positive aspects of childhood: all-encompassing faith, fiery enthusiasm, and tireless curiosity, even as a mature adult. The second is gaiety as reflected in her positive outlook and enthusiasm for the future.

Yet, in our last post, we saw that gaiety on its own does not encompass valiance. In fact, Lewis contrasts gaiety with that which is “clear, sharp, and valiant.” Thus, while valiance does appear to incorporate many aspects of gaiety it also reflects a sense of clarity and perhaps even urgency

With this in hand we can now turn back to Reepicheep, the most valiant of all the beasts in Narnia. We have already noted Reepicheep’s complete lack of fear and we can perhaps now suggest where it comes from. Lack of fear is not a function of bravery, or even of strength. As R’ Soloveitchik said, “Only the child with his simple faith and fiery enthusiasm can make the miraculous leap into the bosom of God…” And once in the bosom of God, what is there to fear?

Furthermore, Reepicheep’s all encompassing faith enables his complete identification with God. A sign of cowardice, such as not sailing to the Dark Island, or betrayal, such as not searching for Eustace, would suggest that these characteristics reflect God. Reepicheep is assured of protection because God is the Great Protector. He will single-handedly take on a dragon or a sea serpent for nothing is too powerful for God. He is assured of success for even in a lost battle he adheres to the will of God.

Some final thoughts on this next time.

Gaiety and Valiance

Lucy, though grownup at the end of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, remains “gay and goldenhaired,” and is thus called Queen Lucy the Valiant. Therefore, if are to understand valiance in the character of Lucy, we must first define “gay.” 

Lewis uses the word “gay” 16 times in the Chronicles (and the word "gaiety" once). Six of those times are in The Silver Chair upon Puddleglum, Eustace, and Jill's discovery that the giants plan to eat them. Puddleglum directs the children to act “gay,” and gives us something of a definition: “Gay. As if we hadn't a care in the world.” Of course, as Lewis notes, Puddleglum, and Marsh-wiggles in general, are absolutely horrid at acting gay. In fact, they may be the exact opposite of "gay" given that Marsh-wiggles always expect the worst and act in direct opposition of carefree. 

Three times gay is used in the context of clothes. Perhaps clothes can also be carefree, but it’s difficult to imagine that Aravis, for example, when trying to trick her father into thinking how happy she was being engaged to Ahoshta, put on “her most carefree clothes.” Rather gay in this context presumably means the brightest, fanciest, and most merry clothes. This definition does not contradict the previous one, rather it explains that forces us to redefine carefree. Carefree does not mean not caring, but it means having an affectation of not caring because one is cheerful and optimistic. 

In Prince Caspian, the word gay is twice used with respect to flora: the rowans surrounding Aslan when he awakens the trees are called gay, and the hedges that Bacchus causes to sprout moments before they take down the bridge in Beruna are "gay with hawthorns." Both of these flora are colorful and bright and it would appear that “gay” here is used in the same way as with respect to clothes. 

Lewis also uses the word gay to describe wind (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader) and sound (The Horse and His Boy). The ship in the picture on the wall of Aunt Alberta’s back room (which becomes the Dawn Treader) runs before a “gay wind,” and King Lune’s hunting horn is “gay and merry.” In both of these cases the items in question presumably cause gaiety: the ship appears joyful as it sails along the waves, and the hunt is done with festivities and merriment. 

The final two occasions of the use of the description “gay” are connected with two of Narnia’s most important characters. Reepicheep, the most valiant of all beasts, is introduced as “a gay and martial mouse.” Finally, when Aslan reveals himself to Shasta in the Horse and His Boy he says “Myself,” in a voice that is “loud and clear and gay.” 

As a whole these examples suggest that “gay,” as used by Lewis in the Chronicles, means joyous, optimistic, and ready to face the future. Yet, this should not be conflated with frivolous or without seriousness (though Puddlieglum and the children likely tried to behave that in that way before the giants). After all, one would certainly not characterize Reepicheep, let alone Aslan himself, as frivolous. 

Lucy’s gaiety is what makes her so attractive to princes who value joy over graciousness, and optimism over courtliness. It is what made her so charming in the eyes of the people who saw gold in her hair. And it is what made her so beloved to Aslan in whom she placed the complete faith and devotion of a young child for a parent. 

However, “gay” alone is insufficient to characterize valiant. We see this because the two terms are also contrasted. The sound of the trumpets before King Edmund’s army on their its way to defend King Lune was “not huge and solemn like the horns of Tashbaan nor gay and merry like King Lune's hunting horn, but clear and sharp and valiant.” From this it appears that valiance has an aspect of sharpness, perhaps immediacy, that is lacking in gaiety. 

We will examine this further in our next post. 

Retaining Childhood

In our quest to define valiance we have temporarily shifted our focus from Reepicheep to Lucy. The adult Lucy was called Queen Lucy the Valiant it seems, because she always “remained gay and golden-haired.” Perhaps unlike the other Pevensies she did not change as she grew older, she retained childhood. This, I claimed, displays her valiance. However, to demonstrate this we must examine whether retaining childhood is desirable for religious man. 

The adult is too clever. Utility is his guiding light. The experience of God is unavailable to those approaching it with a businesslike attitude. Only the child can breach the boundaries that segregate the finite from the infinite. Only the child with his simple faith and fiery enthusiasm can make the miraculous leap into the bosom of God... When it came to faith, the giants of Torah, the geniuses of Israel, became little children, with all their ingenuousness, gracefulness, simplicity, their tremors of fear, their vivid experiences and their devotion to them... Whenever [Moses] fell before God, he cried like a child. Who can fall before his father, raise his eyes to him alone, to seek consolation and salvation, if not the child! ... The mature, the adult, are not capable of the all-embracing and all-penetrating outpouring of the soul. The most sublime crown we can give a great man sparkles with the gems of childhood. (Divrei Hagut Ve-ha'arakha, pp.159-160; in English: Shiurei Harav, pp.63-64)

In the above passage. R’ Joseph B. Soloveitchik speaks of the childlike nature necessary for one to truly trust, pray to, and devote themselves to God. An adult is too practical, too sophisticated. Only one with emotional purity and unbridled enthusiasm can reach out to the Infinite. 

And, indeed, Lucy’s childness reveals itself in just those occasions. When seeing Aslan for the first time in Prince Caspian, Lucy, “Never stopped to think whether he was a friendly lion or not. She rushed to him. She felt her heart would burst if she lost a moment.” Similarly, when Aslan reveals himself to Lucy in the Magician’s house in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader Lucy, “Ran forward with a little cry of delight and with her arms stretched out.” And finally, when unable to escape the Dark Island Lucy (and only Lucy) prays a childlike prayer, “Aslan, Aslan, if ever you loved us at all, send us help now.” Like a child demanding the purchase of a toy saying, “If you don’t buy it for me, it shows that you don’t love me.” 

But Aslan listens. Aslan rejoices in Lucy’s unbridled love, trust, and hope as a father rejoices in every action of his children. Therefore, at the end of time it is Lucy who, “was drinking everything in even more deeply than the others.” It was she who could integrate more fully into the true Narnia. 

Lewis himself notes the importance of retaining childhood at the end of the Silver Chair. In a parenthetical comment he notes, “Even in this world, of course, it is the stupidest children who are most childish and the stupidest grown-ups who are most grownup.” He expands on this in Mere Christianity:

[Christ] wants a child's heart, but a grown-up's head. He wants us to be simple, single-minded, affectionate, and teachable, as good children are; but He also wants every bit of intelligence we have to be alert at its job, and in first-class fighting trim. 

In An Experiment in Criticism Lewis enumerates other positive characteristics of childhood:

If we are to use the words ‘childish’ and ‘infantile’ as terms of disapproval, we must make sure that they refer only to those characteristics of childhood which we become better and happier by outgrowing. Who in his sense would not keep, if he could, that tireless curiosity, that intensity of imagination, that facility of suspending disbelief, that unspoiled appetite, that readiness to wonder, to pity, and to admire?”

Like R’ Soloveitchik, Lewis provides a list of childhood characteristics that have value, and should be held on to, even by a grownup. While not exactly the same, and perhaps disagreeing on R’ Soloveitchik’s tremors of fear, the lists appear to complement each other. 

Lucy, by not changing as she has grown up, presumably retains these characteristics. And indeed, we see manifestations of these characteristics even in the short time the Chronicles relate to Lucy as an adult. For example, in The Horse and His Boy it is Lucy who is willing to give Rabadash another chance and it is Lucy who retells the adventures of her and her siblings entrance into Narnia. In The Last Battle, it is Lucy who pities the dwarfs who cannot see the grandeur that surrounds them, and Lucy is the one described as “drinking everything in even more deeply than the others.” 

Our next step is then to determine how to concretize these characteristics into “valiance.” For this, we need to define one more term. In the context of her being titled Queen Lucy the Valiant we are told that she remains, “gay and golden-haired.” So, our next step is to understand how Lewis utilizes the term “gay.” 

Valiance (Part 2)

Valiance is a character trait that appears to be highly regarded by Lewis in the Chronicles of Narnia especially in the person of Reepicheep the Mouse. What is the definition of valiance and why is it important to the religious persona? Quite a while ago, we started to explore this question. Then, we noted that, minimally, one who is valiant is not scared. However, that alone is insufficient to define the term, or to explain the actions of Reepicheep, the most valiant of all beasts in Narnia. 

In this post we seek to further understand valiance by concentrating on another character conferred the title of valiant, Queen Lucy. The passage calling out Lucy’s valiance is from The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe:

But as for Lucy, she was always gay and golden-haired, and all princes in those parts desired her to be their Queen, and her own people called her Queen Lucy the Valiant.

Lucy’s valiance is manifest in that she is “always gay” and was the desire of many princes. This description of Lucy should be immediately contrasted with that of Susan. Susan is described as being, “a tall and gracious woman with black hair that fell almost to her feet and the kings of the countries beyond the sea began to send ambassadors asking for her hand in marriage.” Susan is gracious, while Lucy is gay. Susan is wanted by kings, and Lucy by princes. Why would kings want Susan and princes want Lucy? 

Lewis contrasts the roles of King and prince in the Horse and His Boy. In that story, Corin, surprisingly, rejoices at the appearance of his elder brother Cor exclaiming, “It’s princes that have all the fun.” King Lune agrees, explaining, “For this is what it means to be a king: to be first in every desperate attack and last in every desperate retreat…”

So, princes, who are out having fun and adventures would naturally want the happy and joyful Lucy. While kings, who have more serious jobs to do, would certainly rather be matched with the gracious Susan. Frankly, this comparison doesn’t look too good for Lucy. It’s almost like she’s not capable of being serious.

I think, however, Lewis has something else in mind. Lewis starts the description of the four children many years after the Great War with, “And they themselves grew and changed as the years passed over them.” Continuing with “And Peter…,” and again with “And Susan…” Then finishing with “But as for Lucy…” Why is Lucy “but” while the others are “and”? 

We are forced to say that while the other children grew and changed, Lucy did not. She remained gay and golden haired, she retained childhood. 

However, for Lewis, retaining childhood is not a negative. 

Quite the opposite, it’s valiant! 

More in my next post.