A return to Narnia was promised the Pevensie children when they left at the end of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, and they don’t have too long to wait until that promise is fulfilled. Prince Caspian, the second novel in the series, starts with a boring train journey back to school (it is one of those golden rules of 1950s children’s literature that all children attend boarding school) being interrupted by a magical summons to Narnia.

Not that they realise at first where they are, because they end up on a beach on an overgrown island, with no obvious signs of the thriving civilisation they left behind. They explore the island and find the ruins of an old castle. One of the many pleasures of the novel is the dawning realisation for both the children and the reader (hopefully the reader catches on slightly earlier than the children) that the ruin is of Cair Paravel, where they once ruled as Kings and Queens of Narnia. Cair Paravel is not described in any detail in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, but it was home to the children for many years, so the ruins are familiar to them if not us. They quickly explore the castle and find their magical treasures (gifts from Father Christmas you will recall) in an old vault.

Susan’s magical horn, used for summoning help, is missing, as she left it in the woods the day they returned to England at the end of The Lion. We find out later that the horn is what has summonsed the children back to Narnia, which is in crisis. While trying to leave the island and work out why Cair Paravel is now a deserted ruin, they see a row-boat. In it two soldiers are bringing a dwarf to be executed on the isolated island. They rescue him, and from him hear the tale within the tale of Prince Caspian. This involves a short history lesson covering the millennium since they were last in Narnia. (The fact that everyone they knew is long dead isn’t mentioned!) The land has been conquered by men from a neighbouring country, Telmarine and is ruled by evil King Miraz, who took the throne by killing his brother, King Caspian IX. Shades of Hamlet there do you think? The rightful heir, Prince Caspian, was brought up to be king because Miraz did not have a son, but once one was born, Caspian’s life was in immediate danger.

Caspian is a romantic teenager who has been brought up being told what he thinks are fairy stories about Old Narnia, in which animals can talk and where magical creatures such as centaurs and giants exist. Lewis cleverly has Caspian share the readers longing for this impossible world. Caspian flees for his life, and once in the forest meets Trufflehunter, a talking badger, and two dwarfs, Nikabrik and Trumpkin. They introduce him to the surviving Old Narnians, hiding in the forest in isolated communities. They use Susan’s magical horn, rescued by Caspian’s tutor, Doctor Cornelius, but any help they summon is slow to arrive. There is a snatch of dialogue from the debate about whether to use the horn or not that stayed with me for decades. One character advises against using the horn, on the basis that things may get even worse in the days to come.

“If your Majesty is ever to use the Horn,” said Trufflehunter, “I think the time has now come.” …. “We are certainly in great need,” answered Caspian. “But it is hard to be sure we are at our greatest. Supposing there came an even worse need and we had already used it?”

“By that argument,” said Nikabrik, “your Majesty will never use it until it is too late.”

Interesting that these words of wisdom come from Nikabrik, who is later proven to not be a true friend of Narnia.

The third section of the novel tells of the children’s journey to meet up with Caspian’s forces as he tries to hold the line against Miraz and his army. This is a long and difficult trek, and the novel flags a bit at this point. Aslan appears to the children, but only Lucy can see him, a sign of the strength of her faith. Aslan isn’t going to help out as freely as he did in the battle against the White Witch. In a scene very reminiscent of the summoning of the Ents in Lord of the Rings, Aslan calls to life the sleeping spirits of the Narnian trees:

What Lucy and Susan saw was a dark something coming to them from almost every direction across the hills. It looked first like a black mist creeping on the ground, then like the stormy waves of a black sea rising higher and higher as it came on, and then, at last, like what it was—woods on the move. All the trees of the world appeared to be rushing towards Aslan. But as they drew nearer they looked less like trees, and when the whole crowd, bowing and curtsying and waving thin long arms to Aslan, were all around Lucy, she saw that it was a crowd of human shapes. Pale birch-girls were tossing their heads, willow-women pushed back their hair from their brooding faces to gaze on Aslan, the queenly beeches stood still and adored him, shaggy oak-men, lean and melancholy elms, shock-headed hollies (dark themselves, but their wives all bright with berries) and gay rowans, all bowed and rose again, shouting, “Aslan, Aslan!” in their various husky or creaking or wave-like voices.

The novel’s climax comes with battle between the forces of true Narnia and the Telmarines – which is never going to end well for the Talmarines. The natural order is quickly and joyously restored, and Aslan opens another magic door back to the children’s world. Peter and Susan are told they will not be coming back to Narnia. This was a poignant moment in any of the novels, more about growing up than loss of faith, but the reader is comforted by the consolation that they will be able to return no matter what their age!

The religious symbolism in the novel is kept carefully under check but Lewis is less careful to disguise his traditionalist world view. This emerges most clearly in the strange scenes when Aslan, accompanied by Pan and Bacchus and their entourage, process through the towns and villages instead of joining the battle against Miraz and his army. These are quite long quotes, but the small-mindedness emerges in little ways – notice how the unpleasant people are all fat, ugly and pig-like:

“The first house they came to was a school: a girls’ school, where a lot of Narnian girls, with their hair done very tight and ugly tight collars round their necks and thick tickly stockings on their legs, were having a history lesson. The sort of “History” that was taught in Narnia under Miraz’s rule was duller than the truest history you ever read and less true than the most exciting adventure story. “If you don’t attend, Gwendolen,” said the mistress, “and stop looking out of the window, I shall have to give you an order-mark.” “But please, Miss Frizzle——” began Gwendolen. “Did you hear what I said, Gwendolen?” asked Miss Frizzle. “But please, Miss Frizzle,” said Gwendolen, “there’s a LION!”

“Take two order-marks for talking nonsense,” said Miss Frizzle. “And now——” A roar interrupted her. Ivy came curling in at the windows of the classroom. The walls became a mass of shimmering green, and leafy branches arched overhead where the ceiling had been. Miss Frizzle found she was standing on grass in a forest glade. She clutched at her desk to steady herself, and found that the desk was a rose-bush. Wild people such as she had never even imagined were crowding round her. Then she saw the Lion, screamed and fled, and with her fled her class, who were mostly dumpy, prim little girls with fat legs. Gwendolen hesitated.

“You’ll stay with us, sweetheart?” said Aslan.

“Oh, may I? Thank you, thank you,” said Gwendolen. Instantly she joined hands with two of the Maenads, who whirled her round in a merry dance and helped her take off some of the unnecessary and uncomfortable clothes that she was wearing.

It’s that stripping of unnecessary and uncomfortable clothes that doesn’t feel right in a children’s novel, least of all a Christian allegory – I don’t think it is simply Gwendolen’s ‘comfort’ the maenads have in mind! Gwendolen isn’t the only person to be liberated from a boring school:

At a little town half-way to Beaversdam, where two rivers met, they came to another school, where a tired-looking girl was teaching arithmetic to a number of boys who looked very like pigs. She looked out of the window and saw the divine revellers singing up the street and a stab of joy went through her heart. Aslan stopped right under the window and looked up at her.

“Oh, don’t, don’t,” she said. “I’d love to. But I mustn’t. I must stick to my work. And the children would be frightened if they saw you.”

“Frightened?” said the most pig-like of the boys. “Who’s she talking to out of the window? Let’s tell the inspector she talks to people out of the window when she ought to be teaching us.”

“Let’s go and see who it is,” said another boy, and they all came crowding to the window. But as soon as their mean little faces looked out, Bacchus gave a great cry of Euan, euoi-oi-oi-oi and the boys all began howling with fright and trampling one another down to get out of the door and jumping out of the windows. And it was said afterwards (whether truly or not) that those particular little boys were never seen again, but that there were a lot of very fine little pigs in that part of the country which had never been there before.

“Now, Dear Heart,” said Aslan to the Mistress: and she jumped down and joined them.

I don’t think these scenes need to be taken too seriously – Lewis is obviously just having some fun mixing his mythologies – but they were (understandably) deleted from the film of the novel, which focussed instead and at length on the battle which in these scenes is happening elsewhere. Lewis was to return time after time to the issue of ‘modern’ schooling methods, most notably in The Silver Chair – perhaps it was a sensitive subject for him, or perhaps he thought it would appeal to his readers.

Enough nostalgia for now – back to some grown-up novels from the ever-growing ‘To Be Read’ list!

PS I just read an excellent three-word review of this novel on Goodreads: “Hamlet with badgers”!!