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THE FOUNDING OF NARNIA:
THE Lion was pacing to and fro about that empty land and singing his new
song. It was softer and more lilting than the song by which he had called up the
stars and the sun; a gentle, rippling music. And as he walked and sang the
valley grew green with grass. It spread out from the Lion like a pool. It ran up
the sides of the little hills like a wave. In a few minutes it was creeping up
the lower slopes of the distant mountains, making that young world every moment
softer. The light wind could now be heard ruffling the grass. Soon there were
other things besides grass. The higher slopes grew dark with heather. Patches of
rougher and more bristling green appeared in the valley. Digory did not know
what they were until one began coming up quite close to him. It was a little,
spiky thing that threw out dozens of arms and covered these arms with green and
grew larger at the rate of about an inch every two seconds. There were dozens of
these things all round him now. When they were nearly as tall as himself he saw
what they were. "Trees!" he exclaimed.
The nuisance of it, as Polly said afterwards, was that you weren't left in peace
to watch it all. Just as Digory said "Trees!" he had to jump because Uncle
Andrew had sidled up to him again and was going to pick his pocket. It wouldn't
have done Uncle Andrew much good if he had succeeded, for he was aiming at the
right-hand pocket because he still thought the green rings were "homeward"
rings. But of course Digory didn't want to lose either.
"Stop!" cried the Witch. "Stand back. No, further back. If anyone goes within
ten paces of either of the children, I will knock out his brains." She was
poising in her hand the iron bar that she had torn off the lamp-post, ready to
throw it. Somehow no one doubted that she would be a very good shot.
"So!" -she said. "You would steal back to your own world with the boy and leave
me here."
Uncle Andrew's temper at last got the better of his fears. "Yes, Ma'am, I
would," he said. "Most undoubtedly I would. I should be perfectly in my rights.
I have been most shamefully, most abominably treated. I have done my best to
show you such civilities as were in my power. And what has been my reward? You
have robbed - I must repeat the word robbed a highly respectable jeweller. You
have insisted on my entertaining you to an exceedingly expensive, not to say
ostentatious, lunch, though I was obliged to pawn my watch and chain in order to
do so (and let me tell you, Ma'am, that none of our family have been in the
habit of frequenting pawnshops, except my cousin Edward, and he was in the
Yeomanry). During that indigestible meal - I'm feeling the worse for it at this
very moment - your behaviour and conversation attracted the unfavourable
attention of everyone present. I feel I have been publicly disgraced. I shall
never be able to show my face in that restaurant again. You have assaulted the
police. You have stolen -"
"Oh stow it, Guv'nor, do stow it," said the Cabby. "Watchin' and listenin's the
thing at present; not talking."
There was certainly plenty to watch and to listen to. The tree which Digory had
noticed was now a full-grown beech whose branches swayed gently above his head.
They stood on cool, green grass, sprinkled with daisies and buttercups. A little
way off, along the river bank, willows were growing. On the other side tangles
of flowering currant, lilac, wild rose, and rhododendron closed them in. The
horse was tearing up delicious mouthfuls of new grass.
All this time the Lion's song, and his stately prowl, to and fro, backwards and
forwards, was going on. What was rather alarming was that at each turn he came a
little nearer. Polly was finding the song more and more interesting because she
thought she was beginning to see the connection between the music and the things
that were happening. When a line of dark firs sprang up on a ridge about a
hundred yards away she felt that they were connected with a series of deep,
prolonged notes which the Lion had sung a second before. And when he burst into
a rapid series of lighter notes she was not surprised to see primroses suddenly
appearing in every direction. Thus, with an unspeakable thrill, she felt quite
certain that all the things were coming (as she said) "out of the Lion's head".
When you listened to his song you heard the things he was making up: when you
looked round you, you saw them. This was so exciting that she had no time to be
afraid. But Digory and the Cabby could not help feeling a bit nervous as each
turn of the Lion's walk brought him nearer. As for Uncle Andrew, his teeth were
chattering, but his knees were shaking so that he could not run away.
Suddenly the Witch stepped boldly out towards the Lion. It was coming on, always
singing, with a slow, heavy pace. It was only twelve yards away. She raised her
arm and flung the iron bar straight at its head.
Nobody, least of all Jadis, could have missed at that range. The bar struck the
Lion fair between the eyes. It glanced off and fell with a thud in the grass.
The Lion came on. Its walk was neither slower nor faster than before; you could
not tell whether it even knew it had been hit. Though its soft pads made no
noise, you could feel the earth shake beneath their weight.
The Witch shrieked and ran: in a few moments she was out of sight among the
trees. Uncle Andrew turned to do likewise, tripped over a root, and fell flat on
his face in a little brook that ran down to join the river. The children could
not move. They were not even quite sure that they wanted to. The Lion paid no
attention to them. Its huge red mouth was open, but open in song not in a snarl.
It passed by them so close that they could have touched its mane. They were
terribly afraid it would turn and look at them, yet in some queer way they
wished it would. But for all the notice it took of them they might just as well
have been invisible and unsmellable. When it had passed them and gone a few
paces further it turned, passed them again, and continued its march eastward.
Uncle Andrew, coughing and spluttering, picked himself up.
"Now, Digory," he said, "we've got rid of that woman, and the brute of a lion is
gone. Give me your hand and put on your ring at once."
"Keep off," said Digory, backing away from him. "Keep clear of him, Polly. Come
over here beside me. Now I warn you, Uncle Andrew, don't come one step nearer,
we'll just vanish."
"Do what you're told this minute, sir," said Uncle Andrew. "You're an extremely
disobedient, ill-behaved little boy."
"No fear," said Digory. "We want to stay and see what happens. I thought you
wanted to know about other worlds. Don't you like it now you're here?"
"Like it!" exclaimed Uncle Andrew. "Just look at the state I'm in. And it was my
best coat and waistcoat, too." He certainly was a dreadful sight by now: for of
course, the more dressed up you were to begin with, the worse you look after
you've crawled out of a smashed hansoncab and fallen into a muddy brook. "I'm
not saying," he added, "that this is not a most interesting place. If I were a
younger man, now - perhaps I could get some lively young fellow to come here
first. One of those big-game hunters. Something might be made of this country.
The climate is delightful. I never felt such air. I believe it would have done
me good if - if circumstances had been more favourable. If only we'd had a gun."
"Guns be blowed," said the Cabby. "I think I'll go and see if I can give
Strawberry a rub down. That horse 'as more sense than some 'umans as I could
mention." He walked back to Strawberry and began making the hissing noises that
grooms make.
"Do you still think that Lion could be killed by a gun?" asked Digory. "He
didn't mind the iron bar much."
"With all her faults," said Uncle Andrew, "that's a plucky gel, my boy. It was a
spirited thing to do." He rubbed his hands and cracked his knuckles, as if he
were once more forgetting how the Witch frightened him whenever she was really
there.
"It was a wicked thing to do," said Polly. "What harm had he done her?"
"Hullo! What's that?" said Digory. He had darted forward to examine something
only a few yards away. "I say, Polly," he called back. "Do come and look."
Uncle Andrew came with her; not because he wanted to see but because he wanted
to keep close to the children there might be a chance of stealing their rings.
But when he saw what Digory was looking at, even he began to take an interest.
It was a perfect little model of a lamp-post, about three feet high but
lengthening, and thickening in proportion, as they watched it; in fact growing
just as the trees had grown.
"It's alive too - I mean, it's lit," said Digory. And so it was; though of
course, the brightness of the sun made the little flame in the lantern hard to
see unless your shadow fell on it.
"Remarkable, most remarkable," muttered Uncle Andrew. "Even I never dreamt of
Magic like this. We're in a world where everything, even a lamp-post, comes to
life and grows. Now I wonder what sort of seed a lamppost grows from?"
"Don't you see?" said Digory. "This is where the bar fell - the bar she tore off
the lamp-post at home. It sank into the ground and now it's coming up as a young
lamppost." (But not so very young now; it was as tall as Digory while he said
this.)
"That's it! Stupendous, stupendous," said Uncle Andrew, rubbing his hands harder
than ever. "Ho, ho! They laughed at my Magic. That fool of a sister of mine
thinks I'm a lunatic. I wonder what they'll say now? I have discovered a world
where everything is bursting with life and growth. Columbus, now, they talk
about Columbus. But what was America to this? The commercial possibilities of
this country are unbounded. Bring a few old bits of scrap iron here, bury 'em,
and up they come as brand new railway engines, battleships, anything you please.
They'll cost nothing, and I can sell 'em at full prices in England. I shall be a
millionaire. And then the climate! I feel years younger already. I can run it as
a health resort. A good sanatorium here might be worth twenty thousand a year.
Of course I shall have to let a few people into the secret. The first thing is
to get that brute shot."
"You're just like the Witch," said Polly. "All you think of is killing things."
"And then as regards oneself," Uncle Andrew continued, in a happy dream.
"There's no knowing how long I might live if I settled here. And that's a big
consideration when a fellow has turned sixty. I shouldn't be surprised if I
never grew a day older in this country! Stupendous! The land of youth!"
"Oh!" cried Digory. "The land of youth! Do you think it really is?" For of
course he remembered what Aunt Letty had said to the lady who brought the
grapes, and that sweet hope rushed back upon him. "Uncle Andrew", he said, "do
you think there's anything here that would cure Mother?"
"What are you talking about?" said Uncle Andrew. "This isn't a chemist's shop.
But as I was saying -"
"You don't care twopence about her," said Digory savagely. "I thought you might;
after all, she's your sister as well as my Mother. Well, no matter. I'm jolly
well going to ask the Lion himself if he can help me." And he turned and walked
briskly away. Polly waited for a moment and then went after him.
"Here! Stop! Come back! The boy's gone mad," said Uncle Andrew. He followed the
children at a cautious distance behind; for he didn't want to get too far away
from the green rings or too near the Lion.
In a few minutes Digory came to the edge of the wood and there he stopped. The
Lion was singing still. But now the song had once more changed. It was more like
what we should call a tune, but it was also far wilder. It made you want to run
and jump and climb. It made you want to shout. It made you want to rush at other
people and either hug them or fight them. It made Digory hot and red in the
face. It had some effect on Uncle Andrew, for Digory could hear him saying, "A
spirited gel, sir. It's a pity about her temper, but a dem fine woman all the
same, a dem fine woman." But what the song did to the two humans was nothing
compared with what it was doing to the country.
Can you imagine a stretch of grassy land bubbling like water in a pot? For that
is really the best description of what was happening. In all directions it was
swelling into humps. They were of very different sizes, some no bigger than
mole-hills, some as big as wheel-barrows, two the size of cottages. And the
humps moved and swelled till they burst, and the crumbled earth poured out of
them, and from each hump there came out an animal. The moles came out just as
you might see a mole come out in England. The dogs came out, barking the moment
their heads were free, and struggling as you've seen them do when they are
getting through a narrow hole in a hedge. The stags were the queerest to watch,
for of course the antlers came up a long time before the rest of them, so at
first Digory thought they were trees. The frogs, who all came up near the river,
went straight into it with a plop-plop and a loud croaking. The panthers,
leopards and things of that sort, sat down at once to wash the loose earth off
their hind quarters and then stood up against the trees to sharpen their front
claws. Showers of birds came out of the trees. Butterflies fluttered. Bees got
to work on the flowers as if they hadn't a second to lose. But the greatest
moment of all was when the biggest hump broke like a small earthquake and out
came the sloping back, the large, wise head, and the four baggy-trousered legs
of an elephant. And now you could hardly hear the song of the Lion; there was so
much cawing, cooing, crowing, braying, neighing, baying, barking, lowing,
bleating, and trumpeting.
But though Digory could no longer hear the Lion, he could see it. It was so big
and so bright that he could not take his eyes off it. The other animals did not
appear to be afraid of it. Indeed, at that very moment, Digory heard the sound
of hoofs from behind; a second later the old cab-horse trotted past him and
joined the other beasts. (The air had apparently suited him as well as it had
suited Uncle Andrew. He no longer looked like the poor, old slave he had been in
London; he was picking up his feet and holding his head erect.) And now, for the
first time, the Lion was quite silent. He was going to and fro among the
animals. And every now and then he would go up to two of them (always two at a
time) and touch their noses with his. He would touch two beavers among all the
beavers, two leopards among all the leopards, one stag and one deer among all
the deer, and leave the rest. Some sorts of animal he passed over altogether.
But the pairs which he had touched instantly left their own kinds and followed
him. At last he stood still and all the creatures whom he had touched came and
stood in a wide circle around him. The others whom he had not touched began to
wander away. Their noises faded gradually into the distance. The chosen beasts
who remained were now utterly silent, all with their eyes fixed intently upon
the Lion. The cat-like ones gave an occasional twitch of the tail but otherwise
all were still. For the first time that day there was complete silence, except
for the noise of running water. Digory's heart beat wildly; he knew something
very solemn was going to be done. He had not forgotten about his Mother; but he
knew jolly well that, even for her, he couldn't interrupt a thing like this.
The Lion, whose eyes never blinked, stared at the animals as hard as if he was
going to burn them up with his mere stare. And gradually a change came over
them. The smaller ones - the rabbits, moles and such-like grew a good deal
larger. The very big ones - you noticed it most with the elephants - grew a
little smaller. Many animals sat up on their hind legs. Most put their heads on
one side as if they were trying very hard to understand. The Lion opened his
mouth, but no sound came from it; he was breathing out, a long, warm breath; it
seemed to sway all the beasts as the wind sways a line of trees. Far overhead
from beyond the veil of blue sky which hid them the stars sang again; a pure,
cold, difficult music. Then there came a swift flash like fire (but it burnt
nobody) either from the sky or from the Lion itself, and every drop of blood
tingled in the children's bodies, and the deepest, wildest voice they had ever
heard was saying:
"Narnia, Narnia, Narnia, awake. Love. Think. Speak. Be walking trees. Be talking
beasts. Be divine waters."
