Aslan on Stage (Part IV)

Now we get to the last part of this series, where I’ll look at what Aslan could be, or might be, in some future production.

Take the costume sketch above. This Aslan stands apart from all we’ve seen before, the concept part African and part Indonesian or maybe Ceylonese. He brings to mind the Indian monkey god Hanuman. As is standard the designer included some fabric samples stapled to the corner.

An 18th-century military or pirate look would be nice too. This was a design for another play that had a lion character, but it could work well for Aslan.

Or perhaps the production decides on a Scottish, rather than British, feel?

Or one in which Narnia is stuck in the Tudor Age? Though I can’t see Aslan slouching so nonchalantly on a throne.

Here’s an Aslan that might work for The Horse and His Boy, which had an “Oriental” (Turkish / Indian / Middle East) setting of Calormen. The girl might be Aravis.

Most artwork of warrior lion men was too full of bared teeth, battle fury, and oversized weaponry to convey a convincing Aslan, but this character is thoughtful and sedate.

The world of furry and anthro art opens up more possibilities. This is a nice tribal fantasy look for Aslan, with or without the lion face.

And who says Aslan has to be a male, even? This getup might do nicely for a gender-swapped version. One might have a White Warlock instead of a witch.

With some time and patience, it’s always possible to create your own Aslan costume with some discarded cardboard, glue, and a utility knife.

Worldbuilding Wednesday 7/6/22: Narnian Desserts (Narnia XXXV)

Turkish Delight, as it might have been presented by The White Witch

Turkish Delight is THE most iconic dessert, and most iconic food, of all the books in the Chronicles of Narnia, and I’ll put it up there with Lembas as the most iconic fantasy food, period. In fact, most people today would have never heard of it if not for The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It would have been relegated to the island of Lost Desserts, like Lady Baltimore Cake and syllabub.

In the book it works as a symbol of temptation, addicting Edward, warping his judgment, and binding him to the witch. And so from how it’s presented most readers would think it’s something super special. But the sad news is, it isn’t. Basically, it’s a semisolid gel, cut into small squares, made from a syrup of starch and sugar, and flavored with various foods of the East: rosewater, bergamot orange, pistachio, dates, walnuts, hazelnuts. The squares, when solid enough to be cut, are dusted with powdered sugar or the like to prevent clinging to each other. Not very appetizing to me. Liberty Orchards of Cashmere, Washington used a similar recipe to create their version, which is widely sold to tourists visiting Washington state. It’s OK, but not worth selling your soul to a witch for.

So, why did Lewis choose this, and not, say, strawberry shortcake or chocolate pudding? It could have been  something he enjoyed in his younger days, and in post-WWII Britain, when the book was written, it likely wasn’t available because of the austerity rations which lasted until 1958. In my opinion, though, it just sounded exotic —  exotic and old-fashioned enough for an inhumanly beautifully White Witch. In other words, an indulgence in Orientalism, which Lewis returned to later with the introduction of the nation of Calormen.

There are other sweets and desserts mentioned in the books, but all are resoundingly British. There are no candy bars, no cookies or eclairs or strudels. There are  fruits endemic to Western Europe (no pineapple or mango), dried dates and figs, marmalades, a sugar-cake, puddings, pies, ice cream, fools, ices, and jellies. Some scholars think this is Lewis’s longing for the lost sweets of his youth: “I myself like eating and drinking, I put in what I would have liked to read when I was a child and what I still like reading now that I am in my fifties.”

Since the movies came  out there’s been an explosion of fan-created recipes, as well as recipe books both official and unofficial.

What desserts might have been served in Narnia by the Narnians themselves, AND be something C. S. Lewis would liked to have eaten? Here’s a randomgenned list.

 

Narnian Desserts

Archenlandean berry biscuits

Caspian’s malted syrup

Chivalry pudding

Coronation cocoa rolls

Dryads’ Cake covered with flower petals from Aslan’s Country

Dufflepud shortbread

Father Christmas’s nutmeg breakfast rolls

Flaming Phoenix jellies

Goat milk sherbert from Tehishbaan

Jewel the Unicorn’s biscuits drizzled in diamond-juice glaze from Bism

King Edmund’s crunchy wafers

Maenad spongecake, served with a sweet wine of Archenland

Milk pudding from Glenstorm the Centaur

Mrs. Beaver’s spiced lemon curd tartlet

Narnian buttermilk bread served with barley sugar ice cream

Queen Helen’s apple and clotted cream biscuits

Queen Susan’s butterhorns

Seafarer’s treacle from The Dawn Treader

Sorloisian camel bread

Strawberry and gooseberry whip from Ramandu’s Island

Tapioca of the Stars’ Great Dance

Telmarine whiskey pudding

Terabinthian spice cake

The White Witch’s scarlet ice

Toffee-fruit bars served at Queen Lucy’s birthday

Tournament buns from Galma

Tumnus’ sweet rum butter shortbread

Winter white chocolate layer cake

Witch Country guardian apple dumplings

Wizard’s ripple ice with plumberries

Aslan on Stage (Part III)

The medium of dance calls for a different approach to the character. In the ballet version of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the characters do not speak and convey motion only with their bodies. This Aslan  has a more catlike costume, but one that can let him move freely, at least as well as he can with that oversized lion headpiece. Then again, most Nutcrackers and Rat Kings dance competently despite the bulkiness of their getups. Aslan’s tail is long and free, allowing it to lash and twirl around when he dances.

This Aslan dancer is more stylized, with bare legs and feet, fur around his wrists, neck, and head, and a superhero-like costume. (Well, Aslan IS a superhero of a sort.) The tattoos are likely the dancer’s.

Another dynamic Aslan dancer, with three dryads, a leopardess, and an eagle behind him.

There are variations in staging even in the world of dance. This version of the ballet was a street / hip hop one, with sneakers, braids, and sweatpants for Aslan as he battles The White Witch.

As with play versions, some directors judge it better to have Aslan represented by a puppet. Here some dancers are putting him through his paces during practice. The wire and silk construction ensures he won’t be too heavy to carry.

How the puppet worked in the Stone Table scene. The dancers around the table I guess to be the hags, haunts, and werewolves of the story, the evil crowd. But here it’s obvious they’re played by dancers who were in previous scenes, wearing baggy black robes to disguise the costumes they can’t change in and out of. Aslan seems to be giving them a skeptical look. “Really? Is that the best you can do?”

The Dragon Quintet [Reading Challenge 2022]


The Dragon Quintet

Edited by Marvin Kaye
Featuring Orson Scott Card, Mercedes Lackey, Tanith Lee, Elizabeth Moon, and Michael Swanwick
Tor Fantasy, 2006

[ Challenge # 50: A book you started last year and haven’t yet finished. ]

I bought this book a number of years ago because I love dragons, but I never got around to reading it. Last year, 2021, I slated it for my annual Author’s Water Cooler Reading Challenge and started it while on a camping trip to the North Cascades. But, I never finished it that year. This year, I put it back on the list, and finally finished it on another camping trip at the very noisy Deception Pass State Park, in a campsite that was way too close to the highway and the Tomcat jets of the Whidbey Island Naval Air Base. Usually, when a book takes this long to finish, it means it isn’t very good.

The anthology consisted of five “short novels” by acclaimed voices in fantasy fiction, though to me they felt more novelette-sized. IMO most would have been OK with a shorter treatment. Two of the stories were annoying, one disappointing, one all right but nothing special compared to the author’s other work, and one I enjoyed. So it was a mixed bag. The theme was, of course, a dragon or dragons were the central focus, but each author treated it differently.

Continue reading

Stilettopaws

In an alternate movie universe, Tilda Swinton the White Witch wore shoes made from Aslan into battle, not his hair.

Worldbuilding Wednesday 6/29/22: More Narnian Magic (Narnia XXXIV)

Queen Susan's Horn, by Kurt van der Basch

Queen Susan’s Horn, by Kurt van der Basch

Magic is everywhere in Narnia; yet the characters don’t use it in the way the Harry Potter kids use it, or even how a party in a fantasy RPG would use it. Only in the first book is magic used fluently and for purpose by the main characters, in form of Peter’s sword and shield, Susan’s horn and bow, and Lucy’s healing cordial, all of which were gifts to them from Father Christmas.

In the rest of the series magic, unless used by Aslan or his minions, is a thing with dangerous or sinister connotations. Caspian’s half-dwarf teacher makes it clear he’s bucking the tide by saying even a simple spell, and Lucy gets in trouble in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader when she is tempted by the spells in Coriakin’s magic book and the alluring look the sea-girl shepherdess gives her. The rest of the crew narrowly escapes being turned to gold on Deathwater Island and they are later tormented inside the black cloud of the Isle of Dreams. Even the magic feast on Ramandu’s island seems sinister, until it’s OK’d by Reepicheep. (This is another reason why I dislike that mouse. If the Star’s daughter had been merely average looking, would he have ascribed to her such virtue?) Later, the Green Witch’s magic enchants Rilian and nearly enspells Jill, Eustace and Puddleglum into dull acceptance of the never-ending Underdark. In The Last Battle, even Aslan’s magic is made out to be a fraud, by Shift, Puzzle, Ginger, and Rishda. And let’s not forget Jadis and the most powerful magic of all, The Deplorable Word. (There was no magic in The Horse and His Boy, unless you count the Hermit’s scrying-pool which is more of a plot device to tell the reader what’s going on with the battle.) Anyway, the trajectory is clear, particularly if you take into account Lewis finished The Magician’s Nephew after The Last Battle.

Magic means bad news, unless you’re Aslan. Wizards, witches, and magicians in Narnia are to be avoided and not sat down with for tea.

That said, if you want magic in Narnia, here’s more randomgenned spells.

 

More Narnian Magic for an RPG

Rejuvenating Green Elixer: An emerald green potion made from the essence of the bark, leaves, and water pools of the Wood between the Worlds. A single sip carries the drinker to that place.

Queen Swanwhite’s Cape: A powerful relic of pre-White Witch Narnia that was forever lost after Jadis came to power. This cape was made from the white down feathers of Narnian seabirds. It granted awe-inspiring beauty to the wearer and the ability to leave a reflection for a year and a day in any pool of water… a reflection that also acted as an extra set of eyes and ears to eavesdrop on everything around it.

Hornpipe of Trumpkin: Makes even the dourest and stodgiest of dwarves get up and dance when played.

The Terrible Dank of the Underdark: Makes a room and anything in it smell mildewed and moldy. The temperature will be lowered and the air feel damp and chilly. Any light in it is shadowed or works at half efficacy. Altogether the spell creates an atmosphere of gloom and despair.

Sallowpad’s Wondrous Physic: A potion invented by the Raven sage to bring stamina to the body and mental fortitude to the mind, enabling the drinker to travel up to three days without food or rest.

Naiad Hood: When thrown over the head the wearer looks like a naiad version of themselves and gives them swimming and diving ability.

Brittle Portal: There are many doors, both permanent and temporary, into Narnia from other worlds. This spell disrupts one of those doors so it works intermittently or none at all.

Poison Bow: An evil being created this weapon, which is an exact likeness of Queen Susan’s bow. But any creature that uses it even once is horribly poisoned as if from snakebite.

King Edmund’s Circlet: This magical crown was lost after the Pevensies left Narnia. It granted the wearer skill and grace in battle and also the skill to negotiate an effective truce.

Golden Almanac Of Queen Lucy: Another lost item. This book detailed everything that happened in Narnia during Queen Lucy’s reign. It doesn’t contain magic, but magic leaves it preserved.

Wooden Fruit: Makes any kind of fruit the recipient eats taste bitter, hard, and woody.

Yoke of The North: A spell developed by the witches who dwell in that area to force others to serve them.

Father Christmas’s Lapdog: This is a special gift given by Father Christmas to those who are in the depths of despair and feeling all alone. The Lapdog is a magic beast with silky, pale gold hair and large brown eyes. It is intelligent, but not a Talking Beast. It gives companionship and comfort to those who need it most and raises their courage and ability to endure.

The Tisroc’s Libram of the Western Mountains: In Tashbaan this jewel-studded book with golden covers and elaborate illustrations lists everything that is to know about this area of the Narnian continent. Unfortunately, 75% of it is either false or distorted. It’s up to the reader to decide. The book is magic in that it won’t open until the reader recites a spell praising Tash, which would be anathema to Narnians.

Aslan on Stage (Part II)

Liz Crowther as Lucy and Bernard Kay as Aslan on the set of the 1967 television production of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe

In Part I we got to see a few examples of a puppet Aslan that served as the character in a staged version; now I’ll talk about the human-actor Aslan.

Though puppet Aslan has the advantage of looking grand and mystical — especially accompanied by specialty lighting and sound effects — its use limits Aslan as a character. He’s relegated to a background role. He can’t romp with Lucy and Susan or be bound and stabbed by the White Witch on the Stone Table. (How the puppet managed the latter I’m not sure — maybe it was in silhouette?) Neither can he convey a lot of emotion with his limited movements, leaving it up to the voice actor. Thus, some productions choose to have him played by a human actor.

The photo from the top is from the first dramatization of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which was a British ITV version from 1967, a mere four years after Lewis’s passing. Sadly, only a few minutes of the show remain, as it was customary at the time for the BBC to film over old videotapes. (That the older episodes of Monty Python were preserved at all was a stroke of luck.) I am not wowed by this dolorous dog-faced boy depiction. It looks like it would really hurt to peel all that hair off after the day’s filming.

So, most productions opt for an Aslan that only suggests he is a lion, usually with brown and gold clothing,  a manelike wig, and accents of fur. Human Aslan, in these pictures, is full of masculine strength and vitality with a touch of human Rock Star.

One costume you do NOT want is this pajama look for Aslan, no matter how young the audience.

Then there’s the Aslan based after the Broadway musical version of Disney’s The Lion King which combines both actor and puppet: the actor wears a headpiece of a lion’s head which is dominant in their appearance but static, while conveying movement and action with their human body.

I think this “double head” version is quite effective, once you get over the initial shock of two faces.

This one is more African-inspired and clearly cribbed from the Disney musical. This might be the moment Aslan shows Peter the distant castle of Cair Paravel and tells him one day it will be his, though Aslan is grinning too giddily for my taste.

A pudgy-faced, scowling Aslan in a very Christlike robe, and an actor with a touch of Jesus in him as well.

This Aslan, from a new, post-COVID, British production (as of May 2022) has both a human actor AND a lion puppet,  the two moving in tandem I expect. The set design is noteworthy too, the “portal” nature of the fantasy suggested by the circular opening in the back, which can also serve as a sun or moon.

Aslan on Stage (Part I)

Poster for one of the many stage productions

When comparing Tolkien to Lewis, Lewis wins in the theatrical department. Every year, around the world, theater groups are tackling The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, creating different interpretations of the same text by their choices of costume, casting, lighting and sets. I can’t see anyone staging The Fellowship of the Ring the same way, even if the trustees of the books would let them. Lewis has the flexibility of being so out-there with his elements of fantasy that audiences have no choice than to be accepting of the stage magic simulating them, from a wardrobe that turns into a snowy forest to a giant talking lion.

The role of Aslan, of course, calls for a larger-than-life, grandiose presence. But how do you simulate a thousand-pound lion deity?

There are only two choices: puppetry, or a costume that kinda resembles a lion deity, like how the dancers in Andrew Lloyd Weber’s musical Cats resembled cats.

First, puppetry.

The BBC version made in 1988 had a decent Aslan puppet. He didn’t move much, but the story was structured so he didn’t have to. I’ve gotta say the head looks frozen-faced here even in a still, though the voice actor did a fine job.

By the time the Disney movies came around CGI had reached the point where a lifelike lion was possible on the screen. But you can’t do CGI on stage, and for a theatrical run it would be too expensive to do a realistic lion that wouldn’t have moved much anyway. So Aslan became super-stylized, which ties into the major suspension of belief issues of staging Narnia anyway.

This Aslan is operated by performers who likely have the toughest job in the show. Like bunraku puppeteers they wear black, and while they are partly hidden by Aslan’s body the illusion is not total by necessity. The designer created a big cat that is imposing and primal, calling to mind a rough metal sculpture. No idea what scene this is though. That’s Peter or Edmund at the left with a Narnian shield, and the woman may be the White Witch, but what is she doing with Aslan’s head?

Another bunraku puppet Aslan, who is missing his legs for some reason. That, along with the exposed ribs, make him look like’s he’s been partially eaten by vultures before his resurrection.

This Aslan required three puppeteers, being almost elephant-sized! But that’s OK, he wasn’t all one unit, but a set of three: head, forequarters, and hindquarters working in close conjunction.

For theater companies with deep pockets, remote-controlled animatronics are likely to be used.

This one has three operators as well, two for the body and one for the head and mouth. The stylization works as the set itself is stylized: the backdrops are made to look like paper trees and buildings cut from the pages of the book.

One disadvantage of an oversized lion puppet is its weight, which is why the designer of this production made an Aslan of lightweight fabric stretched over a wire frame. Downside: his ankles look broken.

Another wire frame Aslan, but instead of nylon fabric, his hide and mane are made of book covers. Not only The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe itself, but the books named in Tumnus’s library and other children’s classics like The Secret Garden.

An Aslan made of a gauzy fabric, which must have given him an ethereal look under the lights. Sensibly, he has wheels to get around.

Then there’s this one, built for a high school production, which is too easy to make fun of, so I won’t.

The oddest production of The Lion, the Witch and Wardrobe I’ve come across is this avant-garde one from Poland, which features a womblike, minimalist white set with a curtain cocoon that can drop down from above. Aslan looks like he’s made out of translucent plastic, operated by droogs. Lighting is used to convey emotion shifts and scene changes.

The woman at the center cupping her ear might be the White Witch, and that might be Edmund at the back with his dwarf captor. But who’s the elven beauty at Aslan’s side?

This might be the master storyteller who narrates the tale. But who is the faceless, gold-suited man behind her?

This might be the Witch Witch with an electrified neon hoop skirt as she is torturing Edmund, who looks to be doing a break dance on the floor. Maybe the black-clad figures are the witch’s wolves? Or her statues? Who knows. Those Poles, always a crazy bunch.

Worldbuilding Wednesday 6/22/22: Gods of Calormen (Narnia XXXIII)

What I think Zardeenah looked like.

In contrast to Narnia’s monotheism and its “true” God, Aslan, the desert nation of Calormen was polytheistic. Three gods are mentioned: Tash, Zardeenah, and Azaroth, all referenced in the book The Horse and His Boy, which was written by Lewis after The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, but published later.

HHB was Lewis’s ode to British-style Orientalism and its gods call to mind those from ancient Biblical kingdoms. Tash was the most important god and likely the pantheon’s leader, who had the capitol city named after him with a silver-roofed temple at its apex. Zardeenah, Lady of the Night, was the patron of maidens, while Azaroth was only referred to by name. Interestingly, Azaroth is only one consonant-sound off from Azathoth, H. P. Lovecraft’s mad, piping, amorphous deity at the center of the universe. IMO it’s a Lewis tip of the hat to Lovecraft; he also did another, the unpleasant carved deities on the Giant’s Bridge in The Silver Chair. In HHB we are not told what these three deities looked like, though Zardeenah is implied to be human by the honorific “Lady.”

There’s nothing said about more gods then these, but neither is it said there are only three. If Calormen does follow an Egyptian, Assyrian or Babylonion template, there were likely many, and as in Greek and Roman mythology, major ones, minor ones, demigods, and divine heroes.

Any gods would have had influence in areas the Calormenes considered important to their society. For example, the ancient Greeks considered Poseidon, the God of the Sea, powerful and important because they were a maritime people relying on ships and the bounty of the Mediterranean. But for Calormen, which was stated by Lewis to have less adept sailors and slower ships than Narnia and its island nation neighbors, a sea god would not have been so important.

So, I headcanon it this way, from what is available from the books.

Tash is the leader of the other gods and also the god of War, Power, Leadership, Fire (because sacrifices to him are burnt), the Sky, Storms, and Weather (that bird head, plus “the bolt of Tash falls from above”), and the patron of the Tisroc, the distant ancestor who gives the Tisroc his power and authority. Vulture-headed with wings and four arms with clawed hands. Lewis waits until The Last Battle to describe him in detail.

Which creates yet another in-universe contradiction by Lewis, as in HHB the Tisroc states:

[Narnia] is chiefly inhabited by demons in the shape of beasts that talk like men, and monsters that are half man and half beast. It is commonly reported that the High King of Narnia (whom may the gods utterly reject) is supported by a demon of hideous aspect and irresistible maleficence who appears in the shape of a Lion.

Which is quite the pot calling the kettle black, as Tash is a four-armed humanoid vulture! Really, a lion is the most hideous demonthe Calormenes can come up with?  (Then again, Calormenes are masters of double-speak.)

Zardeenah, as Aravis says,  is “Lady of the Night and of Maidens.” She sounds like the Greek goddess Artemis, who was associated with the moon and female virgins. Like Artemis, we can assume she’s young, female, and beautiful. If she has a city it’s Zardeenahbaan.

Azaroth I am going to proclaim as the god of Wisdom, the crafter of those windy, inadvertently humorous proverbs the Calormenes are always sprouting. Gonna says he’s an elderly man with a city called Azarbaan (because Azarothbaan is too awkward to say.)

The three are mentioned in the same phrase only by Aravis, so they are the gods most important to her.

Then I randomgenned some more gods, giving them appearances that vary between human, animal-human, and grotesque, to contrast with Aslan’s pure, lionlike, golden goodness. I also gave some of them cities, as Tash had one. Tehishbaan was one of the cities mentioned, so I speculated that Tehish, too, was a god, and perhaps had a rivalry with Tash.

If any of these gods are “real” that is up to fanfic writer. My guess is that, like Tash, they are not, or at least not in the way the Calormenes thought they were.

 

Gods of Calormen

Armira: Goddess of equilibrium, moderation, balance, justice, and silence. Her left side is white, the right side, black. Below the waist, she has a snake’s body evenly patterned with gray scales. Though her face is lovely, she has no mouth. Her city is Armirabaan.

Barush: God of crafting and calmness.

Charuman: The warrior god of mercenaries, a leopard-man wearing Calormene armor and spiked helmet, his face locked in an eternal snarl.

Dhamiyah: Goddess of motherhood and childbirth.

Falgadi: God of mystics, farseeing and prophecy.

Flauraz: God of both torture and rejuvenation (resurrection) who wields a copper whip. He looks like a demon with red skin, three eyes, clawed hands and feet, and bat’s wings.

Ghazind: The child-god of mischief, who takes the form of a monkey with multiple tails.

Hamadous: God of mummification and the blind. He has brown, wrinkled skin and wears linen strips over his eyes.

Harase: The god of perfumes and unguent creation. He has green skin, a handsome, angelic face, and six arms each holding a vial of some fragrance. His city is Harasebaan.

Ithydris: Known as the patron god of scholars. He has two heads and four arms, basically twins from the waist up. One twin writes on a scroll while the other holds a scroll and reads.

Lephna: The mermaid goddess of water: rivers, lakes, fountains and the desert oasis. Though lovely she is  more fish than human.

Munda: God of encryption, codebreaking, diligence, and intelligence. He appears as a hunched elderly man wearing an orange turban. His city is Mundabaan.

Nezganeen: God of speed, a mash-up of human and grasshopper.

Parvad: Goddess of tea, coffee, hospitality, and gossip. Her holy symbol is a cup carved of ivory.

Rubimen: God of merchants and caravans, expeditions and exploration. He looks like an anthropomorphized camel dressed as a traveler.

Sabreza: Goddess of dance, pantomime, singing, celebrations, color, and splendor. She is honored with colored pigments and chalk. She wears rainbow-colored garments and has the head and green wings of a parakeet. Also known as “The Lady of Happiness.” Her city is Sabrezabaan.

Shauzu: The god of librarianship and libraries, whose symbol is a crystal of golden chalcedony. He looks like a man with the head of a greyhound wearing glasses.

Sumna: Goddess of massage, courtesans, and other forms of sensual entertainment. Her city is Sumnabaan. also known as The City of Twenty Thousand Vices.

Tarjina: Goddess of mirrors and beauty.

Tehish: The god of agriculture, healing, labor, and husbandry. He resembles a minotaur: a man with the head, hooved legs, and tail of a bull.  His city is Tehishbaan.

Zarael: God of drugs, sleep, corruption, and lassitude. Appears as a handsome youth wearing the skin of a wild beast. Some think he’s the same god as Bacchus.

Zardeenah’s Handmaidens: A group of stars in the night sky (like the Pleiades) who are personified by the Calormenes as the goddess’s companions. Their names are Zhenaë, Ranna, Sarondra, Mirambis, Sherael, Ilrisha, Lazhora, and Madjira.

Zilne: The goddess of richness and plenty. Appears as a richly dressed, very weighty, sensual woman on a cushioned litter, holding a bunch of grapes to eat.

The Lion of Lucerne

Aslan, is that you?

The Lion lies in his lair in the perpendicular face of a low cliff—for he is carved from the living rock of the cliff. His size is colossal, his attitude is noble. His head is bowed, the broken spear is sticking in his shoulder, his protecting paw rests upon the lilies of France. Vines hang down the cliff and wave in the wind, and a clear stream trickles from above and empties into a pond at the base, and in the smooth surface of the pond the lion is mirrored, among the water-lilies.

Around about are green trees and grass. The place is a sheltered, reposeful woodland nook, remote from noise and stir and confusion—and all this is fitting, for lions do die in such places, and not on granite pedestals in public squares fenced with fancy iron railings. The Lion of Lucerne would be impressive anywhere, but nowhere so impressive as where he is.

— Mark Twain, A Tramp Abroad, 1880

If you’ve ever been a tourist in the Swiss city of Lucerne, you’ll know that one of the must-see attractions is the Löwendenkmal or The Lion Monument. Carved lying in a grotto of stone, the tip of the spear that killed it protruding from its back, it’s an arresting image for both its pathos and sense of grandeur. Who killed this lion, and why? Why was it monumentalized and put on display? I certainly asked those questions when I was a young’un seeing it on a family vacation to Switzerland. If a younger C. S. Lewis had been in my shoes, he might have asked himself the same questions, so inspiring the pivot point of the plot of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Reality is different. For starters, the sculpture is on display behind an iron fence and across a pool, requiring a telephoto lens to take a proper photo of. And it honors not a lion, or a member of nobility who had the bearing of a lion, but a group of Swiss guards — mercenaries, basically — who were killed during the French Revolution while protecting Tuileries Palace. Though the inscription below the sculpture on the rock face states 760 guards were killed, recent estimates align more with 300 and that it was a more even-handed battle than the massacre that was initially presented. Plus the fact that the slain soldiers were glorified for defending the last gasp of the moribund French royal family and thus rebuking notions of liberty and equality gives the monument some controversy in spite of its emotional tugging on our heartstrings.

Today only one regiment of Swiss guards are left: those protecting the Vatican.

The other great tourist attraction of Lucerne is the gruesome Spreuer Bridge dating from the 16th century, a covered footbridge which sports an interior covered with paintings of cavorting skeletons and plague victims, a theme called by Germans the Totentanz.

Do I sense a theme here?