"I shouldn't mind a good thick slice of bread and margarine this minute," [Edmund] added. But the spirit of adventure was rising in them all, and no one really wanted to be back at school. (2.14)
A spirit for adventure is necessary for courage in Narnia. Can't have one without the other. Those Pevensie children could teach a certain hobbit a thing or two, don't you think?
"I never quite believed in the ghosts. But those two cowards you've just shot believed all right. They were more frightened of taking me to my death than I was of going!" (3.25)
The first Telmarines we meet in the story are those two blokes. Notice how their fear of nature and the supernatural opposes the courage and spirit of adventure embodied by the Pevensie children. Come on, guys, adult-up already.
But when day came, with a sprinkle of rain, and he looked about him and saw on every side unknown woods, wild heaths, and blue mountains, he thought how large and strange the world was and felt frightened and small. (5.38)
Caspian, like all Telmarines, fears the forest. But—and this is a big but—he gathers his courage to continue his journey. Of course, certain death lays behind him at Miraz's Castle—a fact that no doubt helps him gather said courage.
"To put it in another way, I think they'd been imagining you as great warriors. As it is—we're awfully fond of children and all that, but just at the moment, in the middle of a war—but I'm sure you understand." (8.18)
On the one hand, the obvious point here is that courage doesn't have to do with being a child or not. Children can be courageous. On the other hand, Trumpkin kind of has a point about children not being in war. But that's a discussion for another theme (care to guess which?).
"The D.L.F. beat you in that shooting match, Su," said Peter, with a slightly forced smile. Even he had been shaken by this adventure. (9.26)
Courage allows the characters to overcome their fear, but one doesn't replace the other. Being attacked by a full-on bear is still a knee-trembling experience—unless you're in a tank or something.
"You have listened to fears, child," said Aslan. "Come, let me breathe on you. Forget them. Are you brave again?" (11.44)
Here's a quote to link the themes of religion and courage. As with many of Lewis's works, the two seem inseparable. Aslan's breath can represent many things: God's words or a Godly vitality. But we can't forget about the bravery drawn from them.
"Great Heaven!" exclaimed Miraz, jumping to his feet. "Are you also bewitched today? Do you think I am looking for grounds to refuse it? You might as well call me coward to my face." (13.54)
Unlike Peter, Miraz takes his courage too far and into the territory of foolhardiness. It's not about not being a coward. It's about being brave enough to do what is necessary. The duel? Yeah, totally unnecessary for Miraz.
"I say," said Edmund as they walked away, "I suppose it is all right. I mean, I suppose you can beat him?"
"That's what I'm fighting him to find out," said Peter. (13.81-82)
For Peter, the duel is necessary. His army will get whooped something bad if they go toe to toe with the Telmarines. So, unlike Miraz, Peter's courage is a true courage because it's not about proving said courage. It's about doing what is necessary.
Instantly Reepicheep stood forward and bowed. "If my example can be of any service, Aslan," he said, "I will take eleven mice through that arch at your bidding without a moment's delay." (15.46)
Courage isn't something the characters only possess during the battle. As Reepicheep shows, courage is a part of his mousey person 24/7.
"We must," said Peter. "Cheer up, Susan. It's no good behaving like kids now that we are back in Narnia. You're a Queen here. And anyway no one could go to sleep with a mystery like this on their minds." (2.56)
The "You're a Queen here" line has a major undertone of chivalry to it. Susan, as a queen, has certain standards set upon how she should act based on her class and status. Why a queen should have to enter the treasure chamber of a ruined castle in the middle of the night is beyond us, though. Don't they know what kinds of beasties tend to lurk in such places?
"Are you going to tell me what you wouldn't tell me the other day?" said Caspian.
"I am," said the Doctor. "But remember. You and I must never talk about these things except here—on the very top of the Great Tower." (4.50-51)
This scene really captures Caspian's existence as both an Old Narnian and New Narnian. But despite existing in both worlds, the doctor's lessons provide Caspian with a code of conduct based in Old Narnia chivalry (as we'll see later on).
[Caspian] also began to see that Narnia was an unhappy country. The taxes were high and the laws were stern and Miraz was a cruel man. (5.2)
Miraz is definitely lacking in the chivalry department. As the villain most villainous, he doesn't care for others, and that makes him a jerk, not a knight.
"Oh, as for me," said [Trumpkin], who had been listening with complete indifference, "your Majesty knows I think the Horn—and that bit of broken stone over there—and your great King Peter—and your Lion Aslan—are all eggs in moonshine. It's all one to me when your Majesty blows the Horn. All I insist on is that the army is told nothing about it. There's no good raising hopes of magical help which (as I think) are sure to be disappointed." (7.47)
Trumpkin's principles extend to the greater good, not just himself or his own beliefs. Greater good = greater principles. If only all equations were so simple.
"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." (7.60)
Trumpkin doesn't believe in Aslan (yet), but his chivalrous nature means he'll obey Caspian regardless of his personal feelings. At the same time, he'll let you know what he thinks is what. Good ol' D.L.F.
"I needn't tell you they got no true tale out of me, but I was a Dwarf and that was enough." (8.6)
The Telmarines have their own principles, but they're more anti-principles. Here, they include racism, never a solid foundation for a set of principles if you ask us.
"Let the vermin be flung into a pit," said Peter. "But the Dwarf we will give to his people to be buried in their own fashion." (12.86)
Peter's chivalrous nature extends even to his enemies, showing it to be a true type of chivalry. Unless you're a hag or werewolf—then you get the pit.
"Why, if not, we should be as able to win it without the King's grace as with him. For I need not tell your Lordship that Miraz is no very great captain. And after that, we should be both victorious and kingless." (13.34)
Miraz may be detestable as a villain, but Lord Glozelle and Sopespian are the poster boys for lacking in principles. They plot against their king, trick their king, and then flat-out murder him. Dudes, weak sauce.
Peter stepped back, waiting for him to rise. "Oh brother, brother, brother," said Edmund to himself. "Need he be as gentlemanly as that? I suppose he must. Comes of being a Knight and a High King. I suppose it is what Aslan would like." (14.35-36)
Peter doesn't finish off Miraz despite the life-or-death duel. It's just not cool to hit a guy when he's down.
"Yes—that and other things," said Peter, his face very solemn. "I can't tell it to you all. There were things he wanted to say to Su and me because we're not coming back to Narnia." (15.56)
Even though Peter will never return to Narnia, he maintains his chivalry and principles by not telling Lucy what Aslan told him not to say. Way to be trustworthy.
[…], everyone felt that the holidays were really over and everyone felt their term-time feelings beginning again, and they were all rather gloomy and no one could think of anything to say. Lucy was going to boarding school for the first time. (1.2)
Prince Caspian doesn't waste any time hitting us over the head with the whole coming of age thing. Here, the Pevensie children are going to the place where grownups are made: boarding school. The word gloomy seems pretty key.
"And there were Dwarfs. And there were lovely little Fauns in all the woods. They had feet like goats. And—"
"That's all nonsense, for babies," said the King sternly. "Only fit for babies, do you hear? You're getting too old for that sort of stuff. At your age you ought to be thinking of battles and adventures, not fairy tales." (4.11-12)
Miraz doesn't want Caspian to be a Toys"R"Us—er, Narnian kid—anymore. Either way, the fact that he's also the villain makes us think we're supposed to disagree.
"Is he really as bad as that?" said Caspian. "Would he really murder me?"
"He murdered your Father," said Doctor Cornelius. (5.24-26)
Sometimes growing up means learning unpleasant truths about people and the world. Learning that someone wants you dead certainly qualifies as unpleasant, and this scene starts Caspian's journey towards growing up.
The children also put on mail shirts and helmets; a sword and shield were found for Edmund and a bow for Lucy—Peter and Susan were of course already carrying their gifts. (8.24)
The Pevensies put on the clothes of their grownup selves (remember, they were full-on adults at the end of The Lion). This begins their transformation toward the more adult, or Narnian, aspect of their personalities.
[Lucy] had once known them better than the stars of our own world, because as a Queen in Narnia she had gone to bed much later than as a child in England. (9.4)
In not wanting to paint too gloomy a picture about adulthood, Prince Caspian includes this bit of tall folk benefits.
Raw meat is not a nice thing to fill one's pockets with, but they folded it up in fresh leaves and made the best of it. They were all experienced enough to know that they would feel quite differently about these squashy and unpleasant parcels when they had walked long enough to be really hungry. (9.35)
But adulthood isn't all about awesomely late bedtimes. Here the Pevensie boys have to consider and care for their survival—an adult task that can be, let's say, grisly at times. Certainly not something you'd expect to find in a childish romp through a magical land.
"Don't talk like a grown-up," said Lucy, stamping her foot. "I didn't think I saw him. I saw him." (9.63)
Argh, Prince Caspian can't make up its mind. First, the children had to act like adults. Now, Susan thinking like an adult is a bad thing. What do you think: is this novel wishy-washy or is something else going on here?
"And so is your Majesty," said Peter. "I haven't come to take your place, you know, but to put you into it." (12.77)
Peter has assumed his adult position as the High King of Narnia. Now instead of going to school, he's going to act as a kingly teacher for the young Caspian.
"I—I don't think I do, Sir," said Caspian. "I'm only a kid."
"Good," said Aslan. "If you had felt yourself sufficient, it would have been a proof that you were not. Therefore, under us and under the High King, you shall be King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands." (15.5)
Caspian's youthful inexperience means he's the perfect king for Narnia. Adults need not apply for the position; Narnia is not an equal opportunity employer.
"Oh, you two are," answered Peter. "At least, from what he said, I'm pretty sure he means you to get back some day. But not Su and me. He says we're getting too old." (15.58)
Peter and Susan are hereby banished from Narnia. Their crime? Having the gall to grow up. For a land that requires you to go to war, butcher bears, and kill werewolves, they sure have a strict age requirement on the books.
"Well, in a manner of speaking," said the Dwarf, scratching his head. "But he's really a New Narnian himself, a Telmarine, if you follow me." (3.52)
While the good guys will be good and the bad guys bad, Prince Caspian doesn't set up a lazy situation where all Narnians are good and all Telmarines are bad. This means we can't be super lazy readers when assigning characters to a side of the good/bad dividing line.
"Miraz weeded them out. Belisar and Uvilas were shot with arrows on a hunting party: by chance, it was pretended. All the great house of the Passarids he sent to fight giants on the northern frontier till one by one they fell." (5.18)
A king who murders his own allies and gets away with it? Ladies and gentlemen, we have our villain.
"Kill it," said another. "We can't let it live. It would betray us."
"We ought to have killed it at once, or else let it alone," said a third voice. "We can't kill it now. Not after we've taken it in and bandaged its head and all. It would be murdering a guest." (5.43-44)
Even though we don't know who these characters are, we can tell which ones will side with good and which with evil. Coldblooded murder tends to be a dead giveaway. Ha, get it?
Then Patterwig came back with the nut and Caspian ate it and after that Patterwig asked if he could take any messages to other friends. (6.4)
Hospitality is a shared trait among the good guys, especially the hospitality of food. This type of hospitality in heroic characters is totally old school, dating all the way back to The Odyssey.
"Pah!" said Nikabrik. "A renegade Dwarf. A half-and-halfer! Shall I pass my sword through its throat?"
"Be quiet, Nikabrik," said Trumpkin. "The creature can't help its ancestry." (7.15-16)
With this quote, we get to add racism to the qualities that make up the evil characters. Two more, and we get a free evil trait (of equal or lesser evil).
"They say [the White Witch] ruled for a hundred years: a hundred years of winter. There's power, if you like. There's something practical."
"But, heaven and earth!" said the King, "haven't we always been told that she was the worst enemy of all? Wasn't she a tyrant ten times worse than Miraz?" (12.48-49)
Spoilers! The White Witch died at the end of The Lion, but she still symbolizes unambiguous evil hundreds of years after her death. Oh! Siding with unambiguous evil; we've found another evil character trait.
Wherever they went in the little town of Beruna it was the same. Most of the people fled, a few joined them. When they left the town they were a larger and a merrier company. (14.62)
Aslan is the team captain of good in the dodge ball game against evil. In this quote, it's literally a matter of siding with one team or the other.
Then, at Aslan's command, Peter bestowed the Knighthood of the Order of the Lion on Caspian, and Caspian, as soon as he was knighted, himself bestowed it on Trufflehunter and Trumpkin and Reepicheep, and made Doctor Cornelius his Lord Chancellor, and confirmed the Bulgy Bear in his hereditary office of Marshal of the Lists. And there was great applause. (15.20)
Prince Caspian bullseyes the classic children's story ending. The characters who sided with Aslan and Caspian are rewarded for their valiant efforts and deeds. It's good to be the king.
"You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve," said Aslan. "And that is both honor enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor on earth. Be content." (15.35)
Up till now neither Caspian nor the others had really been thinking of a war. They had some vague idea, perhaps, of an occasional raid on some Human farmstead or of attacking a party of hunters, if it ventured too far into these southern wilds. (6.17)
War is clearly an important theme in the novel, so it's interesting to see it show up so late. But once the idea grabs hold of Caspian and company's minds, it goes viral and just spreads. Same goes for the novel, since the war will be the bulk of the story to follow.
Caspian nor the others hesitated for a moment: it now seemed to them quite possible that they might win a war and quite certain that they must wage one. (6.21)
Must is the interesting word for us. Why must they wage a war? No diplomacy? What about that duel idea Peter came up with? We're not quite sure the must is earned here. Want maybe.
Thus there was fighting on most days and sometimes by night as well; but Caspian's party had on the whole the worst of it. (7.38)
If you check out our "Tone" section, you'll see that some people have an issue with the novel's tone concerning the theme of war. Case in point: death, violence, sorrow, and mutilation summed up as "the worst of it."
And Wimbleweather tiptoed away to find some place where he could be miserable in peace and stepped on somebody's tail and somebody (they said afterward it was a fox) bit him. And so everyone was out of temper. (7.40)
One more example of tone as food for thought. Slapstick comedy in a war story? Not exactly Saving Private Ryan, is it?
"Yes, and a lot of good it has done my people, so far," snapped Nikabrik. "Who is sent on all the dangerous raids? The Dwarfs. Who goes short when the rations fail? The Dwarfs. Who—?"
"Lies! All lies!" said the Badger. (12.52-53)
Nikabrik's distortion of reality comes from his distorted take on history. True. But the hardships of war have a distorting effect themselves. In Narnia, war changes people and not necessarily for the better.
"I am sorry for Nikabrik," said Caspian, "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. I don't know which of us killed him. I'm glad of that." (12.81)
To be fair, Caspian does take some time to contemplate the mental toll the war has on his fellow comrades and friends. But to be fair to our being fair, Nikabrik was painted as a barrel of bad apples from day one.
Wherefore we most heartily provoke, challenge, and defy your Lordship to the said combat and monomachy, and have sent these letters by the hand of our well beloved and royal brother Edmund, sometimes King under us in Narnia, Duke of Lantern Waste and Count of the Western March, […]. (13.14)
Politics and war go hand in hand, and Peter's letter to Miraz is a perfect example of this. It's also a good example of why legal treaties are not generally used in bedtime stories.
"Excuses for not fighting! Are you soldiers? Are you Telmarines? Are you men? And if I do refuse it (as all good reasons of captaincy and martial policy urge me to do) you will think, and teach others to think, I was afraid. Is it not so?" (13.56)
Miraz is thinking like a prideful king, not as a captain in a war. If all the "good reasons of captaincy and martial policy urge" you to do something, then do it! Come on, Miraz, get your head in the game.
They were certainly at it hammer and tongs now: such a flurry of blows that it seemed impossible for either not to be killed. As the excitement grew, the shouting almost died away. The spectators were holding their breath. It was most horrible and most magnificent. (14.34)
Here's another great example of the novel's wishy-washy approach to war. The line "horrible and magnificent" kind of sums it up, and it'll be up to you as a reader to decide whether it's one, the other, or both.
They reached the river, but there was no bridge. It had disappeared since yesterday. Then utter panic and horror fell upon them and they all surrendered. (14.42)
All wars must end at some point (we hope), and Narnia's civil war ends at this one. Bet they wished they hadn't skimped on those swimming lessons.
"And look at those other steps—the broad, shallow ones—going up to that doorway. It must have been the door into the great hall."
"Ages ago, by the look of it," said Edmund. (2.2-3)
The first building seen in Narnia is a ruin from the country's golden era. It hints at the current state of Old Narnia before we even get the back story from Trumpkin. Now that's storytelling.
"Caspian the Tenth, King of Narnia, and long may he reign!" answered the Dwarf. "That is to say, he ought to be King of Narnia and we hope he will be. At present he is only King of us Old Narnians—"
"What do you mean by Old Narnians, please?" asked Lucy. (3.48-49)
We talk about the dividing line between good and evil in our "Good vs. Evil" theme. But here we have a similar divider set up. Since Prince Caspian worships the past, you can bet which group of Narnians will end up as the good guys and which will not.
"And there were Dwarfs. And there were lovely little Fauns in all the woods. They had feet like goats. And—"
"That's all nonsense, for babies," said the King sternly. (4.11-12)
The past has been forgotten in all but story and myth, leading Miraz to consider it nonsense. But even the most make-believe stories have some connection to reality and the past. Yes, even the ones with fauns and dwarfs.
"It was your Highness's ancestor, Caspian the First," said Doctor Cornelius, "who first conquered Narnia and made it his kingdom." (4.26)
It's never fully stated whether or not Caspian the First started the horrible mistreatment of Narnians, or if that came later with rulers like Miraz. We've always been curious about that. Wonder if there are any clues to be found elsewhere in the story…
[…] and on the stones, peering in the twilight, Caspian saw strange characters and snaky patterns, and pictures in which the form of a Lion was repeated again and again. It all seemed to belong to an even older Narnia than the Narnia of which his nurse had told him. (7.37)
The further you go into Narnia's past, the more idyllic things become, since it draws closer to Aslan's ideal for the country. Well, except for that whole White Witch thing. That was a bit of a fiasco.
"It is hard for you, little one," said Aslan. "But things never happen the same way twice. It has been hard for us all in Narnia before now." (10.68)
Although returning to the past is ideal in Prince Caspian, it does come with the warning that things cannot be exactly the same. It'll always be different because the past is, well, the past.
"[Aslan] was not always a good friend to Dwarfs by all that's told. Not even to all beasts. Ask the Wolves." (12.38)
Nikabrik's remembrance of the past is a dark mirror compared to the others'. He recalls the White Witch's reign as the idyllic one. Hey, we like winter just fine, but one hundred years? Yeesh.
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. (14.54)
Here, we return to the idea that there are many variants on the past. All of these variants have some flaw in them that make them inferior to the true past. How do you tell the difference? You need to ask the lion.
They were told that Caspian was now King and that Narnia would henceforth belong to the Talking Beasts and the Dwarfs and Dryads and Fauns and other creatures quite as much as to the men. Any who chose to stay under the new conditions might do so; […]. (15.26)
The idyllic past returns to Narnia, but as we saw earlier, it's not the exact same as before. The Telmarines are now Narnians in their own respect, and they can choose to be a part of this new ideal era.
"You came into Narnia out of Telmar," said Aslan. "But you came into Telmar from another place. You do not belong to this world at all. You came hither, certain generations ago, out of that same world to which the High King Peter belongs." (15.30)
In our "What's Up with the Ending?" section, we talk about how the ending is centered on restoring world order. Returning things to a state similar to a past golden era seems to be an important step in achieving that order.
"We are in the ruins of Cair Paravel itself," said Peter. (2.27)
The first example of the home we see is kind of a fixer-upper. And, fancy that, repairing the home is what Prince Caspian is all about.
"I remember now. I took it with me the last day of all, the day we went hunting the White Stag. It must have got lost when we blundered back into that other place—England, I mean." (2.68)
The Pevensie children may have been born and raised in England, but this quote suggests they see Narnia as their true home—or, at the very least, their home away from home.
When Caspian awoke next morning he could hardly believe that it had not all been a dream; but the grass was covered with little cloven hoof-marks. (6.31)
This scene marks the transition for Caspian. It's the moment he finds his new home among the Old Narnians after a seriously rocking house party.
"Aslan's How?" said several voices. "We do not know what it is."
"It lies within the skirts of the Great Woods and it is a huge mound which Narnians raised in very ancient times over a very magical place, where they stood—and perhaps still stands—a very magical Stone." (7.34-35)
We said repairing the home is a major theme in Prince Caspian, and we stand by it. But you could also think of it as rediscovering the home, too. Both work.
But the air of Narnia had been working upon him ever since they arrived on the island, and all his old battles came back to him, and his arms and fingers remembered their old skill. He was King Edmund once more. (8.30)
You know how when you're at home, you're one kind of person, and when you're not, you're another? This scene is kind of like that, only it's not just personality but butt-kicking swordsmanship that changes in Edmund.
The children were sorry to leave Cair Paravel, which, even in ruins, had begun to feel like home again. (8.68)
Pardon the cliché, but home is where the heart is. Or is it where the treasure chamber is? Eh, both work with this passage.
"King Edmund, pah!" said Miraz. "Does your Lordship believe those old wives' fables about Peter and Edmund and the rest?" (13.42)
Part of what makes a community a home is a shared cultural history and stories. Miraz's disgust for those stories just further proves Narnia is not his home.
After this the Telmarine soldiers, firmly but without taunts or blows, were taken across the ford and all put under lock and key in the town of Beruna and given beef and beer. (15.21)
Beruna used to be a home for many Telmarines. Now that they've lost the war; their homes have become a prison. Looking at it from that perspective, we kind of feel sorry for these people.
"Men of Telmar," said Aslan, "you who seek a new land, hear my words. I will send you all to your own country, which I know and you do not." (15.28)
Since Aslan's the good guy of the story, he's fair about it. He does provide the Telmarines with transport to their original home. Hmmm, that might have been handy information for before the whole war thing.
[…], where they were all sitting as if they had never moved from [the country station]—a little flat and dreary for a moment after all they had been through, but also, unexpectedly, nice in its own way, what with the familiar railway smell and the English sky and the summer term before them. (15.61)
The Pevensie children return home. But didn't we say earlier that Narnia was their true home? Sure we did, but you can have more than two homes. Who says you have to have a limit?
"That is a story invented by the Telmarines. Your Kings are in deadly fear of the sea because they can never quite forget that in all stories Aslan comes from over the sea." (4.73)
In Prince Caspian, Aslan represents Jesus Christ, and in the world of Narnia, there is no question that his religion is the true and righteous one. Don't agree? You'd definitely be reading against the grain.
"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." (5.67-68)
Trumpkin is to Prince Caspian as Edmund was to The Lion. Both characters start as skeptics and eventually come to believe in Aslan. To be fair though, Trumpkin had it way easier than Edmund did (though Edmund himself might be partly to blame for that).
"And if I hadn't believed in [Aslan] 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." (5.70)
Caspian's faith grows by the sight of talking animals. As in real life, faith and religion go hand-in-hand in the novel. You can't have one without the other.
"I'll believe in anyone or anything," said Nikabrik, "that'll batter these cursed Telmarine barbarians to pieces or drive them out of Narnia. Anyone or anything, Aslan or the White Witch, do you understand?" (6.12)
Yeah… Nikabrik kind of misses the point here. He's so focused on the ends that he disregards the means, but in religion, the means generally justify the ends.
In the center was the Stone itself—a stone table, split right down the center, and covered with what had once been writing of some kind: but ages of wind and rain and snow had almost worn them away in old times when the Stone Table had stood on the hill top, and the Mound had not yet been built above it. (7.41)
Most—not all—religions use icons, relics, and artifacts in their worship. The Stone Table from The Lion returns to play just such a role in Prince Caspian, representing a holy place and haven for Caspian's holy war.
"And if Aslan himself comes, [Cair Paravel] would be the best place for meeting him too, for every story says that he is the son of the great Emperor-over-the-Sea, and over the sea he will pass." (7.51)
"But they won't believe me!" said Lucy.
"It doesn't matter," said Aslan. (10.65)
Faith returns. Lucy's faith is conflicted by her siblings' lack of faith—a key conflict for the theme of religion in the novel.
"And I have no use for magic lions which are talking lions and don't talk, and friendly lions though they don't do us any good, and whooping big lions though nobody can see them. It's all bilge and beanstalks as far as I can see." (11.8)
Trumpkin's skepticism neatly encapsulated in a handy quote. If he can't see it, he doesn't believe in it. When he meets Aslan later, he totally believes.
Down below that in the Great River, now at its coldest hour, the heads and shoulders of the nymphs, and the great weedy-bearded head of the river-god, rose from the water. (11.54)
Unlike most Christians, C.S. Lewis didn't demonize paganism or its gods. Instead, he believed these gods helped us broaden our understanding of Christianity. Lewis's thoughts on this matter are really interesting, and there are many places to read up on them. Here's one.
"We don't know when [Aslan] will act. In his time, no doubt, not ours. In the meantime he would like us to do what we can on our own." (13.1)
This passage does a nice job of summing up the novel's attitude on religion a la C.S. Lewis: have faith and act in the best way you can. Done and doner.