Allied Froth: The Castle

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By leaving the area, whether or not it is to go into the Bear Cave or south back to the Old Path area, you will regenerate all the enemies in the area upon your return. This is a nice opportunity to gain experience and to collect ice shards for future purchases. To the north is the entrance to the next area, Winter Forest.

When you enter this area, a barrier of sharpened stakes will close behind you, preventing your return to the Old Clearing but you will be able to return after your encounter with the White Witch.. Among the enemies that you will find in the Old Clearing at this point are two wolves and two dwarves with axes in the east, a dwarf with an axe in the centre, a powerful archer in the southwest, and three dwarves with axes in the Northwest.

Here you will find the White Witch. It really does not matter which responses you make although at the beginning, the first response, introducing yourself as Edmund, is the one that elicits the rushing sound. At the end, she will tell you that she wants all four children to visit her at her castle and until he brings his siblings, she has no further interest in Edmund. You now can travel back to the Old Clearing where you can train more if you wish.

You may pass freely from the Old Clearing to the Old Path and back again if you like. There are four wolves to defeat each time you enter the Old Path area. When, however, you go west from the Old Path back to the Lantern Wastes area, a barrier of sharpened stakes will appear to prevent you from returning to the Old Path. All you can do then is find Lucy in the Western corner of the area and speak to her.

The two of you need to return to the Wardrobe, where you will find your other siblings. To return to the Wardrobe: From the Old Clearing, the exit is in the southwest. He must go down to the Old Path, and the exit from the old path to the Lantern Wastes is in the West as well. The first visit of all four Children to Narnia Now all four children can enter Narnia through the Wardrobe into the Lantern Wastes area. This is where the game truly begins in a way, as all that has preceded this has been in the nature of game tutorials. At this point in the game, their statistics should be roughly as follows: Stick, Damage 4 Armour: Stick, Damage 6 Armour: Snowball, Damage 5 Armour: Small Dagger giving 7 Damage Armour: Health is health of every child involved in the level.

Health Metre If the health metre reaches zero, and every child involved in the area is knocked down, the game will restart at the last chequepoint and you will have full health and protection from the cold. Chill Metre Chill Metre: The extreme cold of Narnia can affect the children, diminishing their power and their speed. When Aslan's head becomes a snowflake and begins to flash, the children must seek shelter. The Bear's Den and Mr. Tumnus' house are places where shelter can be found and warmth restored.

The two dungeons at the start of the game do not constitute shelter! Attack Metre Attack Metre: The attack metre consists of three buttons that turn green when a hit is made. Three consecutive hits generate a finishing attack on an enemy with the fourth hit. Moreover, when all three buttons are green, the weapon will glow.

The child that is being used actively will be displayed in the centre of the screen and the other three children will be shown on the right. Buttons on the left are: Calls the other children to the child in control. Opens the Cordial screen so that Lucy can perform spells and play tunes on the pipes Map: Opens a real-time map of the area where the children are located. With respect to this map, I have found it to be most useful when you use it in the following manner: When you locate an important character or place in Narnia, access the map immediately to see where that person or location is in terms of topography.

In other words, the map will show bodies of water, islands and peninsulas. Try to note how far you are from a recognisable river bank or island and remember this whenever you need to locate that individual or place again. I have tried to give detailed instructions on how to reach every area and character in this guide, so you should not need to use the real-time map too often.

Opens access to the In-Game Menu. During a battle, the interface will show tactics that each child not being controlled by the player can employ. Peter will stand on the sidelines and direct the attack; in doing so, all other children will receive a temporary attack and defence bonus icon of a raised sword Heal: Lucy will fall back and use her Magic Cordial to heal any child that needs it. Susan will target the enemies closest to the child controlled by the player icon of a bow and arrow Guard: Edmund will provide suppprot by attacking the weakest enemies.

Unfortunately, the brilliant sophistication of this interface is wasted in this game, as you do not have time to use it when attacked. By the time you decide what tactic you want each child to use, the enemy is dead. It would be far more useful if the battles were turn-based. In a game like this one, where combat is immediate, it is best to allow the game to employ an automatic choice where the actions of the other children are concerned. I gave these in the Introduction as well, but will do so here as it is part of the game menu. Increases WP, allowing the child to use special talents more often Quests: Access the Quests menu to view all Quests Books from Mr.

Please see the Introduction section of this guide for a complete list of Volumes. Blessings can be purchased at Wells to upgrade armour and weapons. At almost any location where a Well is found, a Statue will be found as well. Different Blessings are purchased at the Well and the Statue. You can drag the same Blessing more than once to the box in order to increase its number. Blessings become available as the child advances in levels and completes quests.

To purchase a Blessing, use your stylus to drag the icon of the Blessing from the menu on the left to one of the boxes on the upper right side of the screen. When you attack him, he will bay to his comrades, calling two other wolves to join the battle. You may wish to play actively as Edmund here, as he is the best fighter at this point, but you should be able to defeat all of the wolves fairly easily.

Any health lost in the encounter should be regained when they drop items after their defeat. You will find your first volume from Tumnus' Library in the Eastern edge of the Old Path area after defeating the wolves: Above the place where the book was found is a Badger with an exclamation point over his head. If you accost the Badger now, you will gain your first Animal Quest. The third response, that he would be wise to aid you, is the one that elicits the rushing sound. Once you have accepted the Quest of finding the Badger's son, you can battle your first tree filled with Ankleslicers Northwest of the Badger.

There is another nasty small hollow tree that can be destroyed on the Western edge of the area, not too far from the Lantern Wastes entrance. By the way, as soon as you enter the Old Path area, a barrier of sharpened spikes will spring up behind you, denying you any return to the Lantern Wastes. Go northeast from the entrance to the Old Clearing to find the Bear's Den, where you will have shelter and your first opportunity to purchase upgrades with the ice shards you have won in battle. The first Squirrel Store is found in the Bear's Den, and it would be wise to purchase weapons at this point.

You should be able to afford the lowest grade of weapon for each of the children. Lucy has a dagger, so if you do not have enough money for the next level of dagger for her, not to worry. Edmund and Peter have only sticks and Susan has no weapon at all, so your first priority is to purchase a bow for Susan.

The first clearing with the ice statues and the Badger is called the Old Path. There are a number of statues to smash here that will give you ice shards and two small trees that you can destroy as a team. By going up the narrow path that leads up the hill, you reach the Old Clearing. The Old Clearing has pillars in the centre, the Horse is at the Northwest and the Squirrel Cave is in the Northeast, but you have to go through another section to reach the Bear Cave.

When you come north up the path to the Old Clearing, if you go to the right, you will find a thorn barrier. You therefore must go north where the horse is and then go to the right in the north to reach the Bear Cave and Squirrel Store in the northeast. You will be able to hack at the single thorn from that side that downs the thorn barrier.

The Narnian Mastersword is not only the most valuable weapon here but is the only one that has a splendid special effect when used. When swung, it radiates a dramatic circle of blue light across the ground. Armour is available in two categories: Tabard 30 Protection 4 Royal Tabard 65 Protection 4 Ringmail Prorection 5 Chainmail Protection 6 Note that the Royal Tabard, although costing twice as much as the Tabard, does not provide any more protection for the wearer.

Some armour made for Lucy is a little less expensive than that made for the other children, presumably because she is smaller than they! I imagined at first that the Royal Tabard may have had some other virtue that made it of benefit, perhaps that it would induce the Good Creatures to trust you more readily. It did not appear to have any more virtue than the plain Tabard. In point of fact, unlike some other games that do not allow 'shortcuts', you may skip any grade of weapon or armour and purchase a better one immediately.

For example, it is financially more practical to save your ice shards until you have in order to purchase a King's Greatsword for Edmund than to spend and then ice shards for the less powerful Greatsword and the Claymore. As in many RPGs, Experience is more important than the actual quality of the weapon in any event. Badger Beaver Eagle Faun Fox Great Dog Horse Red Dwarf As the Banners are fairly inexpensive, and you will need all of them at some point, it is a good idea to purchase them as soon as you can afford to do so.

You definitely will need the following Banners in the near future: Badger, Fox and Horse. I bought all 8 of them as soon as I had purchased the lowest grade of weapons and armour for all four children. At the Squirrel Store, you can purchase Foodstuffs as well to restore health and protect the children from the freezing weather. The item available here is: Hot Nut Cake 10 Ice Shards Any food item purchased from a Squirrel Store has to be consumed immediately so do not buy anything if your health metre is full.

Now that you have purchased weapons for all the children and perhaps even Tabards for Peter and Susan if no one else, you should spend some time in the Old Clearing fighting enemies to gain experience. Enemies found in the Old Clearing at this point include: In the West, there are three green-skinned goblins armed with knives. There is a grasping tree to avoid in the southwest. In the middle of the area, you will find six goblins, both green-skinned and red-skinned. You will find your second Volume from Tumnus' Library in the southeast corner of the Old Clearing area, beneath the ice statue of the Minotaur.

It is the first Volume of the Majestic Flyers. In the Northeast of the area, there is a barrier of waving thorns. Approach it from the Northwest to hack at the single thorn on the right side of the barrier to lower it so that you can pass. There are exits to three different areas from the Old Clearing area.

In the southwest, there is the narrow defile that leads back to the Old Path area, where you met the Badger. In the Northwest, you will find a Horse who will give you his first Quest. He stands near the exit to the Canyon area. When you meet the horse, the third response is the correct one. Ask if there is anything you can do to help. He will ask you to defeat 10 Boggles in the area of the Old Clearing. After accepting his quest, you will meet your first Boggle in combat. There are at least five ankleslicers in the area between the Horse and the grasping tree to the south.

There is at least one Boggle and a couple of goblins to the Northwest of the Horse near the exit to the Canyon area. There are two separate considerations here now. One is to fulfill the quest, which requires that you remain in the Clearing area the entire time that you are hunting the 10 Boggles. If you go into another area, even the Bear Cave, in the middle of the casualty count, all Boggles that you have killed will be regenerated and the count will start again at zero.

On the other hand, if you get a flashing snowflake warning, the experience you gain by killing ANY enemies will be lessened considerably. Moreover, there is no rush here. Killing more enemies means that you gain more experience and more ice shards for weapons and armour upgrades. I suggest that, if you do receive a flashing snowflake warning, you attend to it and go into the Bear Cave for shelter.

It is not difficult to kill the 10 Boggles but why not gain the most experience that you can gain when you do kill them? There is one Boggle near the entrance to the Winter Forest Area. There is one Boggle to the right of the entrance to the Bear Cave. There is one Boggle and three goblins at the eastern edge of the area.

There is one Boggle in the southeast corner of the area, next to the ice statue of the Minotaur. There is one Boggle below the grasping tree in the south of the area, and to the west of him, there are three archers. There is one Boggle near the entrance to the Old Path area in the south. There is one Boggle near the entrance to the Canyon area, with three goblins. There are two Boggles together in the centre of the area, a little southeast of the thorn barrier that bisects the area.

There is one Boggle in an alcove almost directly north but a little bit east of the thorn barrier. Once you have completed your Goal and see Goal Complete, there no longer will be any Boggles to regenerate in this area, even if you do exit and reenter. You will have Anklebiters, dwarves with axes and arrows, as well as goblins, but no Boggles.

So if you want more experience, do not complete the goal immediately. One Boggle gives 15 XP if there is no snowflake warning. The third response is the correct one, to ask if you can aid him. He will ask you to defeat all the Boggles in the Old Clearing. This is not a difficult task, but you must remain in this area if you wish to complete it. If you go into another area, even the Bear's Den, the count will return to zero. So make certain that you stay well away from the entrance to the Squirrel Store while searching for these Boggles!

You may receive a snowflake warning during the course of this mission. If so, ignore it until you have killed all 10 Boggles or you will be forced to start the count again. When you see the prompt that tells you the mission has been completed, return to speak to the Horse again. He will offer to teach you a new Talent: You may choose any child but Lucy to receive this Talent. The second Quest of the Horse is to find his Banner. If you have purchased it at the Squirrel Store, give it to him now to be taught the second Level of the Talent.

His third Quest will be to race him. Do not try to go ahead of him. Simply follow at his side and tag the pillars with the exclamation points over them. Go a bit ahead of him when you see the third pillar and tag it to complete the goal. He will teach you the third and last level of the Talent and then tell you to stay safe. Go a bit West of the Horse and then North to enter the Canyon area.

This is a roundabout area, and you must follow the path almost in a circle, ever downward. Finally, when you are on the flat area, go north to the narrow defile to enter the Frozen Plains area. Your first Dungeon will be found here: It is in the Southwestern area of the Frozen Plains, on the southern face of a large boulder outcropping that basically bisects the area.

You will find the Badger's son in the Northwest of this area. He will not be grateful to you for 'spoiling his fun', but nonetheless, you will have completed the Badger's Quest. You can access a new area in the Southeastern corner of the Frozen Plains: I suggest that you explore the Frozen Plains and Canyon areas thoroughly instead, however, at this point. Go back to the Southwestern corner to return to the Canyon. You will see a Beaver in the Canyon on the eastern shore of the little lake, almost directly south of the narrow defile that leads to the Frozen Plains..

The first response is the correct one: What has happened to Mr. He will give you the next Main Quest, which is to find two of the Witch's dungeons and free the Good Creatures within. He tells you to search the two northernly dungeons nearby, even though they are well-guarded. You know where the first dungeon is now, in the Frozen Plains area.

You will return to it presently, but first, you should meet some other animals in the Canyon for more Animal Quests. Your third Squirrel Store is in some bushes directly south of your second Dungeon, the Dungeon of Cowardice, in the face of the Northern wall in the Canyon area. Both these Squirrel Stores offer the same selection of armour, weapons and Banners as the first.

You will meet a Fox in the Southeastern corner of this area. The third response is the correct one, that you are sad because you are worried about the future of Narnia. The Fox will give you a Quest: Actually, what he means by this is not the 'Lantern Waste' area in the game, but the 'Frozen Plains area' as you will see if you go into the Quests menu.

All the areas you have explored are called the 'Lantern Wastes' in general, but the particular small area in which the designated Goblins will be found is the 'Frozen Plains. As before, you cannot leave the area, even for temporary shelter, while involved in the mission, so if you require shelter at this point, seek it now. You can go into Mr. Tumnus' house, in fact, in the southwest corner of the Canyon, after you speak to the Fox, if you need shelter. Otherwise, proceed to the Frozen Plains using the entrance in the narrow northern defile of the Canyon area.

There are two dwarves with axes in the Southeast corner of the area, near the entrance to the Old Clearing. Killing these will not increase your Goblin count.

There are two archer dwarves directly south of the Shelter. There are 4 Goblins directly south of the Dungeon of Injustice. There are 2 dwarves and 4 wolves north of the Dungeon of Injustice. There is a Boggle a little to the Northeast of these. As you can see, your 12 Goblins will be found in groups of four in different parts of the Frozen Plains area. Beware the grasping trees as you search for the Gobliins.

There is one in particular that is easy to miss, directly below the ice statue of the Minotaur to the East of the Shelter. Tumnus' house is close, in the Southwestern corner of the Canyon area. Remember that access to the Frozen Plains is through the narrow defile in the North Northeast rather than Northwest of the Canyon.

Go to the Frozen Plains now to polish off the Goblins for the Fox. If you go into the Winter Forest now from the Frozen Plains, there is not much to do there, but you can enter the Old Clearing from southwest corner the Winter Forest. The Old Clearing is useful for a couple of reasons. It has many ice statues in it and Ice Statues contain ice shards. You may wish to purchase upgrades so the more Ice Shards you can collect, the better. The other reason for taking a detour to the Old Clearing now is to reach the Old Path so you can inform the Badger of the success of the first Quest and ask for his second Quest.

Incidentally, you will find small trees filled with anklebiters in the Old Path area. These are enemies that give you more experience than many others and are a good source of items as well when they contain anklebiters. Once the Badger has taught you his Talent, speak to him again for your second Quest. This will be to smash the large Statue head that blocks the entrance to his den. You will find the Statue head in the Eastern part of the Frozen Plains level. If you go through the Winter Forest to reach it, you will find many ice statues to smash for ice shards.

The stone Statue head actually blocks the Shelter that you found previously in the Frozen Plains level and is the site of a Squirrel Store. Simply use your weapons to smash the Stone head to complete this mission. The entrance to the Canyon area from the Frozen Plains area is south of the huge white trunk of a tree.

You actually go through the tree to reach the narrow defile that takes you to the Canyon area. You may wish to go there now to speak to the Fox again. He will teach you a new Talent: Any child apart from Lucy can receive this Talent. After you have learned the new Talent, speak to the Fox again for your next Quest: You may wish to return to the Badger in the Old Path area to tell him the Quest is accomplished. The third quest he will give you, after teaching you the second level of his talent, is to find his Banner.

Give him the Banner you purchased at the Squirrel Store and he will teach you the third and last level of his Talent. The Fox's Tree is in the centre of the Winter Forest area. It is a tall evergreen covered with snow. Wolves have collected round it, so it is difficult to miss! Kill all wolves and you will see a prompt telling you that your goal is accomplished. Now return to speak to the Fox, but first purchase the Fox's Banner as that will be the next and last Quest from him. Go to the Southwest to enter the Canyon through the narrow defile. Now go to the Southeast of the Canyon to find the Fox.

He will teach you the second and third levels of his Talent before he offers to accompany you on your journey. If you would like the aid of a fifth fighter, accept his offer now. There are two ways to journey to the Old Clearing from the Frozen Plains, either by going through the Canyon, or by going through the Winter Forest. Go down through the maze of boulders until you see a single thorn regulating a waving thorn barrier. Hack at this and pass through the barrier. You will see ice tunnels to the southeast.

If you were going to the Beaver Forest area, you would pass carefully through the area, avoiding them but continue east rather than going south immediately. You will see a Boggle. Kill him, and then go south to the Beaver Forest entrance. You cannot enter the Beaver Forest area now, however, so when you see the ice tunnels, turn immediately northwest, and go north up the path. At the end of the path, you will see a moaning tree filled with Boggles.

Destroy it and them and then carry on south into a wide area. The entrance to the Old Clearing is in the Southwest of this wide area. The first 3 Animal Quests The first 3 Quests: I have dealt with these in detail in the actual Walkthrough section above, but here they are in a condensed form: Horse Quest Horse Quests: He will ask you to rid the Old Clearing of Boggles. I have given a detailed description of the location of every Boggle in the Walkthrough section. Win the horse race To win the Horse Race, you must tap every pillar that is marked with a red exclamation mark.

If you follow the Horse round the Old Clearing, staying in step with him, you will know the order in which you should tap the pillars. After the last pillar, simply beat the Horse to the Exclamation Point in the place where you first met him. Badger is in the Old Path area 1st Quest: Rescue the Badger's son: Clear the Wolves from Fox's tree Journey form the Canyon north to the Frozen Plains area and then to Southeast to find the entrance to the Winter Forest area; the Fox's tree is a tall evergreen in the middle of the Winter Forest area N.

It may be convenient to destroy the huge statue head in the Frozen Plains area for the Badger on the way to the Winter Forest. Fulfill the Quest and return to the Animal or Creature to announce your success. Learn the new Talent and then speak to the Animal or Creature again to learn the next Quest required of you. To find the Fox's Tree from the Canyon area: Go down the hill and to the southwest. Avoid the grasping tree in the west and go south and east immediately until you reach the large clearing.

There will be a statue there to smash. North of that is another grasping tree to avoid. If you go southeast, you will see some ice swirls to the east of a huge evergreen covered by snow. Directly to the East there is a small moaning tree that you can destroy. The tall evergreen west of the moaning tree is the Fox's Tree. There is a grasping tree immediately to the West of the Fox's Tree so it is best not to approach from that direction.

Instead, make your way through the ice swirls to kill the wolves waiting south of the Fox's Tree. When you have killed them, you will see the 'Goal Completed' prompt. At a different time of day, you may find a Boggle and two dwarves are near the entrance to the large central clearing rather than the ice statue and there will be another Boggle in place of the ice swirls.

It then will be a simple matter to go to the Fox's Tree directly to kill the Wolves. From the Old Clearing to the Fox's Tree, take the following path: Enter the Winter Forest area from the Northeast, up the ramp. You will find yourself in a clearing. As you go north, avoid a grasping tree in the northwest and go a bit east, but mainly north to a small moaning tree that you can destroy. You may see three ice statues of Minotaurs on this path which you should destroy for ice shards. From there, go east and then south, following the path through the boulder maze.

Go southeast again, past the waving thorn barrier, destroying more Minotaur ice statues if you see them and thread your way through the many ice swirls that you will find. From the ice swirl area, go northeast. You will see another grasping tree in the southeastern corner of this section. If you go south past the grasping tree, you will come to the entrance to the Beaver Forest area, now blocked by a spike barrier. Instead, go north to a small howling tree in the East which you can demolish.

There may be an ice statue of a Boggle there as well. You may see ice swirls on the way so take care as you go north. From the moaning tree, go directly west to find the Fox's Tree with the wolves south of it. The enemies found in any specific area do change depending upon the time of day. When I entered the Old Path in the day, there were a host of new enemies there, from wolves to dwarves. At night, though, nothing but Ice Statues. In the Old Clearing after speaking to the Badger, I found all sorts of goblin groups, but at night, nothing but Ankleslicers.

It is time to enter the two dungeons to fulfill your Main Quest, as you have finished the three Animal Quests in this general area of Narnia. After you rescue the captive in the second dungeon, you will enter a new part of Narnia. Obviously, you can perform the tasks in a different order and you can enter these two dungeons at any point, but this Walkthrough is organised to give you maximum upgrades and the least amount of confusion in your journey.

No journey is wasted, though, as it gives you the opportunity to kill more enemies, collecting more commodities and more experience. These dungeons are not particularly difficult, but I still prefer to have the children at a fairly decent Level before performing the Dungeon Quests. At this point in the game, you should have: Khopesh Sword giving 8 Damage Armour: Tabard, giving Protection 4. Heavy Sword giving 14 Damage Armour: Tabard, giving Protection 4 Susan: Level 9 HP 22 WP: Faun's Bow, giving 6 Damage Armour: Tabard, giving Protection 4 Lucy: Dagger giving 8 Damage Armour: Tabard, giving Protection 4 You will note that Edmund is at a higher level than the others, as he was involved alone in the earlier part of the game.

It is a good idea to visit one of the Shelters before entering a Dungeon, as you do not want to get the flashing snowflake alert while in the Dungeon. If you gave the Banner to the Fox, you will be close to Tumnus' house. Go into the house for a moment before proceeding to the Dungeon of Injustice in the Frozen Plains area. The Dungeon of Injustice Dungeon of Injustice: This is a very small dungeon and should not present any difficulties. The enemies that you will encounter in the Dungeon are dwarves with axes and bows and rats.

The most powerful enemy here is the Super Boggle at the end who guards the prisoner. The correct path in the Dungeon of Injustice is as follows: In the Dungeon of Injustice, go to the East but almost immediately to the North. Go North until you can go no further, then West along the top corridor. You actually can see the Unicorn you will rescue at one point, in a chamber below you.

Going West, you will enter another screen before having any opportunity to go South again. When you reach the end of the corridor, you will be forced to South, then to your East. You will find the entrance to a chamber to the North almost at once. Enter the chamber and you will find that in the.

This corridor is directly beneath the first long corridor that you traversed. Almost immediately upon entering this screen, the music will change and you will find yourself in conflict with the creature guarding the prisoner. It is a Boggle, but kind of a super Boggle with red skin. Once you see the Boggle, you will be unable to return to the western screen, by the way.

Defeat it with little trouble and the sharpened stakes barrier that holds the Unicorn captive will drop. Speak to the Unicorn. You will find yourself outside the Dungeon, and again, you will have lost your animal companion. If you do not want to rescue the Unicorn immediately and attempt to carry on to the East at the bottom of the screen when you first enter the dungeon, you will face a dead end almost immediately.

If you wish to retrieve the Fox again, return to the Canyon to speak with him. He will be happy to join you again. Take him with you to your second Dungeon, the Dungeon of Cowardice. Dungeon of Cowardice Dungeon of Cowardice: This probably should be your second Dungeon as it is slightly more complex than the Dungeon of Injustice. Here is the easiest way to navigate this Dungeon to find the Red Dwarf who is the prisoner. No other poet writing English in our time has been able to deal with supreme artistic success with such interesting and such varied experience.

No other writer has been able to sustain the traditional grand man- ner of the poet with so little effect of self-consciousness, , And in spite of the immense amount of poetry pub- lished and read to-day, the personality truly and naturally 38 W. YEATS poetic seems to be becoming rarer and rarer. It may be true that the kind of dignity and distinction which have been characteristic of the poet in the past are becoming more and more impossible in our modern democratic so- ciety and during a period when the ascendancy of scien- tific ideas has made man conscious of his kinship with the other animals and of his subjection to biological and physical laws rather than of his relation to the gods.

It was easy for the lyric poet, from Wyatt's age to Waller's, to express himself both directly and elegantly, because he was a courtier, or, in any case, a member of a com- paratively small educated class, whose speech combined the candor and naturalness of conversation among equals with the grace of a courtly society.

It was possible for him honestly to take up a residence in an intellectual world where poetic images stood for actualities because the scientific language and technique for dealing with these actualities had not yet come to permeate thought. But the modern poet who would follow this tradition, and who would yet deal with life in any large way, must create for himself a special personality, must maintain a state of mind, which shall shut out or remain indifferent to many aspects of the contemporary world.

This necessity ac- counts partly, I suppose, for Yeats's preoccupation in his prose writings with what he calls the Mask or Anti-Self, a sort of imaginary personality, quite antagonistic to other elements of one's nature, which the poet must impose upon himself. It is hard to imagine a seventeenth-century poet being driven to such a theory a theory which makes 39 AXEL'S CASTLE one's poetic self figure as one of the halves of a split per- sonality; and it seems true that Yeats himself has not been able to keep up his poetic role without a certain ef- rort.

We find, at any rate, in his criticism and his auto- biographical writings a remarkably honest and illumi- nating account of the difficulties of remaining a poet dur- ing the age in which we live. Yeats seems to be conscious from the first of an an- tagonism between the actual world of industry, politics and science, on the one hand, and the imaginative poetic life, on the other. He tells us, in his autobiography, that a vital issue seemed to be raised for him, in his boyhood, by the then popular and novel realism of Bastien-Lepage and Carolus Durand as against the mysticism of the Pre- Raphaelite painters.

Bastien-Lepage's "clownish peasant staring with vacant eyes at her great boots" represented already to the young Yeats that Naturalistic, scientific vision which contradicted and warred with his own. And he takes up from the beginning, in his criticism,, a defi- nite and explicit position in regard to Naturalism: His principles in liter- ature are those of the Symbolists, but he formulates them more clearly and defends them with more vigor than any- one else has yet done in English. YEATS life, for wisdom first speaks in images and. The makers of it arc like an old peasant telling stories of the great famine or the hangings of '98 or from his own memories.

He has felt something in the depth of his mind and he wants to make it as visible and powerful to our senses as possible. He will use the most extravagant words or illustrations if they will suit his purpose. Or he will invent a wild parable, and the more his mind is on fire or the more creative it is, the less will he look at the outer world or value it for its own sake. It gives him metaphors and examples, and that is all. He is even a little scornful of it, for it seems to him while the fit is on that the fire has gone out of it and left it but white ashes. I cannot explain it, but I am certain that every high thing was invented in this way, between sleeping and waking, as it were, and that peering and peeping persons are but hawkers of stolen goods.

How else could their noses have grown so ravenous or their eyes so sharp? This reaction, which, by way of Germany and under the name of Expressionism, has attracted so much more attention since the War, had not, at the time of the founding of the Abbey Theatre, mani- fested itself very vigorously on the Continent. Symbolism did not play yet in the theatre the role that it was play- ing in poetry. Yet its seeds had already sprouted here and there.

August Strindberg, returning from Paris to Sweden, wrote between and the Symbolistic "To Damas- cus" and "Dream Play," the prototypes of the German Ex- pressionistic drama; and Maeterlinck, with vague, pale and suave images, quite different from Strindberg's lively, queer and dissonant ones, had created quite a little theatre of Symbolism. Now Yeats, in his own dramatic works, has produced a theatre somewhat similar to Maeterlinck's. The productions of a greater poet, equipped with a richer and more solid mythology, these plays do, however, take place in the same sort of twilit world as Maeterlinck's a world in which the characters are less often dramatic personalities than disembodied broodings and longings.

Yeats's plays have little dramatic importance because Yeats himself has little sense of drama, and we think of them primarily as a department of his poetry, with the same sort of interest and beauty as the rest. But Yeats, the director and propagandist of the Abbey Theatre, does have considerable importance in the history of the modern stage.

YEATS Naturalistic turn which Yeats never contemplated or de- sired; but his long and uncompromising campaign for a revival of poetic drama contributed much to contempo- rary efforts to break up the rigid technique and clear the stage of the realistic encumbrances of the Naturalistic drama. Yeats's greatest contribution to the theatre has been, not his own plays, but those of Synge, whom in he discovered stagnating in Paris and induced to re- turn to Ireland. Synge succeeded, on a small scale, during the few years before he died, in creating for the Abbey Theatre perhaps the most authentic example of poetic drama which the modern stage has seen.

Yeats at this period, the period of the founding and the first battles of the Abbey Theatre, is both active and effec- tive. There has always been more of the public figure and more of the pugnacious Irishman about him than his philosophy invites us to believe. But this philosophy never ceases to insist upon the irreconcilable opposition between the life of self-assertion in the practical world and the life consecrated to the recovery and contemplation of the precious symbol, which, "if he [the poet] would but brood over it his whole life long, would lead his soul, disentan- gled from unmeaning circumstance and the ebb and flow of the world," into the presence of the gods.

Yeats recurs again and again to the necessity of mortifying the will: For the rest, Yeats's prose, in its beginnings, when he is most under the influence of the Pre-Raphaelites and Pater, is a little self-consciously archaic it has a Re- naissance elaborateness and pomposity; and it is a little too close to the language of poetry the meaning is often clotted by metaphor. But Yeats's prose, like his verse, has, with time, undergone a discipline and emerged with a clearer outline. Yeats is to-day a master of prose as well as a great poet. He was already magnificent in his intermedi- ate period the period of "Per Arnica Silentia Lunae" Unlike the rheto- ricians, who get a confident voice from remembering the crowd they have won or may win, we sing amid our uncertainty; and, smitten even in the presence of the most high beauty by the knowledge of our solitude, our rhythm shudders.

I think, too, that no fine poet, no matter how disordered his life, has ever, even in his mere life, had pleasure for his end. Johnson and Dowson, friends of my youth, were dissipated men, the one a drunkard, the other a drunkard and mad about women, and yet they had the 44 W.

YEATS gravity of men who had found life out and were awaken- ing from the dream; and both, one in life and art and one in art and less in life, had a continual preoccupation with religion. Nor has any poet I have read of or heard of or met with been a sentimentalist. The other self, the anti- self or the antithetical self, as one may choose to name it, comes but to those who are no longer deceived, whose passion is reality.

The sentimentalists are practical men who believe in money, in position, in a marriage bell, and whose understanding of happiness is to be so busy whether at work or at play, that all is forgotten but the momentary aim. They find their pleasure in a cup that is filled from Lethe's wharf, and for the awakening, for the vision, for the revelation of reality, tradition offers us a different word ecstasy. But in his autobiography, "The Trembling of the Veil" , Yeats has achieved a com- bination of grandeur with a certain pungency and home- liness which recalls the more lightly and swiftly moving writers of the seventeenth century rather than the more heavily upholstered ones of the earlier Renaissance.

The prose of Yeats, in our contemporary literature, is like the product of some dying loomcraft brought to perfection in the days before machinery. The qualities of a good prose style in English to-day are likely to be those of 2 sound intellectual currency, clipped out by a sharp cut ter and stamped by a solvent mint; Rudyard Kipling Bernard Shaw and T. Of Samuel Butler, Shaw's master, Yeats has written that he was "the first Englishman to make the discovery that it is possible to write with great effect without music, without style, either good or bad, to eliminate from the mind all emo- tional implication and to prefer plain water to every vin- tage, so much metropolitan lead and solder to any tendril of the vine.

Yeats's prose is, how- ever, still a garment worn in the old-fashioned personal manner with a combination of elegance and ease, at the same time that it is unmistakably of our time by virtue of a certain modern terseness and of a characteristically mod- ern trick we shall encounter it later in Proust of reveal- ing by unexpected juxtapositions relations of which one had not been aware "He had been almost poor," writes Yeats of Wilde in the period before his disaster, "and now, his head full of Flaubert, found himself with ten thousand a year" or of effecting almost startling transitions from the particular to the general and back again.

For Yeats has become a critic now not merely of literature, but of hu- man life and society in general: Yet his mind is so comprehensive and so active that he has felt the need of constructing a system: As a young man, Yeats fre- quented clairvoyants and students of Astrology and Magic; Madame Blavatsky, the necromantic Theosophist, seems to have made upon him a considerable impression. And in he was led to formulate, in an essay on Magic, the following set of beliefs, to which he still ap- parently adheres: And despite the obvious charlatanism or naivete of most of his instructors and fellow investigators, Yeats's account of his researches is interesting.

For it is not merely that Yeats loves the marvellous: The results of this research are very curious. When we read Yeats's account of his adventures among the mediums, it becomes plain that, in spite of his repudi- ation of science, he has always managed to leave himself a margin of scientific doubt. Like Huysmans, he betrays an instinct to scrutinize and check up on the supernatural which is disastrous to genuine mysticism. Just as in Huysmans's case, we always feel that the wistful student of Satanism has too much solid Dutch common sense really to deceive himself about his devils, so in Yeats he himself has confessed it the romantic amateur of Magic is always accompanied and restrained by the ra- tionalistic modern man.

YEATS examine and question his visions, and write them out as they occurred; and still more because I thought sym- bolic what he thought real like the men and women that had passed him on the road. What is most curious is that Yeats should at last have con- structed out of these symbols an elaborate mystical-meta- physical system. This system was set forth in "A Vision," a work which occupied Yeats for many years and which he published privately in Yeats asserts that human personality follows the pat- tern of a "Great Wheel.

Let the moon represent subjectivity and the sun, objectivity: At these two opposite poles of the circle, human life is impossible: But along the circumference of the circle, between these two ultra-human poles, there occur twenty-six phases which cover all possible types of human personality. Yeats's theory of the variation of these types is extremely complicated.

He begins by assigning to "incarnate man" four "Faculties": YEATS cktnents according to geometrical laws we calculate the characters of the different phases. Starting at the right of the objective pole, the soul passes first through varieties of almost purely physical life Yeats takes his examples here from the Bacchuses and shepherds of the poets.

It is mov- ing toward subjectivity, however Walt Whitman, Alex- andre Dumas: The ultra-human subjective phase, which apparently includes Christ, is described as "a phase of complete beauty," where "Thought and Will are indistinguishable, effort and attainment are indistin- guishable nothing is apparent but dreaming Will and the Image that it dreams. But once the all-subjective phase is past, the soul ".

Before the full It sought itself and afterwards the world. Yeats has worked all this out with great care and with considerable ingenuity. He has described each of the twenty-eight phases and supplied us with typical exam- ples. What we find in this part of the book is Yeats's familiar preoccupation with the conflict between action and philosophy, reality and imagination.

It is amusing and characteristic that, according to his system, the side of humanity closest to the sun that is, closest the objec' tive nature should be the side that is bathed in darkness, whereas the side which is furthest from the sun that is, nearest the subjective nature should be the side that is bright! Now this is a subject which has hitherto, in Yeats's prose as well as in his verse, usually inspired him well; the symbols of the Mask, the Sun and Moon, etc.

And there are, to be sure, certain passages of "A Vision" as brilliant as Yeats at his best. He writes, for example, of the phase of "the Receptive Man," to which he assigns Rembrandt and Synge: Helen was of this phase; and she comes before the mind's eye elaborating a delicate personal discipline as though she would make her whole life an image of a unified antithetical that is, subjective energy. While seeming an image of softness, and of quiet, she draws perpetually upon glass with a diamond. Yet she will not number among her sins anything that does not break that personal discipline, no matter what it may seem according to others' discipline; but if she fail in her own discipline she will not deceive herself, and for all the languor of her movements, and her indifference to the acts of others, her mind is never at peace.

She will wander much alone as though she consciously meditated her masterpiece that shall be at the full moon, yet un- seen by human eye, and when she returns to her house she will look upon her household with timid eyes, as though she knew that all power of self-protection had been taken away, and that of her once primary Tincture that is, objective element nothing remained but a 53 AXEL'S CASTLE strange irresponsible innocence. Already perhaps, through weakness of desire, she understands nothing, while alone seeming of service.

Is it not because she de- sires so little and gives so little that men will die and murder in her service? Yet "A Vision," when we try to read it, makes us im- patient with Yeats. As a rule, he expounds his revelations as if he took them seriously that is, as if he believed that tnas1 s and husJ s and daimons and passionate bodies were things which actually existed, as if they were as real as those visions of A.

Yet now and then the skeptical Yeats reasserts himself and we are startled by an unexpected suggestion that, after all, the whole thing may be merely "a back- ground for my thought, a painted scene. The Celestial Body is also horizontal at first but lies in the op- 54 W. YEATS posite position, its feet where the Spirit's head is, and then rising, as does the Spirit, stands up at last at the feet of the man's body.

The Passionate Body rises straight up from the genitals and stands in the centre. Yeats tells us how, four days after their marriage in , Mrs. Yeats surprised him by attempting automatic writing. He supported his classification by a series of geometrical sym- bols and put these symbols in an order that answered the question in my essay as to whether some prophet could not 55 AXEL'S CASTLE prick upon the calendar the birth of a Napoleon or a Christ.

It appears that not only has Yeats always succeeded in steering clear of science: Arguments with my father, whose convictioni had been formed by John Stuart Mill's attack upon Sir William Hamilton, had destroyed my confidence and driven me from speculation to the direct experience of the Mystics. I had once known Blake as thoroughly as his 56 W. Yeats, who, it appears, did not share her husband's ignorance, a list of the philosophers she had read. For four years, Yeats applies himself to these, and what he finds makes him uneasy about "A Vision": But the spirits themselves intervene to put an end to this disquieting situation: As we read all this, we say to ourselves that Yeats, grow- ing older, has grown more credulous.

But we come, at the end, to the following passage: Does the word belief, used as they will use it, be- long to our age, can I think of the world as there and I here judging it? Into the personal situation suggested by Yeats's account of his revelations, it is inappropriate and unnecessary to go: When Yeats, 57 AXEL'S CASTLE at the crucial period of his life, attempted to leave fairy- land behind, when he became aware of the unsatisfying character of the life of iridescent revery, when he com- pletely recreated his style so as to make it solid, homely and exact where it had formerly been shimmering or florid the need for dwelling with part of his mind or with his mind for part of the time in a world of pure imagination, where the necessities of the real world do not hold, had, none the less, not been conjured away by the new artistic and intellectual habits he was cultivating.

Where the early Yeats had studied Irish folk-lore, col- lected and sorted Irish fairy tales, invented fairy tales for himself, the later Yeats worked out from the medium- istic communications of his wife the twenty-eight phases of the human personality and the transformations of the soul after death. Yeats's sense of reality to-day is inferior to that of no man alive indeed, his greatness is partly due pre- cisely to the vividness of that sense. In his poetry, in his criticism and in his memoirs, it is the world we all live in with which we are confronted the world we know, with all its frustrations, its defeats, its antagonisms and its errors the mind that sees is not naive, as the heart that feels is not insensitive.

They meet reality with comprehension and with passion but they have phases, we are astonished to discover, when they do not seem to meet it at all. Yet the scientific criticism of supernatural phenomena is ac- tually as much a part of the reality of Yeats's world as it is of that of most of the rest of us. And when Yeats writes of his supernatural experiences, this criticism, though it may 58 W. YEATS be kept in the background, is nevertheless always present his realistic sense is too strong, his intellectual integrity too high, to leave it out of the picture.

Though he is much addicted to these fantastic imaginings, though he no doubt needs their support to enable him to sustain his r61e of great poet yet when he comes to write about his spirits and their messages, he cannot help letting us in on the im- posture. He believes, but he does not believe: It is interesting to compare "A Vision" with that other compendious treatise on human nature and destiny by that other great writer from Dublin.

Bernard Shaw's "Guide to Socialism and Capitalism. Shaw and Yeats, both coming as young men to London from eighteenth-century Dublin, followed diametrically opposite courses. Shaw shouldered the whole unwieldy load of contemporary sociology, poli- tics, economics, biology, medicine and journalism, while Yeats, convinced that the world of science and politics was somehow fatal to the poet's vision, as resolutely turned away. Shaw accepted the scientific technique and set him- self to master the problems of an industrial democratic society, while Yeats rejected the methods of Naturalism and applied himself to the introspective plumbing of the 59 AXEL'S CASTLE mysteries of the individual mind.

While Yeats was edit- ing Blake, Shaw was grappling with Marx; and Yeats was appalled by Shaw's hardness and efficiency. And their respective literary testaments the "Vision" and the "Guide" published almost at the same time, mark the extreme points of their divergence: Shaw bases all human hope and happiness on an equal distribution of income, which he believes will finally make impossible even the pessimism of a Swift or a Voltaire; while Yeats, like Shaw a Protestant for whom the Catholic's mysticism was impossible, has in "A Vision" made the life of hu- manity contingent on the movements of the stars.

YEATS IV Yet, in the meantime, the poet Yeats has passed into a sort of third phase, in which he is closer to the common world than at any previous period. He is no longer quite so haughty, so imperturbably astride his high horse, as during his middle Dantesque period.

Are You an Author?

With the Dantesque mask, he has lost something of intensity and something of sharpness of outline. In "The Tower" , certain words such as "bitter," "wild," and "fierce," which he was able, a few years ago, to use with such thrilling effect, have no longer quite the same force. He writes more loosely, and seems to write more easily. He has become more plain-spoken, more humorous his mind seems to run more frankly on his ordinary human satisfactions and chagrins: Though he now inhabits, like Michael Robartes, a lonely tower on the outermost Irish coast, he has spent six years in the Irish senate, presiding at official receptions in a silk hat, inspecting the plumbing of the government schools and conscientiously sitting through the movies which it is one of his official duties to censor.

He is much occupied with politics and society, with general reflec- tions on human life but with the wisdom of the experi- ence of a lifetime, he is passionate even in age. And he writes poems which charge now with the emotion of a great lyric poet that profound and subtle criticism of life of which I have spoken in connection with his prose. He remembers the woman in all her young beauty and thinks of himself with his present sixty years "a comfortable kind of old scarecrow.

O chestnut tree, great rooted blossomer, I Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole? O body swayed to music, O brightening glance, How can we know the dancer from the dance? YEATS rate and distinct A complex subject has been treated in the most concentrated form, and yet without confusion.

Perceptions, fancies, feelings and thoughts have all their place in the poet's record. It is a moment of human life, masterfully seized and made permanent, in all its nobility and lameness, its mystery and actuality, its direct personal contact and abstraction. Valery wrote little at this time and did not even collect his verses in a book; yet the Symbolists of what was then the younger generation seem to have acknowledged his supremacy from the beginning. What we find in these poems to-day is chiefly the chaste-celestial, the blue-and- white mood of such poems of Mallarme's as "Apparition" in what seems a thinner diluted form.

Paul Valery, like his master, is "haunted" by the "azure"; but that azure is less a pure blue realm and more a rarefied upper air. Here and there in these early poems, however, the later Valery is plainly recognizable: Valery has given us a curious description of his attitude toward Mallarm at this time: Reading and writing were becoming dull work for me, and I confess that they still bore me a little. The study of myself for its own sake, the comprehension of that attention itself and the desire to trace clearly for myself the nature of my own existence, almost never abandoned me. This secret disease alienates one from letters, despite the fact that it has its source in them.

In a deep sense, I had his mind for a companion, and I hoped that r despite the difference in our ages, and the immense dis- parity of our gifts, the day would come when I should not be afraid to lay before him my difficulties and my special ideas. It was not in the least that he intimidated me, for no one was ever more kindly or more charmingly simple than he; but I felt, at that time, a sort of contrast between the practice of literature and the pursuit of a certain rigor and of a complete intellectual sincerity. The question is infinitely delicate. Should I attempt to induce Mallarm6 to discuss it?

I was fond of him and valued him above everybody, but I myself had renounced the adora- tion of that which he had adored all his life, and to which he had offered up everything, and I could not bring my- self to let him know it. The point was that Mallarme's efforts, which were quite opposed to the doctrines and aims of his contemporaries, were tending to order the whole domain of letters through the general consideration of forms. It is remarkable in the extreme that, through the exhaustive study of his art and with no scientific education, he should have arrived at a conception so abstract and so close to the most abstruse speculations of certain of the sciences.

He never discussed his ideas except figuratively. Explaining anything explicit- ly was strangely repugnant to him. His profession, which he detested, counted for something in that aversion. But, in attempting to sum up to myself his tendencies, I al- lowed myself to formulate them in my own way. Ordi- nary literature seemed to me comparable to an arithmetic, that is to say, to an attempt to obtain particular results in which it was difficult to distinguish the principle from the example: But Paul Valery had already passed through a personal crisis as a result of which he had ceased to write verse.

Through sleepless nights Valery struggled with his emotions: The supreme crisis, the costly victory took place during a stormy night one of those storms of the Ligurian coast [he was at Genoa] which are not accom- panied by very much rain, but during which the lightning is so frequent and so bright that it gives the illusion of broad daylight. From that night none of the things which bad hitherto made up the life of the young man mattered any longer.

The "study of oneself for its own sake, the comprehension of that attention itself and the desire to trace clearly for oneself the nature of one's own existence" is the only thing which interests him now. Both Leonardo da Vinci and M. Head, a companion creation to Rabelais's Messer Gaster, Mr. The mind of Leonardo in itself is something im- measurably greater than any of its manifestations in par- ticular fields of activity painting, writing, engineering or strategy.

Action cramps and impoverishes the mind. For by itself the mind is able to deal with an infinite number of possibilities it is not constrained by the limitations of a field. The mind by itself is omnipotent. And conse- quently the method, the theory, of doing anything is more interesting than the thing done.

For the method may be applied so much more widely may be universally ap- plied. When a principle, in fact, "has been recognized and grasped, it is quite useless to waste one's time applying it. Teste, unlike Leonardo, does disdain to apply his method to anything. His whole existence is given up to the examination of his own intellectual processes. He is a symbol of the human consciousness isolated from "all the opinions and intellectual habits which spring from the common life and our external relations with other men," and disembarrassed of "all the sentiments and ideas which are engendered or excited in man by his misfor- tunes and his fears, his terrors and his hopes; and not freely by his sheer observations upon the world and upon himself.

Teste is, in fact, as his creator admits, frankly a monster. And though he exerts upon us a certain fascina- tion, we resent him he gives us the creeps. We sympa- thize with Mme. Teste, who is made uneasy by M. Teste's preoccupation, by his way of entering a room as if he did not sec it, by his addressing her as "Being" or "Thing. And he, when he awakes from his meditations, sometimes seizes upon her brusquely, as if with relief, appetite and surprise.

Teste are, after all, indis- pensable to each other. In , Valery marries a lady of Mallarme's circle. And at the end of twenty years, he begins writing again. Andr Gide has finally persuaded him to allow his early poems to be collected and published, and he has had the idea of adding to them a new poem of from twenty-five to fifty lines the last, perhaps, which he will ever write. But, in the meantime, during his period of retirement, he has studied psychology, physiology, mathematics he has be- come preoccupied with questions of method.

Then, these problems presenting themselves again; and one's dis- covering that one did not know one's trade; that the little poems one had written long ago had evaded all the diffi- culties, suppressed what they did not know how to ex- press; made use of an infantile language. It is an exercise, indeed intended as such, and worked and reworked: The matter is of small importance. At the last moment, when it is just about to be printed , Valery finds for it the title, "La Jeune Parque.

Valery speaks of the "rather monstrous copulation of my system, my methods and my musical exigencies with the classical conventions. Mal- larme's Herodiade and his Faun are the precursors of Valery's young Fate: But Valery has carried the subtleties of conception, the complexities of presentation, of this characteristically Symbolist form much further than Mallarm. Is "La Jeune Parque" the monologue of a young Fate, who has just been bitten by a snake?

Is it the revery of the poet himself, awakening early one morning in bed and lying more or less awake till dawn? Is it the voyage of the human consciousness testing out all its limitations, exploring all its horizons: They are confused and are always melting into one another and it is this which makes the ob- scurity of the poem.

The things that happen in "La Jeune Parque" and in Paul Valery's other mythological mono- logues the Narcissus, the Pythoness and the Serpent of the rich period of poetic activity which followed im- mediately upon "La Jeune Parque" are never, on the one hand, quite imaginable as incidents which are actually taking place and never, on the other hand, quite reducible merely to thoughts in the poet's mind.

The picture never quite emerges; the idea is never formulated quite. And for all the magnificences of sound, color, and suggestion which we find in these poems stanza by stanza, it seems to me that they are unsatisfactory because they are somehow not assimilable as wholes. Yet Paul Valery, when we put him beside Mallarme, whom he echoes in these poems so often, is seen to possess the more vigorous intellect and the more solid imagina- tion. Mallarme is always a painter, usually a water-color- ist he wrote verses for ladies' fans as he might have painted little figures and flowers on them.

He has his brightness and relief, but it is only such brightness and re- lief as is possible to someone working in the flat whereas Valery's genius is sculptural rather: And his verses carry off with the emphasis of an heroic resounding dic- tion reminiscent of Alfred de Vigny the fluid waverings, the coy ambiguities and the delicately caught nuances which he has learned from Mallarm.

Valery is, indeed, a sort of masculine of an art of which Mallarme is the feminine. The elements in Mallarm which made it possible for him to edit a woman's maga- zine and to write with his characteristic daintiness about styles in women's clothes is complemented, in Valry, by a genius more powerful and stout which has a natural affinity with that of the architect. And there is more substance in Valery than in Mallarme.

In spite of his insistence that it is only the form, only the method in his work which interests him, Vatery's poetry has a certain dramatic quality. He is preoccupied with a particular conflict the conflict between that part of man's existence which is represented by the abstraction of M.

Teste and that part which is submerged in the sensations, distracted by the accidents, of the everyday world. The gloves clenched and struck at the shadows formed by distant lightning. Soon the boxer was several feet high, and the gloves were the size of human fists. They struck at the vague shadows of the pavilion's interior. Dor backed away, knowing the blows had force. Attracted by his motion, and by the sharper shadow his body made, the plant leaned toward him.

The gloves were now larger than human fists, and mounted on vines as thick as human wrists. There were a dozen of them, several striking while several more recoiled for the next strike, keeping the plant as a whole in balance. Irene watched, a small gloat playing about her mouth. He didn't want to flee the pavilion; the storm had intensified and yellow rain was cascading off the roof. The booming of its fusillade was unnerving; there were too many hailstones mixed in, and it looked suspiciously like a suitable habitat for tornado wraiths.

She said she'd do something about it, if it weren't for the King. Now the boxing gloves had him boxed in, backed to the very edge of the pavilion. This was a yellow rain; did it leave a yellow streak? The plant was not bothering her, since she had enchanted it. Some ice would be good for your brain. Three more boxing gloves struck at him.

Dor plunged into the rain. He was instantly soaked again, but fortunately the hailstones were small and light and somewhat mushy. Irene's mocking laughter pursued him. Gusts of wind buffeted him savagely and lightning played about the sky. Dor knew he had no business being out in this storm, but he refused to return home. He ran into the jungle. The golem was clinging to his shoulder.

It was excellent advice; lightning bolts could do a lot of harm if they struck too near. After they had lain for a few hours on the ground and cooled off so that they were not so bright, they could be gathered and used for bolting together walls and things. But a fresh one could spear right through a man. Nevertheless, Dor kept running. The general frustration and confusion he felt inside exceeded that outside. He was not so confused as to blunder into the obvious hazards of the wilderness. The immediate Castle Roogna environs were spelled to be safe for people and their friends, but the deep jungle could not be rendered safe short of annihilation.

No spell would tame a tangle tree for long, or subdue a dragon. Instead, certain paths were protected, and the wise person remained on these paths. A lightning bolt cracked past him and buried its point in the trunk of a massive acorn tree, the brilliant length of the bolt quivering. It was a small one, but it had three good sharp jags and could have wiped Dor out if it had hit him. The tree trunk was blistering with the heat of it.

That was too close a miss. Dor ran across to the nearest charmed path, one bearing south. No bolts would strike him here. He knew the path's ultimate destination was the Magic Dust village, governed by trolls, but he had never gone that far. This time-well, he kept running, though his breath was rasping past his teeth. At least the exertion kept him warm. Dor had to laugh, and his mood lightened. The storm was lightening too, as if in tandem with his mood. The way he interacted with the inanimate, that was entirely possible. He slowed to a walk, breathing hard, but continued south. How he wished he had a big, strong, muscular body that could run without panting or knock the gloves right off shadowboxers, instead of this rather small, slight frame.

Of course, he didn't have his full growth yet, but he knew he would never be a giant. He never leaves his castle. The old gnome was always keen on information. Good thing, too; he's the one who showed me how to become real. Good thing for him, too; he met the gorgon, and you should have seen the flip she did over him, the first man she could talk to who didn't turn to stone.

Anyway, this storm was so bad it washed out some of the stars from the sky; they were floating in puddles. Stars wouldn't float in water. They would fizzle out in seconds! I was riding a flying fish at the time, so I couldn't see them too well. But it was some storm! His talent was translation, and he could interpret anything any creature said, but footfalls weren't language. It just might be-". Suddenly it loomed from the gloom. How could the enchantment have failed? We're supposed to be safe on these-". The ogre tramped on toward them, a towering hulk more than twice Dor's height and broad in proportion.

Its great gap-toothed mouth cracked open horrendously. An awful growl blasted out like the breath of a hungry dragon. I need my hands! He can't eat them. Ogres were great bone-crunchers. The ogre growled again. Then the golem did a double take. The expression most resembled the opening of a volcanic fissure. Gassy breath hissed out "You little loudmouthed twerp, hardly bigger than a burp. How's the little lady, she with hair like nettles and skin like mush, whose face would make a zombie blush?

Dor was beginning to be able to make out the words directly; the thing was speaking his language, but with a foul accent that nearly obliterated meaning. Dor was by this time reassured that the spell of the path had not failed. This ogre was harmless-well, no ogre was harmless, but at least not ravening-and therefore able to mix with men. Smash is the name of their baby," Grundy explained.

This recent storm was a mere drizzle to the ogres? No doubt Crunch used a lightning bolt for a toothpick. Nothing like a little quest to restore spirits! Crunch's search for his little one had fizzled, so he had asked for help, and few human beings ever had such a request from an ogre!

We'll run him down in no time! Crunch heaved a grateful sigh that almost blew Dor down. Quickly they went to the spot where the tyke had last been seen. Smash had, Crunch explained, been innocently chewing up nails, getting his daily ration of iron, then must have wandered away. I doubt I could get its specific attention. Anyway, much of it is alive-roots, bugs, germs, magic things. They mess up communication. Crunch followed as softly as he was able, so that the shuddering of the land did not quite drown out the rock's voice. Dor realized suddenly that he was in fact a Magician; no one else could accomplish such a search.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - Walkthrough

Irene's plant-growing magic was a strong talent, a worthy one, but it lacked the versatility of this. Her green thumb could not be turned to nonbotanic uses. A King, to rule Xanth, had to be able to exert his power effectively, as Magician Trent did. Trent could transform any enemy into a toad, and everyone in Xanth knew that. But Magician Trent was also smart; he used his talent merely to back up his brains and will.

What would a girl like Irene do, if she occupied the throne? Line the paths with shadowboxing plants? Dor's talent was far more effective; he could learn all the secrets anyone had except those never voiced or shown before an inanimate object. Knowledge was the root of power. Good Magician Humfrey knew that. Dor's attention snapped back to the surface.

Good thing the golem had stayed with him, instead of questioning creatures on his own; Dor had been mindlessly reacting to the ridge's directives, and now stood directly before a medium-sized tangle tree. Which was no doubt why Grundy had remained, knowing that Dor was prone to such carelessness. If little Smash had gone there-. Plants don't talk much anyway. The message needed no translation.

Dor, amazed, stepped forward. Dor stepped nervously into the circle normally commanded by the tangler. So the little ogre had steered just clear of the tree and gone on. A close call-for tyke and tree! But now the trail led toward the deep cleft of a nickelpede warren.

Nickelpedes would gouge disks out of the flesh of anything, even an ogre. If-but then the trail veered away. The ridge subsided, but there were a number of individual rocks in this vicinity, and they served as well, and on the trail went, meandering past a routine assortment of Xanth horrors: Plus similar threats, with which the wilderness abounded. Smash had avoided stepping into any traps, until at last the tyke had come to the lair of a flying dragon.

This time there was no doubt: Dragons were the lords of the jungle, as a class; specific monsters might prevail against specific dragons; but overall, dragons governed the wilds much as Man governed the tames. They could hear the dragon cubs entertaining themselves with some poor prey, happily scorching each potential route of escape. Dragon cubs needed practice to get their scorching up to par. A stationary target sufficed only up to a point; after that they needed live lures, to get their reflexes and aim properly tracked.

Crunch grimaced, and this time not even an ogress would have mistaken his ire. He stomped up to the scene of the crime. The ground danced under the impact of his footfalls, but the dragon's lair seemed secure. The lair's entrance was a narrow cleft that only the narrow torso of a small dragon could pass through. Crunch put one hand at each side of it and sent a brutal surge of power galumphing through his massively muscles.

The rock split asunder, and suddenly entrance was ogre-sized. The dragons were exposed, in their conservative nest of diamonds and heat-resistant jewels. The thing about fire-breathing dragons was that ordinary nest material led to burn up or melt or scorch unpleasantly, so diamonds were a dragon's best friend, a little ogre, no larger than Dor himself, stood amid three winged dragonets while the dragonlady glared benignly on. The ogreling was stoutly structured and would probably have been a match for any single dragon his size, but the three were making things hot for him.

There were scorch marks all about, though the little ogre seemed as yet unhurt. Dragons did like to play with their food before roasting it. Crunch did not even growl. He just leaned over and looked at the dragoness-and the smoke issuing from her mouth sank like chill fog to the floor. For Crunch massed as much as she did, and it would be redundant to specify the power-to-mass ratio of ogres.

She was not up to this snuff, not even with a belly full of fuel. She never moved a muscle, petrified as if she had locked gazes with a gorgon. Now Smash advanced on one dragonet. He hauled on the tail, swung the dragon around, and hurled it carelessly against the far wall. The second little dragon opened its mouth and wafted out a small column of fire. Smash exhaled with such force that the flame rammed right back inside the dragon, who was immediately overcome by a heated fit of coughing. The third dragonet, no coward, pounced on Smash with all four clawed feet extended.

Smash raised one fist. The dragon landed squarely on it, its head and tail whipping around to smack into each other. It fell on the bed of diamonds, stunned. Even the littlest ogre was tougher than its weight in dragons, when the odds were evened. Dor had not believed this, before; he had thought it was mere folklore. With his other fist, Crunch struck the nest so hard that the diamonds bounced out in a cloud, scattering all over the landscape. The dragoness winced; she would have a tedious cleanup chore to do.

Without a backward glance at her, they tramped away. Except for Grundy, who couldn't resist putting in a last word: You wouldn't like him when he's angry. Fortunately, Crunch was now in a good mood. This took some time; he was big but not smart. Daunted, Grundy responded quickly. He's not as big and strong as the big boys, but he has more magic, so they sort of-". Crunch cut him off with an impatient gesture. The ogre picked Dor up gently in one huge hand-fortunately not by the scruff of the neck-and carried him north along the path. Such was the ogre's stride, they were very soon at the edge of the Castle Roogna orchard.

He set Dor down and stood silently while boy and golem proceeded forward. He was certainly glad this monster was a vegetarian. Crunch did not respond. Frozen in his hunched-over posture, he most resembled the massive stump of a burned-out gnarlbole tree. Awkwardly, Dor went on toward his home, passing near the umbrella tree. As luck would have it, the two bullies were still there.

Both jumped up when they saw Dor, and eager for sport, ran out to bar his way. A sonic boom went off behind Dor. Then the ground shuddered. The bullies looked around wildly, fearing an avalanche from nowhere. There was another shudder, jarring Dor's teeth. It was the ogre tramping forward under full steam.

Horsejaw's mouth fell open as he saw that monster bearing down on him. He was too startled to move. The other boy tried to run, but the ground shook so violently that he fell on his face and lay there. Several small snakes appeared, squiggled nervously, and vanished; no help there. If there were any more sonic booms, they were drowned out by the violence of the ogre's approach.

Crunch strode up until he loomed over the small party, his thick torso dwarfing the slender metal trunk of a nearby ironwood tree. At least, Dor thought it was the wind that did it; the boy looked terrified. The ogre's fist smashed into the trunk of the iron-wood tree. There was a nearly deafening clang.

A tubular section of iron sprang out, leaving the top of the tree momentarily suspended in air; then it dropped heavily and fell over with a crash that made the ground shake once more. Ironwood was solid stuff! An acrid wisp of smoke wafted up from the stump: Crunch selected a jagged splinter of iron, picked his teeth with it, and wheeled about.

His monstrous horny toes gouged a furrow from the path in the process. He tramped thunderously back south, humming a merry tune of bloodshed. In a moment he was gone, but the vibration of the terrain took a long time to quiet. Away in the palace, there was the tinkling crash of a window shattering. Horsejaw stood looking at the iron stump. His eyes flickered momentarily to Dor, then back to the steaming metal. Dor was not teased much any more. No one wanted to upset his friend. But this hardly eased his unrest. The teasing had not bothered him as much as it had bothered Grundy; Dor had always known he could use his superior magic to bring others into line, if he really had to.

It was his general isolation from others that weighed on him, and his new awareness of Millie the ghost. What a difference there was between a brat like Irene and a woman like Millie! Yet Irene was the one Dor was expected to get along with. He needed to talk with someone. His parents were approachable, but Chameleon varied so much in appearance and intellect that he never could be certain how to approach her, and Bink might not be sympathetic to this particular problem.

Besides which, both of them were away on a trip to Mundania, on business for the King. The Land of Xanth was busy establishing diplomatic relations with Mundania, and after the centuries of bad relations this was a touchy matter, requiring the utmost finesse. So Dor's parents were out. Grundy would chat with him anytime-but the former golem was apt to get too cute about other people's problems.

Such as calling Irene's green-thumb talent "stinkfinger. Grundy cared, all right-that was how he had become a real, living person-but he didn't really understand. Anyhow, he knew Dor too well. Dor's grandfather Roland, whose talent was the stun-the ability to freeze people immobile-was a good man to talk to, but he was at his home in the North Village, a good two days' travel across the Gap. There was only one person Dor could approach who was human, competent, mature, discreet, male, and an equivalent Magician.

That was the King. He knew the King was a busy man; it seemed the trade arrangements with Mundania were constantly complex, and of course there were many local problems to be handled. But King Trent always made time for Dor. Perhaps that was one root of Irene's hostility, which had spread to the Queen and the palace personnel in insidious channels.

Irene talked to her father less than Dor did. So Dor tried not to abuse his Magician's privilege. But this time he simply had to go. He picked Grundy up and marched to the palace. The palace was actually Castle Roogna. For many years it had been a castle that was not a palace, deserted and forlorn, but King Trent had changed that. Now it was the seat of government of Xanth, as it had been in its youth. Crombie the soldier stood guard at the drawbridge across the moat.

This was mainly to remind visitors to stay clear of the water, because the moat-monsters were not tame. One would think that was evident, but every few months some fool wandered too close, or tried to swim in the murky water, or even attempted to feed some tidbit to a monster by hand. Such attempts were invariably successful; sometimes the monster got the whole person, sometimes only the hand. Crombie was asleep on his feet. Grundy took advantage of this to generate some humor at the soldier's expense.

One eye cracked open. Immediately Grundy rephrased his greeting. Both eyes came open, rolling expressively. I had a weekend pass. So that was why the soldier was so sleepy! Crombie's wife lived in underground caverns south of the Magic Dust village; it was a long way to travel on short notice.

But that was not exactly what Crombie meant. He had the royal travel-conjurer zap him to the caverns, and back again when his pass expired, Crombie's fatigue was not from traveling. Dor understood, more or less; he just didn't see the humor in it. That had special meaning too. Nymphs were ideally shaped female creatures of little intellect, useful primarily for man's passing entertainment. It was strange that Crombie had married one. But he had been under an omen of marriage, and Jewel was said to be a very special nymph, with unusual wit for the breed, who had an important job.

Dor had asked his father about Jewel once, since none of the local artifacts knew about her, but Bink had answered evasively. That was part of the reason Dor didn't want to ask his father about Millie. Millie was nymphlike at times, and evasions were disquieting. Had there been something between-?

Allied Froth: The Corporation

Anyway, this sort of information could not be elicited from inanimate objects; they did not understand living feelings at all. They were purely objective. He was asleep again. They went on into the palace. Suddenly a three-headed wolf stalked out before them, growling fiercely. Relieved, Dor walked right into the wolf-and through it. The monster was mere illusion, a construct of the Queen. She resented his presence here, and her illusions were so proficient that there was no direct to tell them from reality except by touch-which be dangerous if something happened not to be an illusion.

But his magic had nullified hers, as it usually did; she could never fool him long. It was replaced by an image of the Queen herself, regal in robe and crown. She always enhanced her appearance for company; she was sort of dumpy in real flesh. The Queen did not conceal her dislike of him, but she would not dare misrepresent the position of the King.

She would inform Dor when the King was free. Actually, the drawing room did not contain any drawings, only one huge tapestry hung on the wall. This had once been a bedroom; Dor's father mentioned sleeping in it once, back before Castle Roogna was restored. In fact Dor himself had slept in it, earlier in life; he remembered being fascinated by the great tapestry. Now the bed had been replaced by a couch, but the tapestry remained as intriguing as ever. It was embroidered with scenes from the ancient past of Castle Roogna and its environs, eight hundred years ago.

In one section was the Castle, its battlements under construction by a herd of centaurs; in other sections were the deep wilderness of Xanth, the awful Gap dragon, villages protected by stockades-such defenses were no longer used-and other castles. In fact there were more castles than there were today. The more Dor looked at it, the more he saw-for the figures in the tapestry moved when watched. Since everything was more or less in proportion, the representations of men were tiny; the tip of his little finger could cover one of them over.

But every detail seemed authentic. The whole lives of these people were shown, if one cared to watch long enough. Of course, their lives proceeded at the same rate contemporary lives did, so Dor had never seen a whole life pass; he would be an old man before that happened. And of course the process had to have some reasonable cessation, because otherwise the tapestry would long since have passed beyond the Castle Roogna stage and gotten right up to the present.

So there were aspects of this magic Dor had not yet fathomed; he just had to accept what he saw. Meanwhile, the tapestry figures worked and slept and fought and loved, in miniature. What adventures he had seen, years ago, riveted to this moving picture. Swordsmen and dragons and fair ladies and magic of every type, going on and on! But all in baffling silence; without words, much of the action became meaningless.

Why did this swordsman battle this dragon, yet leave that other dragon alone? Why did the chambermaid kiss this courtier, and not that one, though that one was handsomer? Who was responsible for this particular enchantment? And why was that centaur so angry after a liaison with his filly? There was so much of it going on at once that it was hard to fathom any overall pattern. He had asked Millie about it, and she had gladly told him the valiant tales of her youth-for she had been young at the time of Castle Roogna's construction.

But though her tales were more cohesive than those of the moving pictures of the tapestry, they were also more selective. Millie did not enjoy healthy bloodshed or deadly peril or violent love; she preferred episodes of simple joy and family accommodation. That sort of thing could get dull after a while. Also, she never talked about herself, after she had left her native stockade.

Nothing about her own life and loves, or how she became a ghost. And she wouldn't tell how she had come to know the zombie Jonathan, though this could have happened quite naturally in the course of eight centuries of lonely association in Castle Roogna. Dor wondered whether, if he should ever happen to be a ghost for eight hundred years, zombies might begin to look good to him.

At any rate, his thirst for knowledge had been frustrated, and he had finally given it up. Why hadn't he simply made the tapestry itself talk to him, answering his questions? Dor didn't remember, so he asked the tapestry: He could learn from it whether a fly had sat on it in the past hour, but not the motive of an eight-hundred-years-gone Magician. Now, as Dor contemplated the images, his old interest in history resurged. What a world that had been, back during the celebrated Fourth Wave of human colonization of Xanth!

Then adventure had reigned supreme. Not dullness, as in the present. A giant frog appeared. It was of course another illusion of Queen Iris; she was forever showing off her versatility,.

He always knew when he could slip in a healthy insult without paying for it. The Queen disliked compromising her illusions. Dor, With superhuman effort, kept his face straight. The Queen could still be watching, in the guise of a no-see-'em gnat or something. There were times when Grundy's caustic wit got him into trouble, but it was worth it. The King's library was also upstairs, just a few doors down.

That was where the King was always to be found when not otherwise occupied-and sometimes even when he was. It was not supposed to be generally known, but Dor had pried the news out of the furniture: The King never did that with Dor, however. Dor proceeded directly to the library, noting a ghost flitting across the dusky hall farther down. Millie had been one of half a dozen ghosts, and the only one to be restored to life; the others still hovered about their haunts. Dor rather liked them; they were friendly but rather shy, and were easily spooked.

He was sure each had its story, but like Millie they were diffident about themselves. He knocked at the library door. He always seemed to know when Dor came calling, even when the Queen was not around to inform him. Suddenly it hardly seemed so. The King was a solid, graying man old enough to be Dor's grandfather, yet still handsome.

He wore a comfortable robe, somewhat faded and threadbare; he depended on the Queen to garb him in illusion befitting whatever occasion occurred, so needed no real clothes. At the moment he was highly relaxed and informal, and Dor knew this was intended to make Dor himself feel the same. My eyes are tired enough already! How are things with you? The King was giving him an opening; why couldn't he speak his mind?

Irene was a pretty girl; her father surely knew that already. She made plants grow-but she should have been more powerfully talented. However, even mature women are not always explicable. They seem to change overnight into completely different creatures. Her talent makes her unsuitable for normal positions around the palace, so she has served admirably as a governess at your cottage.

Now you are growing up, and must begin to train for adult responsibilities. It was not the Queen-frog who had the big mouth; it was Grundy!

Foamed Lightweight Concrete

Do not be concerned about my daughter; she is not Magician level and cannot assume the office unless there is no Magician available, and then only on an interim basis until a Magician appears, preserving continuity of government. Should I be removed from the picture in the next decade, you will have to take over. It is better that you be prepared. You lack the experience and fortitude to use it properly. I would be remiss if I did not arrange to provide you with that experience.

You have not yet been hardened to the occasional ruthlessness required. He had just received a potent rebuke, and knew it was justified. For a Magician to give way to the likes of Horse-jaw-. One whose completion will demonstrate your competence for the office you are coming to.

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