Sometimes, the fable works its way into the poetic just as well as it does into traditional literature. Though perhaps of different form and voice today, such methodology was popular in the early 20th century, when poets like the Anglo-French writer Hilaire Belloc walked the streets of Europe.
Belloc, the man under the spotlight at tonight’s pub, was a writer that enjoyed mixing the cautionary with the religious. A patriotic man, and a cutting figure of his day, Belloc was a son of France, a graduate of Oxford, and later in life, a naturalized citizen of Britain. He married American Elodie Hogan, and lived to see five children with her, before her untimely death in 1914–a death he would mourn until his own end of days by stroke in 1941. He was also a volatile pursuer of debate–some of his most famous being his open quarrels with writer H.G. Wells and the concepts of natural selection.
A sample of his poetry today comes in the form of the poem “Jim, who ran away from his Nurse and was eaten by a Lion.” In case you couldn’t tell from the title, that mix of the cautionary and religious nevertheless often combined in his writings in the form of humor–how else would you connect to the children, after all?
His Friends were very good to him.
They gave him Tea, and Cakes, and Jam,
And slices of delicious Ham,
And Chocolate with pink inside
And little Tricycles to ride,
And read him Stories through and through,
And even took him to the Zoo–
But there it was the dreadful Fate
Befell him, which I now relate.
You know–or at least you ought to know,
For I have often told you so–
That Children never are allowed
To leave their Nurses in a Crowd;
Now this was Jim’s especial Foible,
He ran away when he was able,
And on this inauspicious day
He slipped his hand and ran away!
He hadn’t gone a yard when–Bang!
With open Jaws, a lion sprang,
And hungrily began to eat
The Boy: beginning at his feet.
Now, just imagine how it feels
When first your toes and then your heels,
And then by gradual degrees,
Your shins and ankles, calves and knees,
Are slowly eaten, bit by bit.
No wonder Jim detested it!
No wonder that he shouted “Hi!”
The Honest Keeper heard his cry,
Though very fat he almost ran
To help the little gentleman.
“Ponto!” he ordered as he came
(For Ponto was the Lion’s name),
“Ponto!” he cried, with angry Frown,
“Let go, Sir! Down, Sir! Put it down!”
The Lion made a sudden stop,
He let the Dainty Morsel drop,
And slunk reluctant to his Cage,
Snarling with Disappointed Rage.
But when he bent him over Jim,
The Honest Keeper’s Eyes were dim.
The Lion having reached his Head,
The Miserable Boy was dead!
When Nurse informed his Parents, they
Were more Concerned than I can say:–
His Mother, as She dried her eyes,
Said, “Well–it gives me no surprise,
He would not do as he was told!”
His Father, who was self-controlled,
Bade all the children round attend
To James’s miserable end,
And always keep a-hold of Nurse
For fear of finding something worse.
great you’re back with pretzels and bullfights chris.. the poem made me smile..reminded me of my uncle who was telling me the story of the “nachtkrab” kind of a dangerous bird, and i was scared to death when i had to make the way to my grandma’s house in the dark…but i never got eaten…so that’s good news..smiles
Hansel und Gretl story used to haunt my sleep AND my sister (ages 3 and 4). But ya know? I had to read this all the way through!!
Thanks for a special one.
welcome back brother….hope life is treating you well…fables are fun…fantastical but also a point…maybe to scare children into submission…haha…cool spotlight chris…
Yes, it’s good to have you back, Chris, and with a surprising (to me) side of Belloc. Very fun.
Neat! Very neat indeed! Does anyone remember “Little Orphan Annie” by James Whitcomb Riley with its refrain “an’ the Gobble-uns ‘at git you ef you don’t watch out!” which haunted all the stairwells of my childhood? Both, I am sure, helped Edward Gorey get where he wanted to go.
He’s one of my favourite poets. While this is delightful in its own way, I love his serious poems even more, for their delicate beauty.
Jim reminds me much of Maurice Sendak’s Pierre, who did not care, and was also eaten by a lion.
Chris, I’m a bit newer here at the pub. I’ve read bits of Belloc here and there (sounds like what the lion spat out!), but this is a riot as well as sad, especially the reactions of his nitwit parents. Cautionary tale, indeed, the “never put your hand outside a moving bus” type! Best, Amy
Makes me think of “Pierre” by Carole King and Maurice Sendak though without the happy ending.
Yay Maurice! And…to Shel Silverstein (who wrote the poem) and Peter Paul and Mary (who turned it into a song) “I’m being eaten by a Boa Constrictor” …oh no, oh no, he swallowed my toe, oh gee, he’s up to my knee…”
thank you Chris, this was a lot of fun 🙂
Hilarious combination of grim and bloodthirsty doings, doomed children and outrageous humor–what could be better designed to get a child’s ineterest and keep it while making a point? Enjoyed it, Chris, and enjoyed seeing you back manning the pretzel bowl and overseeing the bullfights. Hope all is well with you.
Chris – am only vaguely familiar with Belloc and certainly had not read this before … it’s delightful. Thanks for the info and the poem