Pied Piper of Hamelin: the children left behind

Excerpt from The Pied Piper of Hamelin, by Robert Browning, 1842 (lines 208 - 255)

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood
As if they were changed into blocks of wood,
Unable to move a step, or cry
To the children merrily skipping by,
-- Could only follow with the eye
That joyous crowd at the Piper's back.
But how the Mayor was on the rack,
And the wretched Council's bosoms beat,
As the Piper turned from the High Street
To where the Weser rolled its waters
Right in the way of their sons and daughters!
However he turned from South to West,
And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,
And after him the children pressed;
Great was the joy in every breast.
"He never can cross that mighty top!
"He's forced to let the piping drop,
"And we shall see our children stop!"
When, lo, as they reached the mountain-side,
A wondrous portal opened wide,
As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;
And the Piper advanced and the children followed,
And when all were in to the very last,
The door in the mountain-side shut fast.
Did I say, all? No! One was lame,
And could not dance the whole of the way;
And in after years, if you would blame
His sadness, he was used to say, --
"It's dull in our town since my playmates left!
"I can't forget that I'm bereft
"Of all the pleasant sights they see,
"Which the Piper also promised me.
"For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,
"Joining the town and just at hand,
"Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew,
"And flowers put forth a fairer hue,
"And everything was strange and new;
"The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,
"And their dogs outran our fallow deer,
"And honey-bees had lost their stings,
"And horses were born with eagles' wings;
"And just as I became assured
"My lame foot would be speedily cured,
"The music stopped and I stood still,
"And found myself outside the hill,
"Left alone against my will,
"To go now limping as before,
"And never hear of that country more!"
---

Of all the versions of The Pied Piper of Hamelin, this verse by Robert Browning is perhaps the most famous -- at least within the Western Anglophone world.

For a long while, I wondered if the piteous figure of the little lame boy, who desperately wanted to keep up with his playmates, but could not, was an invention of Browning's -- a romantic figure to tug at the heartstrings.

But a version of the story collected by the Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm: The Children of Hameln (Translated by D. L. Ashliman), also includes the detail of two children who were kept back by their "impairments": A blind boy, who could hear the music, but not see the trail, and a mute (deaf) child, who could see the trail, but could not hear the music.

Two things strike me about the depiction of Disability in these two versions. On the one hand, they're each an open acknowledgement that "all" doesn't necessarily mean All -- that not every child (and hence, every adult) can do everything in the same way as the majority. Some of us have to take the long way 'round, and thus we can't keep up and reach the "Promised Land." On the other hand, these impairments are also depicted as extremely isolating. Why didn't the deaf child and the blind child work together, for example?*

Of course, what seems like a tragedy at first may end up being a happy ending, and what seems a golden promise turns out to be a poisoned one. In a few other versions of the story (compiled, along with the Grimms' story linked to above, by Dr. Ashliman), the grown-ups eventually learn that the children who were led away ended up being sold into slavery, or taken off to war, and killed in battle. And thus, those marked as "Weak" and "Outcast" when things are going well, end up being the founders of the next generation after disaster strikes. Ultimately, these children -- the ones left behind -- are put in their perennial role of Omen-bearers, acting (unwillingly) as both witness and Sign that their society had fallen out of balance, and had become corrupted, incurring some Divine Wrath.**

We could, as a society, choose to be aware of those we are shutting out, and leaving in isolation. And we could choose to change, and be more inclusive. It is possible. Some would say it's even simple. That might be the first step in overturning our corruption, and bringing our society back into balance. It's far easier, though, to wrap ourselves in pity and sentimentality, and keep on doing as we've always done.

But either way, we're going to have to pay the piper, someday. How we pay is the choice before us.

-------------



*Though this particular view of Disability may be a quirk of the Western, European, culture this story comes from; for comparison, see the Aesop Fable The Blind Man and the Lame Man

**For an explanation of the link between Disability and Prophecy, see this entry, which I posted last April: Monsters: a Key motif, and a Symbol of Disability

That's so lame!

(Quote)
CELIA: Didst thou hear these verses?

ROSALIND: O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.

CELIA: That's no matter: the feet might bear the verses.

ROSALIND: Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the verse and therefore stood lamely in the verse. (unquote)

As You Like It, Act 3, scene 2 (William Shakespeare, circa 1600).

Usually, when I hear "lame" used as an insult these days (as in: "That TV show is so lame, I can't believe you watch it!"), I flinch inside, even though I sometimes catch myself thinking it.

I'm familiar with the arguments, and perhaps you are, too, that its original meaning is totally obsolete (except maybe when people are talking about horses or other animals), and that no one really thinks of mobility impaired humans when they hear the word, anymore. So no one should seriously consider it a derogatory slur, in the same way that the N word is used. Personally, I find that argument unconvincing. And back in December of 2010, a blogger who goes by the screen name "lauradhel" gathered an archive of modern usage that refutes that argument, here: "I don't even THINK about disability when I say or hear 'lame!' No one does!"

But even without such contemporary evidence, the word 'lame' is still heard regularly in common passages from the Bible, and, yes, in folklore. So that original meaning is a part of our cultural context. And, yes, it does reinforce the idea that anything (or anyone) described as 'lame' is unworthy of even a moment's consideration.

But 'lame' does not bother me as much in the passage I cited, above. In the context of poetry writing, "foot" and "feet" have a specific meaning, and therefore, this exchange works both as an extended pun and a personification. And, frankly, I'm a sucker for a good (or bad) pun.

A "foot" in a line of verse is the smallest unit of rhythm of stressed and unstressed syllables, just as a "bit" is the smallest unit of ones and zeros in a line of computer code. The term comes to us from the ancient Greeks (yup, them again), since choral dancers would dance to the rhythm of spoken or sung line -- tapping with their toes on the short syllables, and stamping with their heels on the long syllables. English doesn't have such a clear delineation between "short" and "long," so for us, it's stressed and unstressed.

For example, if ancient choral dancers chanted this:

"'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house"

Their accompanying footwork would go like this:

Toe-toe-heel, toe-toe-heel, toe-toe-heel, toe-toe-heel

Or, to:

"Hi-ho! Hi-ho! It's off to work we go!"

This:

Toe-heel, toe-heel, toe-heel, toe-heel, toe-heel.


So when Shakespeare (in the voice of Rosalind) remarks that: "...the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse," he is making double comparison.

The first is a comparison between the uneven rhythm of a poetic line and the uneven rhythm of a lame person's walk -- with heels and toes dragging and stumbling along. The second comparison is between a line of verse and a crutch -- which (I find) is a striking visual. A line of poetry is straight, crafted from ink, and stretches horizontally across a page; a crutch is straight, carved from wood, and supports a person's weight vertically.

So this use of "lame" acknowledges the fact that lame people exist, and that members of his audience would recognize how a lame person's walk differs from that of the able-bodied. Using "lame" to put down a TV show, or someone's fashion sense (or whatever) -- what does that even mean -- other than: "it's boring," or "I don't like it"?

Perhaps that's another reason the modern use of 'lame' as an insult grates on my nerves: it's lazy. If you can't be bothered to put any more thought into your criticism than that, perhaps you should remain quiet on the subject. As my mother oft said: "If you complain of being bored, maybe it's because you're boring."