I think it makes a difference when you know this boy really existed, the son of a French naval Commander. He and his father died on the same ship during the Battle of the Nile between the French and the English in 1798. The father was already either dead or dying while the boy foundered. These naval battles were brutal and horrible, with men regularly having their limbs blown off by cannonballs. Imagine taking your young son to war with you in these circumstances! And news of the boy's death must have travelled widely, since it reached Felicia Hemans, whose version reached innumerable others across both time and distance. We don't know for sure exactly how old he was, poor lad, but apparently not more than 13. And we don't really know exactly the circumstances of his death: the poem is her imagined vision of what happened, in which she makes him both victim and hero. Poets like to dramatise. We do know for certain that he died in horrible circumstances, and that war then and now is a vile thing that shouldn't (but still does) kill children. When a poem is famous enough to be parodied, it's a kind of compliment, I always think. Every tragedy has its jokes, and jokes often thrive on the worst of life.
I feel really bad after reading this. I too listened to the comic versions of this by the likes of Eric and Doddy. The version I particularly recall was 'The boy stood on the burning deck playing a game of cricket, etc etc. and found it amusing as you do at a young age.
It was about the period of Lloyd Webber and Rice's Jesus Christ Superstar when we, or more probably someother wit, changed the words to
Georgie Best ,Superstar.
Wears frilly knickers and he wears a bra.
I am ashamed to say I didn't even realise Casiabianca was written by Felicia Herman's, [I, in my ignorance think I thought it was Coleridge or someone similar ]and I, who claim to have a good knowledge of the Napoleonic wars didn't realise the full story of poor little Casiabianca. I therefore appreciate you sending this as I have read and appreciated it properly and I've also been looking at Felicia Hemans, who seems a rather interesting person
Haha- There’s no shame in thinking it was by some other poet. I thought It was just a music hall joke until I found it in that book. And our Jesus Christ Superstar wore frilly knickers and a woman’s bra, which was much more scandalous than wearing a bra which had been specially made for a man.
Let us not forget the mosquitos, sorry, misquotes like that of Admiral Nelson, who actually said to Hardy: "Kiss my arse". But joking aside, which is perpetually harder than standing on a blazing ship, in Mike's company, I am grateful to receive the correct version of this poem.
For all my wanton refute for rhyme, I've never decried its appropriation in proper context. And here is an example of the poetic excellence where the device is all but invisible - because the story spell-binds. At least to my 20th century mind, which paid great heed to my 19th century elders - and guess who influenced them. The traditions or whatever we might call them of decency that got confused so easily with decency v common sense due to unbending loyalties is perhaps a concept modern readers cannot grasp.
Which brings me sneeringly to an ex-theoretical media studies student comment on mass media - and it's rôle(s) in the dialogue of tradition and speech. Readers might be more familiar with 'the dialogue of music', whereby styles and tunes handed down whether by ear or in scores are modified, if only subtly or slightly, for various uses and interpretations. Until finally, just like the poetic joke mentioned here, the original can virtually disappear.
We all might be familiar with how every generation 'throws a hero up the pop chart' (Simon). Which basically is embroiled with the way every generation wants away with their parents likes and ways etc to replace it with the opposite - even if their reasons are the same as all previous generations. Hippies and Hell's Angels all wanted a better world, the hippies trying to see the best in people, the Angels trying to punish in anger. And the Punks thought they were new and right, yes they were, yes they were, but just wrong about how to be right. I found that insulting my elders in whatever form only worsened the issue, and yer can't change people's minds. There are better ways - but that doesn't mean old stuff is crap - just harder to understand, especially when morals are so damn flappy these days that telly thinks nowt of putting dissected corpses in suitcases for entertainment.
For a more serious look, books like 'Power Without Responsibility', and work by Saussure on "Langue et Parole' might introduce the thinker to understanding why dickheads don't get their poetry, why dickheads mess with tradition and how perhaps a core strength often misunderstood or misplaced as upper class is actually a valid and qualitative heritage. (https://www.literatureandcriticism.com/langue-and-parole/). Take also for example how old belief systems saw Christmas time in their own locality. Jesus was a fab bloke, but it's a system developed in the East, as was Buddhism. We might romantically adopt them or adapt to them, trendily wear rosaries n stuff - but here around North West Europe we had our own scenes which weren't all about dieing wi' boots on.
Great insightful essay Mike, and a promise of things to come in the next 60-Odd chapter/phase/scene.
If there's one thing I like as much as my Sunday read, it's shooting my gob off in reaction to this stuff - a sensible and production literary critique. Au revoir, paradigm ancient. As we stuck-up pratts say, or rather "Never mind the Pistols, here's the Sex Bollox"
I think it makes a difference when you know this boy really existed, the son of a French naval Commander. He and his father died on the same ship during the Battle of the Nile between the French and the English in 1798. The father was already either dead or dying while the boy foundered. These naval battles were brutal and horrible, with men regularly having their limbs blown off by cannonballs. Imagine taking your young son to war with you in these circumstances! And news of the boy's death must have travelled widely, since it reached Felicia Hemans, whose version reached innumerable others across both time and distance. We don't know for sure exactly how old he was, poor lad, but apparently not more than 13. And we don't really know exactly the circumstances of his death: the poem is her imagined vision of what happened, in which she makes him both victim and hero. Poets like to dramatise. We do know for certain that he died in horrible circumstances, and that war then and now is a vile thing that shouldn't (but still does) kill children. When a poem is famous enough to be parodied, it's a kind of compliment, I always think. Every tragedy has its jokes, and jokes often thrive on the worst of life.
I feel really bad after reading this. I too listened to the comic versions of this by the likes of Eric and Doddy. The version I particularly recall was 'The boy stood on the burning deck playing a game of cricket, etc etc. and found it amusing as you do at a young age.
It was about the period of Lloyd Webber and Rice's Jesus Christ Superstar when we, or more probably someother wit, changed the words to
Georgie Best ,Superstar.
Wears frilly knickers and he wears a bra.
I am ashamed to say I didn't even realise Casiabianca was written by Felicia Herman's, [I, in my ignorance think I thought it was Coleridge or someone similar ]and I, who claim to have a good knowledge of the Napoleonic wars didn't realise the full story of poor little Casiabianca. I therefore appreciate you sending this as I have read and appreciated it properly and I've also been looking at Felicia Hemans, who seems a rather interesting person
Haha- There’s no shame in thinking it was by some other poet. I thought It was just a music hall joke until I found it in that book. And our Jesus Christ Superstar wore frilly knickers and a woman’s bra, which was much more scandalous than wearing a bra which had been specially made for a man.
Let us not forget the mosquitos, sorry, misquotes like that of Admiral Nelson, who actually said to Hardy: "Kiss my arse". But joking aside, which is perpetually harder than standing on a blazing ship, in Mike's company, I am grateful to receive the correct version of this poem.
For all my wanton refute for rhyme, I've never decried its appropriation in proper context. And here is an example of the poetic excellence where the device is all but invisible - because the story spell-binds. At least to my 20th century mind, which paid great heed to my 19th century elders - and guess who influenced them. The traditions or whatever we might call them of decency that got confused so easily with decency v common sense due to unbending loyalties is perhaps a concept modern readers cannot grasp.
Which brings me sneeringly to an ex-theoretical media studies student comment on mass media - and it's rôle(s) in the dialogue of tradition and speech. Readers might be more familiar with 'the dialogue of music', whereby styles and tunes handed down whether by ear or in scores are modified, if only subtly or slightly, for various uses and interpretations. Until finally, just like the poetic joke mentioned here, the original can virtually disappear.
We all might be familiar with how every generation 'throws a hero up the pop chart' (Simon). Which basically is embroiled with the way every generation wants away with their parents likes and ways etc to replace it with the opposite - even if their reasons are the same as all previous generations. Hippies and Hell's Angels all wanted a better world, the hippies trying to see the best in people, the Angels trying to punish in anger. And the Punks thought they were new and right, yes they were, yes they were, but just wrong about how to be right. I found that insulting my elders in whatever form only worsened the issue, and yer can't change people's minds. There are better ways - but that doesn't mean old stuff is crap - just harder to understand, especially when morals are so damn flappy these days that telly thinks nowt of putting dissected corpses in suitcases for entertainment.
For a more serious look, books like 'Power Without Responsibility', and work by Saussure on "Langue et Parole' might introduce the thinker to understanding why dickheads don't get their poetry, why dickheads mess with tradition and how perhaps a core strength often misunderstood or misplaced as upper class is actually a valid and qualitative heritage. (https://www.literatureandcriticism.com/langue-and-parole/). Take also for example how old belief systems saw Christmas time in their own locality. Jesus was a fab bloke, but it's a system developed in the East, as was Buddhism. We might romantically adopt them or adapt to them, trendily wear rosaries n stuff - but here around North West Europe we had our own scenes which weren't all about dieing wi' boots on.
Great insightful essay Mike, and a promise of things to come in the next 60-Odd chapter/phase/scene.
If there's one thing I like as much as my Sunday read, it's shooting my gob off in reaction to this stuff - a sensible and production literary critique. Au revoir, paradigm ancient. As we stuck-up pratts say, or rather "Never mind the Pistols, here's the Sex Bollox"