The King Who Saved Himself from Being Saved by John Ciardi

First published: 1965; illustrated

Subjects: Social issues and war

Type of work: Poetry

Recommended Ages: 10-18

Form and Content

On the surface, this little poem of 168 lines is an amusing fairy tale with a twist: A knight in armor suddenly appears, disturbs the peace of the kingdom, and becomes the one who must be conquered. The lighthearted tone adds a sharp edge to the underlying satire, which mocks the concept of the hero, the heroic ideal, and the whole fairyland tradition. Here, the kingdom is in a languid state of peace, and the direst threat is only a virus, which has afflicted the queen with a cold. The princess whiles away her time in the tower listening to a lark, and the giant lolls in the park smelling the flowers.

Into this tranquil world of sylvan repose and prosperity—the king thinks of exerting himself only to count his gold—the would-be savior noisily appears. Fiercely he insists on slaying the giant and saving the kingdom. Claiming the princess as his bride, as well as half the kingdom, is also among his plans. The queen is aroused from her bed; the giant runs away and hides. The knight’s bellicose manner frightens the larks, and the princess, far from being enthralled, bursts into tears. The king, shocked but unintimidated by the clamorous intruder, orders him to leave or be shot. The king’s only ambition is to allow his kingdom to fade peacefully into fairy myth and become “Long Ago and Far Away.” Finally, he commands his cannoneer to fire at the knight and thus saves the kingdom from being saved.

This playful make-believe is cast in a form familiar to readers of old ballads: four-line stanzas with alternate rhymes. The pace is smooth and quick, running from a longer line of four stresses to a shorter one of three stresses through each of the forty-two quatrains. This pattern is used for a variety of narrative effects, such as a quick, summary conclusion of the previous line, or an amusing, unexpected turn: “The King was thinking of counting his gold/ But went to sleep instead.” The language is as simple as the story itself, and the plot is hurried along by dialogue. Poet John Ciardi plays with the syntax in a way that adds to the self-mockery: “—So there was a Lark. In, as I say,/ The tree I put there to be . . . .” Adding to the amusement is commentary about what constitutes a proper fairy tale. There must be a giant, a castle to be saved, a princess to be won, and a hero, and so the storyteller includes them, along with larks aplenty—because, as he says in the beginning, “all the poems I ever see/ Put all their larks in the air.” So that readers will not take this pleasantry too seriously, the poet continually reminds them that he is fabricating his tale as one should: “A (naturally) Princess in (yes) a Tower/ Was listening to (what else?) the Lark.”

The drawings by Edward Gorey lend flawless accompaniment to the mythical atmosphere. A scaled creature with wings and a pointed tale looks dangerous, but he turns out to be as tame and frolicsome as a canine pet. The realistic details of the drawings contrast with their playful use. Large piggy banks lie scattered about the throne, the princess swoons in the tower with her head cushioned by passing clouds, and the approaching knight dominates the crest of a mountain far away. The pictorial sharpness of the artist’s work makes the unreality of the fairy world clearer.

Critical Context

The text of the poem was first published in The Saturday Review of November 14, 1964; the book edition has a twelve-line rhymed dedication to James Cubeta. This work showcases John Ciardi’s talent for appealing to both adults and children and is a testament to his popularity. He wrote several children’s books, including I Met a Man (1961) and The Wish-Tree (1962). His adult readers would know him not only as a poet of considerable reputation but as a teacher, editor, and critic as well. His work is never far from either the serious or the witty and playful, as The King Who Saved Himself from Being Saved demonstrates.

The poet’s intent in composing this tale may not have been to awaken children to the danger of believing too much in romantic ideals, but this message is inescapable, certainly to the adult reader. Appearing at a time when the concept of Camelot was perhaps at its crest, a year after the assassination of its chief inspiration, President John F. Kennedy, this poem offers a sobering comment on the tendency toward idolatry to which human nature is often is heir. Ciardi denied that his poem carries such a message, but the poem itself belies the author. Its point of reference is both historical and conventional, and since it mocks the world and ideals that it depicts, the implication is obvious: One should not take heroes or myths too seriously. The setting of the poem, as unadorned as a cartoon; its witty wordplay; and its few characters, who scarcely act, highlight in their simplicity the poem’s central point—that ideals can carry one too far into make-believe. The adult reader who is familiar with Ciardi’s poetry would recognize his penchant for satire and for calling attention to the fact that in the real world all things pass, including a society’s most cherished ideals. Children will delight in the poem’s amusing wit, as will adults, who will also feel its sharp point pressed against their tendency to follow heroes into oblivion.