The wisdom of ‘fools’ and ‘be merciful to me, a fool’

Poets praise folly, perhaps to protect their art form from harsh assaults. Poets praise folly, perhaps to protect their art form from harsh assaults.

I have excerpted a few lyrical phrases, or bits of verse, and leave the rest to the reader.

Edward R. Sill, a Victorian who crafted rhymes, told an ironic tale of a royal authority on his throne who calls on his court jester to amuse and distract his assembly.  I cite the first, and last, stanza of “The Fool’s Prayer.”

The poem starts with a command: “Sir Fool, make for us a prayer!”  And the jester, with his silly bells and gear, starts in with “O Lord, be merciful to me, a fool!” but continues with a list of human injustices, and closes with “Men crown the knave and scourge the tool that did his will. …”

And get this, how the poem closes: “In silence rose the King, and sought his gardens cool and walked apart and murmured low,  ‘Be merciful to me, a fool!’ ”

This variation on the theme of universal suffering and endless error has stayed with me since my grammar-school days, when you used to have to recite rhymes by rote on a stage with a curtain.

But, really, I just want to salute April Fool’s Day and to wish King Charles well in his current condition and within his valuable garden.  He is, after all, a melancholy monarch, and I would like to dedicate this humble homage to the nuances of “poetry” as an art form.

You see, I had a brother, Charles, who could draw much better than I ever could.  I was jealous, just a bit, but I could recite and rival his verbosity with my talkative nature.  … For all my mistakes in life, I pray to the powers that be, “Be merciful to me, a fool!”

Perhaps poetry and painting share a common fate … and trait. They are seldom obvious.  To do a portrait, the artist might say to the model, “Turn away ... this will be a “profil perdu,” or a “lost profile.”  Or the artist may prefer a skiff to a ship, to suggest, not state, the grandeur of river or sea.

Shakespeare gave the wisest words to the fool Polonius, the doomed fool despised by Hamlet, the “hero.”

In my columns, I often “confess” rather than rave.  My role models embrace the modest and self-mocking essayists, never the wise words of sages, and I wear with pride a cap with the scrawled signature of humble humorist James Thurber (but with a brim pin proudly proclaiming the two flags, our American stars and stripes linked/connected to the Israeli pennant with the Star of David.)

P.S.: I blame the tsuris of our culture on the computer and its AI, and the “capitalist” editing and overuse of the words “now!” and “today!” to rush us and hasten us to pay – not to contemplate, to take time to mull things patiently.

On the other hand, my debating days in public schools instructed me in the art of changing your mind, or at least looking at things with a fresh perspective. Which explains why I have to wear that hat, to recall both the ambiguity of artistry and also the forceful commitments to what is closest to our lives and hearts.

MIKE FINK (mfink33@aol.com) is a professor emeritus at the Rhode Island School of Design.