Books of the Day
Bihar the Elephant
Babar and Father Christmas. By Jean de Brunhoff. (Methuen. 8s. 6d.)
WHEN the creator of the Babar books, M. Jean de Brunhoff, died not long ago, the world lost Edward Lear's closest neighbour. If de Brunhoff was not quite so great a man it was because he was not quite so fancy-free. But he had that power of care- ful observation that allowed him again and again to hit on ideas so simple and obvious that nobody has thought of them in just that way before, though everybody wishes they had. And they are all ideas that children want to be told about. He never digs slyly at grown-ups, or remarks in a clever-clever way what sillies they are ; but he treats them as of great importance, and whenever he makes them speak (they are usually grown-up elephants) they say something characteristic and weighty. The adult talk is, indeed, highly educative to parents who are out to -improve themselves, for it consists almost entirely of clichés of the kind likely to strike the -ears of children. Here are some examples. (Simple) "The refreshments were delicious. What a glorious day! The -time passed only too quickly! " (Pompous) " I had the greatest difficulty last year in arranging an even distribution of toys." (Phrase-book style, parent conscious of the presence of foreigners) " Good morning, Lady Whale. I am Babar the King of the elephants, and this is my wife, Celeste. We have had a balloon accident."
Examined as a continuous and connected comment on life, Babar would let one down, perhaps. The Belloc philosophy embodied in the Cautionary Tales could be acted upon, though it might turn one into a prig. So could the Lear philosophy, though it would get one locked up in no time. The de Brunhoff philosophy is less clear. What, for instance, is one to make of Celesteville, city created by elephants for elephants, but as far as lagging humans are concerned entirely a city of the future?
How eagerly they all set to work! The old lady put on the gramophone. . . . They hammered, and pulled, and pushed, and dug, and tossed, and carried, flapping their great ears the while. . . Behold Celesteville! The elephants have just finished building it, and are now resting or bathing. Babar, with Arthur and Zephir, is sailing round it in his boat, and admiring his new Capital. Each elephant has a house of his own. The old lady's house is at the top on the left and Babar's is at the top on the right. All the windows look out over the big lake. The Palace of Work is next to the Palace of Pleasure, which is very convenient.
Is this a comment on our, poor efforts in the present, or is it a plan for the future? And to what capital (Moscow or Berlin— surely not Paris or London) are we to look for practical details? The elephants, having built their model city, discover that they experience precisely the same number of joys and misfortunes in it as they did before they thought of its existence. It is the parrots that have the final word, repeating over and over again with their parrot voices, " Come and see Celesteville, most beauti- ful of towns! "
In most books for children you (and especially children) can feel the author thinking up incidents, and filling them out as much as possible. In the Babar world, as in the Peter Rabbit world of old, you are allowed a look in now and again, but there is obviously a lot going on you do not hear about at all, because the animals have such very busy lives. This can easily be told from the pictures, where there is often a lot going on that the author does not hother to mention in the text.
As an artist de Brunhoff may easily live longer than some of the men who influenced him. His trees after Dufy and his ballet- decor flames take part in a life as active as that of the elephants who live with them. Not much that was worth while in Euro- pean art of the last thirty years escaped the attention of this observant artist; and the Douanier Rousseau, Picasso, Matisse and Chagall are only a few of the artists who are echoed without being imitated in colour or form. There was evidently nothing too good or too complicated or too highbrow for him to use in his own way. Nor was it only the good art of the present that he rifled so brilliantly. In Babar the King there is a big double-page picture of the awful spirits of Misfortune and Despair fleeing before the elephant hordes of Happiness that combines the didactic, sermon-like quality and the simple colourfulness of early church wall-paintings. De Brunhoff could use anything and everything.
Sadly, he is dead. And sadly, the new and last Babar book is not as good as the others. It is about Babar going in search of Father Christmas so that he can persuade him to come to his Own country to distribute presents. The colour (partly on account Of so much snow) looks a little washed out, after the blue seas with whales, the great black ships with three red funnels, and the battle scenes, circus scenes and theatre scenes that we have been used to. The writing is slightly washed out too, in spite
of some sentences with the authentic ring. There is no "excel- lent soup " in it, as there is in so many of the others, no nightingale that sings " Troulala! Tiou—tiou—tiou! Tidi! Tidi! " and there are fewer really expressive back views of elephants. (If de Brunhoff wanted to be really expressive about an elephant's feelings he usually drew a back view.) There is, however, in the new volume one excellent scene in which Father Christmas gives Babar a magic costume.
As soon as he had put on the costume and the beard he felt himself grow light, and began to fly. " It really is extraordinary," he thought, " and most useful for distributing toys."
The magic costume has the old Babar magic. JOHN PIPER.
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