Peter Pan, the boy who wouldn’t grow up, is often seen as the epitome of childhood joy and adventure. However, a closer look at J.M. Barrie’s original book, “Peter Pan and Wendy,” reveals a much more complex and arguably darker character. One unsettling question that often arises when considering the Lost Boys and their leader is: Does Peter Pan Kill The Lost Boys? The answer, while perhaps uncomfortable, is disturbingly likely, according to the text itself.
“Thinning Out” the Ranks: A Casual Mention of Mortality
The original narrative doesn’t shy away from the grim reality of life in Neverland. It mentions, almost in passing, that Peter “thins them out” – referring to the Lost Boys. This phrase, stark and understated, strongly implies that Peter is responsible for the deaths of some Lost Boys. The narrator doesn’t dwell on it, presenting it as a matter-of-fact element of Neverland life, something not to be taken too seriously, much like Peter himself treats it. This casualness, however, is precisely what makes it so chilling. To deny this aspect is to ignore the unapologetically portrayed character of Peter Pan in the book, perhaps clinging to a sanitized version of the beloved figure.
Peter’s Fleeting Emotions and Fickle Loyalties
One of Peter’s defining traits is his emotional volatility and short attention span. His feelings, whether loyalty or anger, are intense but incredibly fleeting. By the story’s conclusion, he’s completely forgotten about Tinker Bell and even Captain Hook, figures who played pivotal roles in his recent adventures. This emotional shallowness extends to his regard for the Lost Boys. They are companions in his games and adventures, but their lives seem to hold little lasting value to him.
Violence Towards Fairies: A Glimpse of Peter’s Temper
Peter’s casual cruelty is further highlighted by his treatment of fairies. Despite their diminutive size, no bigger than a child’s hand, Peter routinely “cuffs” or strikes them. The narrator even notes, “Fairies indeed are strange, and Peter, who understood them best, often cuffed them.” This normalized violence against smaller, arguably more vulnerable creatures, paints a concerning picture of Peter’s character and his propensity for physical aggression when dealing with those under his perceived authority.
Dangerous Games with the Darlings: Life and Death as Sport
The Darling children quickly learn about the casual disregard for life in Neverland. Peter finds it amusing when Michael falls from the sky on their flight to Neverland. Wendy observes with horror as Peter seems more interested in the spectacle of Michael’s near-death plunges than in the act of saving him. The text states:
“Certainly they did not pretend to be sleepy, they were sleepy; and that was a danger, for the moment they popped off, down they fell. The awful thing was that Peter thought this funny. “There he goes again!” he would cry gleefully, as Michael suddenly dropped like a stone. “Save him, save him!” cried Wendy, looking with horror at the cruel sea far below. Eventually Peter would dive through the air, and catch Michael just before he could strike the sea, and it was lovely the way he did it; but he always waited till the last moment, and you felt it was his cleverness that interested him and not the saving of human life. Also he was fond of variety, and the sport that engrossed him one moment would suddenly cease to engage him, so there was always the possibility that the next time you fell he would let you go.”
This passage reveals a disturbing aspect of Peter’s personality: a fascination with danger and a potential for lethal neglect driven by boredom or a desire for novelty. The constant threat of being dropped, with Peter’s amusement at their peril, underscores the precariousness of their situation under his “care.”
Imaginary Dinners and Real Knuckle Raps: Peter’s Unrealistic Expectations
Peter’s disconnect from reality is further illustrated by his insistence on make-believe dinners. While he is satisfied by the pretense, the Lost Boys genuinely suffer from hunger. When they fail to maintain the illusion, Peter resorts to physical punishment, rapping them on the knuckles. This highlights his inability to understand the difference between fantasy and reality, and his willingness to enforce his whimsical rules with tangible pain.
The difference between him and the other boys at such a time was that they knew it was make-believe, while to him make-believe and true were exactly the same thing. This sometimes troubled them, as when they had to make-believe that they had had their dinners. If they broke down in their make-believe he rapped them on the knuckles.
Killing Pirates for Entertainment: A Bloodthirsty Suggestion
Peter’s casual proposal to John about waking a sleeping pirate solely to kill him reveals a chilling bloodlust masked by childlike adventure.
“What kind of adventure?” he asked cautiously. “There’s a pirate asleep in the pampas just beneath us,” Peter told him. “If you like, we’ll go down and kill him.” “I don’t see him,” John said after a long pause. “I do.” “Suppose,” John said, a little huskily, “he were to wake up.”’ Peter spoke indignantly. “You don’t think I would kill him while he was sleeping! I would wake him first, and then kill him. That’s the way I always do.” “I say! Do you kill many?” “Tons.” John said “how ripping,” but decided to have tea first.
Peter’s indignant response that he would wake the pirate first before killing him, as if this makes the act morally justifiable, underscores his warped sense of right and wrong and his casual acceptance of violence as entertainment. His boast of killing “tons” further solidifies his violent nature.
Near-Fatal Justice: The Tootles Incident
The most compelling evidence for Peter’s lethal tendencies comes in Chapter VI, when Tootles accidentally shoots Wendy with an arrow. Peter’s immediate reaction is not grief or concern, but rage and a demand for vengeance. He is ready to kill Tootles without hesitation:
“She is dead,” he said uncomfortably. “Perhaps she is frightened at being dead.” He thought of hopping off in a comic sort of way till he was out of sight of her, and then never going near the spot any more. They would all have been glad to follow if he had done this. But there was the arrow. He took it from her heart and faced his band. “Whose arrow?” he demanded sternly. “Mine, Peter,” said Tootles on his knees. “Oh, dastard hand,” Peter said, and he raised the arrow to use it as a dagger. Tootles did not flinch. He bared his breast. “Strike, Peter,” he said firmly, “strike true.” Twice did Peter raise the arrow, and twice did his hand fall. “I cannot strike,“ he said with awe, “there is something stays my hand.” All looked at him in wonder, save Nibs, who fortunately looked at Wendy.
Several points in this passage are crucial:
- Peter’s Disconnect from Death: He initially seems more concerned with avoiding the uncomfortable reality of death than understanding its finality.
- Lost Boys’ Fear: The Lost Boys fully expect Peter to enact lethal revenge. No one questions his authority to kill Tootles.
- Unusual Restraint: Peter’s inability to strike Tootles is presented as an anomaly, something that surprises even Peter himself. The narrator explicitly states it was “fortunate” Nibs looked at Wendy, implying a very different, tragic outcome was likely had Wendy not been revealed to be alive. This suggests Peter’s restraint is not the norm.
- Merciless Nature: The surprise of the Lost Boys at Peter’s restraint emphasizes how readily they expect him to be merciless, even to his own followers.
Beyond Humor: Acknowledging the Darker Themes
While some might dismiss these instances as dark humor or over-analysis, to do so is to ignore the consistent portrayal of Peter’s character in Barrie’s text. The narrator explicitly states the “thinning out,” and the numerous examples of Peter’s casual violence, emotional detachment, and willingness to endanger or even kill, paint a portrait of a leader who is far from benign.
It’s crucial to acknowledge this darker dimension of Peter Pan. While dissecting humor can sometimes diminish its effect, in this case, examining these unsettling implications enriches our understanding of the complexities within a seemingly simple children’s story. Peter Pan, in his refusal to grow up and face consequences, embodies a chaotic and potentially dangerous form of eternal childhood, one where even his own Lost Boys are not entirely safe from his capricious whims. The evidence strongly suggests that yes, Peter Pan, in his own unsettling way, does indeed kill the Lost Boys.
