What Kipling knew
They’re back. Or actually, they never left:
As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “Stick to the Devil you know.”On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “The Wages of Sin is Death.”In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “If you don’t work you die.”Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!
Thank you Neo. I’d never read this one before.
Rudy the K was a very observant man.
Another poem by Kipling that my grandmother used to recite to me is “Recessional,” which he wrote on the occasion of Queen Victoria’s diamond jubilee in 1897. As the title suggests, the poem went against the celebratory mood of the late Victorian era, and is still interpreted as Kipling’s warning about the transitory nature of national power:
God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word—
Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord!
Kipling was not a particularly religious man, but he used the language of the King James version of the Bible to underscore the solemnity of the poem’s warning. “Recessional” was published 22 years before “The Gods of the Copybook Headings,” the later poem reflecting Kipling’s increasing disgust with the self-deception of post-WWI European society. The death of John Kipling, the poet’s only son, at the Battle of Loos in 1915 grieved him deeply and added to the anger expressed in “The Gods of the Copybook Headings.”
I had always wondered what “Copybook Headings” was a reference to. I had always thought it was a reference to newspapers and a sort of older version of the “Fox Butterfield Effect” – conflating cause and effect to produce bass-ackwards results: “Crime is down *despite* surge in prison population.”
So it’s fascinating to learn that they were moral lessons woven into cursive handwriting manuals for schoolchildren. And they were largely Biblically-based….intended to pass on a certain Christian morality along with the rigor of proper cursive handwriting.
So very interesting that we’ve stopped one kind of moral instruction and replaced it with a vastly inferior kind of moral instruction (Diversity and Narcissism) and that our entire modern age is now reaping the rewards of ignoring those moral conventions.
Das:
Plus, I don’t even think schools care about handwriting itself anymore.
Yikes! Gives me a chill each time I read it.
Wish our schools taught this poem!
Always loved Kipling’s works. His ‘just so’ stories were a wellspring of inspiration.
I believed I learned of “Copybook Headings” from Gerard sometime after 9-11.
I loved “Just-So Stories” as a kid. Later I memorized the first verse of “If.” There’s a poem to absorb into one’s soul.
_________________________________________
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
–Rudyard Kipling, “If” (1895)
huxley–
Two interesting facts about “If–”
The third and fourth lines of the second stanza are painted on the wall of the players’ entrance to the center court of the club where the Wimbledon tennis championships are held:
“If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same”
The second fact is that Kipling wrote the poem for his son John– the son who was killed in WWI at the age of 18.
Something else for huxley: André Maurois’ translation of Kipling’s “If–” into French.
Kipling’s iambic pentameter has had to yield to the different rhythms of spoken French, but Maurois was as good a translator as Kipling was likely to find. Maurois served in the French army in WWI, where he worked as a liaison officer with the British army and served as an interpreter for Winston Churchill at one point– which means that he had a good “ear” for British English. He published a book about Kipling in 1934 titled Kipling and His Works from a French Point of View.
Anyway, here is “Tu seras un Homme, mon fils”
Si tu peux voir détruit l’ouvrage de ta vie
Et sans dire un seul mot te mettre à rebâtir,
Ou perdre en un seul coup le gain de cent parties
Sans un geste et sans un soupir;
Si tu peux être amant sans être fou d’amour,
Si tu peux être fort sans cesser d’être tendre,
Et, te sentant haï, sans haïr à ton tour,
Pourtant lutter et te défendre ;
Si tu peux supporter d’entendre tes paroles
Travesties par des gueux pour exciter des sots,
Et d’entendre mentir sur toi leurs bouches folles
Sans mentir toi-même d’un mot ;
Si tu peux rester digne en étant populaire,
Si tu peux rester peuple en conseillant les rois,
Et si tu peux aimer tous tes amis en frère,
Sans qu’aucun d’eux soit tout pour toi ;
Si tu sais méditer, observer et connaître,
Sans jamais devenir sceptique ou destructeur,
Rêver, mais sans laisser ton rêve être ton maître,
Penser sans n’être qu’un penseur ;
Si tu peux être dur sans jamais être en rage,
Si tu peux être brave et jamais imprudent,
Si tu sais être bon, si tu sais être sage,
Sans être moral ni pédant ;
Si tu peux rencontrer Triomphe après Défaite
Et recevoir ces deux menteurs d’un même front,
Si tu peux conserver ton courage et ta tête
Quand tous les autres les perdront,
Alors les Rois, les Dieux, la Chance et la Victoire
Seront à tous jamais tes esclaves soumis,
Et, ce qui vaut mieux que les Rois et la Gloire
Tu seras un homme, mon fils.
I hope you can absorb the French version of Kipling’s poem into your soul along with the English original.
@ PA Cat in re Kipling’s “Recessional” — one setting c. 1948 is in the 1985 LDS Hymnbook.
https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/music/library/hymns/god-of-our-fathers-known-of-old?lang=eng
We don’t sing it enough these days.
AesopFan–
I’m told that the Aussies and the Kiwis sing “Recessional” every year on Anzac Day, to the tune “Melita,” familiar as the tune of “Eternal Father, Strong to Save,” aka the Navy Hymn.
Here is a musical version of another Kipling poem, from a source the readership here might find surprising:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4cp-W31rVg
Here’s something else Kipling knew, from “Macdonough’s Song” :
Whatsoever, for any cause,
Seeketh to take or give
Power above or beyond the Laws,
Suffer it not to live!
Holy State or Holy King–
Or Holy People’s Will–
Have no truck with the senseless thing.
Order the guns and kill!