[Christopher Mulrooney]

It is said that "during World War I troops on the march were forbidden to sing a catchy song entitled Colonel Bogey as the words they substituted for the real ones were not considered edifying."

So they whistle the Devil to make them sport who know that sin is vain.

The primary glory of Kipling's verse is musical, and is par excellence in "Tommy":

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy, go away';
But it's 'Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's 'Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when the band begins to play.

He was not a jingo as George M. Cohan was, and glad of it. Nor would he have stood for the imposture of "supporting the troops" in any damn'd adventure.

"Dash dot dot, dot, dot dash, dot dash dot" twice. The General swore.
"Was ever General Officer addressed as 'dear' before?
"'My Love,' i' faith! 'My Duck,' Gadzooks! 'My darling popsy-wop!'
"Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, who is on that mountain top?"

The genius is of observation. "But Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool—you bet that Tommy sees!" The great spanking orchestral effects of "Mandalay" are matched by

'I 'ope you liked your drink,' sez Gunga Din.

Criticism is generally of the order of the American minister who recited in the pulpit his poem, "Recessional":

Lest we forget—lest we forget!

and told his congregation, "They forgot!"

[Alan Sullivan]

Perhaps now that this board exists, more visitors will also take notice of the postings that Christopher Mulrooney has made on the Art Board, where few of us ever go.

Kipling is a poet we should all review. He has, of course, been purged by academic leftists, notwithstanding the fact that he regularly denounced the Raj for its brutality and incompetence.

C.M.'s very brief comments left me wishing for more, both of Kipling, and of his trenchant observations. I hope he'll consider posting a whole poem over on the Mastery Board. Kipling's verse was more than rambustious; it was often wise, sometimes idiotic, and reliably entertaining.

Alan Sullivan

[Richard Wakefield]

CM, Kipling's a good choice for discussion. He has a lot to teach us, and his eclipse is a good topic for us to ponder. I memorized great swatches of his verse when I was very young, almost effortleesly simply from hearing it and reading it for myself. As an adult I've discovered more dimensions to him than his wonderful sound. Yet there is probably more reason for his current low stock price than mere small mindedness among the academics. Part of it, I suspect, is that his gems are rather well hidden. One has to read a lot to find a little beyond the music of tramping boots, clattering weapons, and colloquial speech.

[Christopher Mulrooney]

Thank you for the kind reception, Mr. Sullivan. I don't find anything idiotic in Kipling's verse, otherwise I would be happy to oblige you.

On the contrary, Mr. Wakefield, that is precisely the myth of Kipling which is only dispelled by reading him.

[This message has been edited by Christopher Mulrooney (edited January 29, 2001).]

[Richard Wakefield]

CM, I think the passages you quoted above pretty much make my point. There's a great deal of wonderful sound in them, the music of the world he wants to evoke. If you're a teacher who means to bring students closer to poetry, you'll want them to read some of this. How much does it take before you're saying, "Well, here's another fine poem by Kipling with lots and lots of great sound?" And while they're reading and discussing yet another fine poem by Kipling, they're not reading something by someone else, time always being a big constraint. My point was not that Kipling's verse should be ignored, only that there are good reasons beyond knee-jerk liberalism for its not being widely assigned to college students.
Richard

[Christopher Mulrooney]

Poetry is sound.

[Alan Sullivan]

I think the point Richard was trying to make is that Kipling was limited in the range of themes and emotions he expressed, so that a relatively small sampler conveys him adequately. But my experience of Kipling is like Richard's...early and remote. I have not read him in recent years. Maybe the easily-parodied work is all that ever got wide attention, and there's more to Kipling's poetry than we realize.

I did see something of his quoted several years ago that struck me as distinctly idiotic, but unfortunately I can't recall what it was. Probably idiotic of me to have used the word "idiotic," under the circumstances. My apologies...for the moment. I may get sufficiently motivated to do a search.

Alan Sullivan

[Christopher Mulrooney]

The point I am trying to make is that Kipling's verse is not limited in its range and emotion, thank you very much.

[This message has been edited by Christopher Mulrooney (edited January 29, 2001).]

[robert mezey]

damn it to hell! I wrote a longish page
about Kipling and copied out one of his poems
but hit some stupid key and it all vanished.
Well, another time.

[robert mezey]

What a relief---it didn't vanish after all, but reappeared
as mysteriously as it disappeared.

Like most of his fellow citizens, Kipling certainly
believed in the British Empire (however critical he
could be, however sympathetic to the hard life of the
Indian peasant), but that's neither here nor there.
He is a marvelous poet, perhaps a great poet; it's
worth remembering that Frost, Robinson, Hardy, Auden
Borges etc. thought him a great poet. The reason
that most contemporary poets and readers scorn him
is that he wrote in meter and rhyme, made clear sense,
wrote a lot of excellent didactic poetry, a genre which
is nowadays held in low esteem, was a patriotic man,
etc etc, and in addition, they have never read much
of his work and just assent to received opinion. He
is read, if at all, in anthologies and the selections
are rarely good. They don't usually include anything
in the lyric mode, though Kipling wrote several very
moving poems, like "The Way through the Woods" and "Harp
Song of the Dane Women"---or this one:

Cities and Thrones and Powers
Stand in Time's eye,
Almost as long as flowers,
Which daily die:
But, as new buds put forth
To glad new men,
Out of the spent and unconsidered Earth
The Cities rise again.

This season's Daffodil,
She never hears
What change, what chance, what chill,
Cut down last year's;
But with bold countenance,
And knowledge small,
Esteems her seven days' continuance
To be perpetual.

So Time that is o'er-kind
To all that be,
Ordains us e'en as blind,
As bold as she:
That in our very death,
And burial sure,
Shadow to shadow, well persuaded, saith,
"See how our works endure!"

Tomorrow I'll copy out another masterpiece. (And if
you don't know his fiction, well, he was a master of
that too.) One of the best short pieces about Kipling's
poetry is by W. H. Auden, entitled, if memory serves,
"A Poet of the Encirclement"---terrific essay.
More later.