Tag: Rudyard Kipling

When The World Was So New And All

Richard Barnes

There are days which are achingly crisp and clear. 

They are not restricted to a specific part of the earth. We’ve seen them “everywhere”. They are, however, restricted to certain days wherein precise weather conditions and time of day and season of the year on occasion cooperate in such a wonderful way as to gift us so marvelously. I am told that, in addition to outside factors, one’s own state of mind also contributes to how such days are beheld.

Invariably such moments remind me how new the world seems when we look back. And one is tempted to think that all was crisp and clear when one was a child. We know better, of course — or at least we ought to know better. However, if your childhood was blessed with a decent home — whether rich or poor or in between — you certainly should be grateful.

I recall visiting the El Morro fort in San Juan, Puerto Rico one late afternoon in 1978. It was one of those aforementioned, astonishingly clear days, about two hours or so before sunset. The beauty of the day was not due only to my personal inward peace; a television crew, which I later learned was from an advertising agency, was filming a lady on a horse. It must have been a shampoo commercial as her almost-waist-long hair reflected the sun’s rays as she rode her horse, with trees and fort and sparkling ocean in the background. Clearly the advertising agency knew this was a “perfect day” to shoot such a commercial in that spot.

(Lamentably, the trees are gone; my understanding is that they were removed in the early 90s to make the fort look “exactly” as it did in the 16th Century when it was built.)

But one need not be in an exotic location to enjoy such days. I’ve seen them as I worked on the property outside my home in Texas or as I drove grandchildren to a Puerto Rico mountain top or sitting on the low wall outside the camp club in El Pao. And you have seen such days also, I’m sure. We all have.

Invariably, such days tug me back to a vinyl record my father bought when I was not yet two years old. No, I don’t recall the day he bought it; as far as I am concerned, it had always been a part of my life; however, in writing this post I looked at the issue date: 1955.

It is Gary Moore’s The Elephant Child: Musical Adaptations based on Just So Stories For Little Children by Rudyard Kipling.

The second story in the album is “How The Camel Got Its Hump”. Like all such tales in Just So, “Camel” is an origin story. Moore delightfully channels Kipling as he unfolds the yarn about a world that is just beginning and has much work to be done. The horse, the ox, and the dog are doing their best to help the man; however, the camel just sits there in the desert doing nothing but saying “Humph!”

A recurring motif throughout the story is that “The world is so new and all” and this creature refuses to carry her weight. If you don’t know it, I’ll let you read the rest of the 2 or 3 pages; or look it up in Internet Archives and listen to Moore’s adaptation.

It’s the recurring refrain that comes to my mind on days of crispness and clarity: when the world was so new and all.

Robert Redford is quoted as saying, “Life is essentially sad.” I understand his meaning to be that happiness is a rare thing and when one encounters it one must grasp it for a moment, for it is too seldom seen. 

Mr. Redford’s is a sad philosophy of life, I am truly sorry to say. Yes, we may see much tribulation in life, as the apostle tells us. However, life can be joyful and its end, glorious and eternal, as per the Westminster Shorter Catechism.

I see the aforementioned days as reminders of God’s goodness. They are one of life’s gifts which cannot be explained with mere words; but are part of the joy unspeakable that is ours in Christ and in His Kingdom.

As for our childhood, yes, colors were bright then … but they are bright still, no? Sure they are.

We may have storms today … but we had them back then as well.

As we begin the new ecclesiastical year, celebrating this Advent Season, we could do worse than remember to be grateful for the days we have been given and to determine to make our remaining days worth the while.

So, in a sense, the world is as new and all today as it was in 1955.

Photo of El Morro Fort taken in 1977. Notice the trees along the driveway and to the right. These were cut down and removed in the early 90s.

Robert Redford (1936-2025). Photo taken in 2003

The Gods of the Copybook Headings — Rudyard Kipling, 1919

Richard Barnes 
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!
Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936); Nobel Prize in Literature, 1907

In his time, sermons were published in their entirety in newspapers and magazines. “Copybook Headings” refers to concise summations of sermons or proverbs or maxims. They were considered to reflect age-old wisdom and warnings and schoolchildren were required to copy them repeatedly in their notebooks (copybooks). These were considered moral education as well as penmanship practice. It’s a good idea to re-read the poem today.