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    Blood, Class and Empire

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      The idea didn’t catch on with the staid and unimaginative Empire Marketing Board, but in Hollywood the image of England and the Empire became a popular staple, and a considerable colony of well-spoken and suave Englishmen found, like Dennis Barlow at the Happier Hunting Ground, that the “combination of melancholy with the English accent” was a serviceable recipe for success. Cary Grant, Ronald Colman, David Niven, Basil Rathbone, and Errol Flynn all mastered this recipe to varying degrees, as did Charles Laughton and Herbert Marshall. The better studios all saw their point, and adopted the formula. Bertolt Brecht, sitting in a movie theater near Times Square, was both impressed and appalled to see American audiences cheering the heroics of English redcoats, as if the imperial soldier was interchangeable with the cowboy or the wagon-train pioneer. As Philip French has put it:

      Not many of these performers could be plausibly cast in Westerns; on the other hand American actors could quite easily be placed on the North West Frontier with the right explanation. In Lives of a Bengal Lancer, for example, Richard Cromwell was introduced as the American-reared son of the regiment’s commanding officer (Sir Guy Standing) and Gary Cooper established as a Scots-Canadian. In these roles, the American actor would invariably be presented as an insubordinate rebel who eventually came to appreciate, in the final reel, the unwritten code of the regiment and the demands of the Empire.

      “How is the Empire?” George V is loyally supposed to have said on his deathbed. The two variants muttered by disloyal courtiers are that he said, “What’s on at the Empire?” or that he inquired, “How’s the vampire?” in a malign reference to Mrs. Wallis Simpson. The confusion is a pardonable one, given the speedup and blurring of imagery. The original “vamp,” Theda Bara, got her eponym by playing a man-eater in the screen version of The Vampire, by Rudyard Kipling. American cinemagoers also had the opportunity to see Gunga Din, Elephant Boy, Captains Courageous, Wee Willie Winkie, and The Light That Failed.

      Without Kipling’s popularity, it is inconceivable that the genre of lesser imperial writers would have been translated to the screen, with A. E. W. Mason and Percival Christopher Wren to the fore, and such memorable successes as The Four Feathers and John Ford’s The Black Watch, to say nothing of Clive of India, The Charge of the Light Brigade, and Korda’s Sanders of the River.

      The political and cultural consequences of this were not slight. When the British embassy and its propaganda division sought to combat the influence of Charles Lindbergh’s America First and other isolationist or pro-Nazi organizations, they turned at once to Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. He was prepared to make public appearances and speeches even in the “hot” areas of Anglophobia like Chicago. Neatly leapfrogging over the massed ranks of antiimperialist intellectuals and academics, as he had over so many bulwarks and balconies, Fairbanks used his standing in the new medium to appeal to the public directly. Of the small number of Americans to be knighted, Fairbanks probably did the most to earn his “K.”

      The importance of all this is attested by Sir John Wheeler-Bennett, who before and during the Second World War was charged by the British ambassador with finding and wringing the nerve of Anglophilia in American life. He made a friend of Ted Roosevelt, Jr. (whom he met “by chance at a dinner at the Century”), and found they had a love of Kipling in common. He also noted with approbation that young Roosevelt had been “Governor-General of the Philippines and Governor of Puerto Rico, America’s only two colonial possessions.” In his book Special Relationships, Wheeler-Bennett described meeting Lindbergh at the Roosevelt mansion Sagamore Hill in Oyster Bay. He went on to describe the strenuous British contest with Lindbergh over the German threat (intriguingly adding of Lindbergh that “in the later years of his life we found a comradeship as Cold Warriors”).

      Imperial film was Wheeler-Bennett’s entrée into Hollywood, via the friendship of Alex Korda:

      His British naturalisation was an honor he cherished greatly. Winston Churchill was his hero and there existed a great friendship between the two men, which Winston crowned with a knighthood. This act, though it caused some raised eyebrows, he defended fiercely and loyally, for no-one had done more for the British cause, whether by financial contributions or by such excellent films for export as Fire Over England and Henry VIII. Robert Vansittart [head of the German section of the British Foreign Office] was another friend who always praised him. (A little known fact is that “Van” also wrote the words of Sabu’s song in The Thief of Baghdad.) This confidence in him was justified in every respect. He extolled Britain and Britain’s cause on every possible occasion, in fair weather and foul. I have been privileged to listen to a debate on the British way of life conducted in the fiercest of broken English between Alex and David Selznick to my silent delight and satisfaction.

      Once the Second World War had actually begun, and there was the sticky business of American neutrality to be got over again, Wheeler-Bennett was sent back to Hollywood by Lord Lothian “to discuss with certain well-disposed movie moguls, of whom Walter Wanger was one, the making of such non-documentary films as Mrs. Miniver and Eagle Squadron.” Introduced around Bel-Air by Korda and his wife, Merle Oberon, Wheeler-Bennett got the chance to lobby Sam Goldwyn and to co-direct a picture, entitled The Hitler Gang, with Mia Farrow’s father, John.

      Thus the ground so well watered by Kipling bore fruit after his death, in the decisive battle for American opinion. Wheeler-Bennett makes plain that nothing in his propaganda career gave him more satisfaction—not even helping the young John Fitzgerald Kennedy to write Why England Slept, and seeing copies of the result sent by the boy’s corrupt and anti-British father to the King and members of the Court of St. James’s, with the vulgar admonition from father to son: “You would be surprised how a book that really makes the grade with high-class people stands you in good stead for years to come.”

      This was all preface to an extraordinary moment in October 1943 when Winston Churchill wrote a short note to Franklin Roosevelt. The correspondence between the two men was voluminous, and especially on Churchill’s side took the form of several letters, cables, or memos each week. He had at the beginning of the war evolved with Roosevelt a style of address, calling himself “Former Naval Person” in order to recall the period of the First World War when each had served in his country’s naval establishment, Churchill in the Admiralty and Roosevelt in the Navy Department. “Former Naval Person to President” was the accustomed, indeed routine, opening of his messages, with Roosevelt replying in kind. The October 17, 1943, communication, however, reads more like a personal letter and is presented formally:

      My dear Mr. President,

      I am sending you with this letter two small unpublished works of Rudyard Kipling which I think I mentioned to you. Similar copies were given to me by the President of the Royal College of Surgeons of England on the occasion of my admission as an Honorary Fellow of the College, and I thought that you would like to have both books for your library.

      I understand that Mrs. Kipling decided not to publish them in case they should lead to controversy and it is therefore important that their existence should not become known and that there should be no public reference to this gift.

      Yours sincerely,

      Winston S. Churchill

      Neither of the poems—“The Burden of Jerusalem” and “A Chapter of Proverbs”—has yet appeared in any anthology of Kipling’s work. Both are reproduced below:

      But Abram said unto Sarai, “Behold the maid is in thy hand. Do to her as it pleaseth thee.” And when Sarai dealt hardly with her she fled from her face.

      Genesis 16:6

      THE BURDEN OF JERUSALEM

      In ancient days and deserts wild

      There rose a feud—still unsubdued—

      Twixt Sarah’s son and Hagar’s child

      That centred round Jerusalem

      (While underneath the timeless boughs

      Of Mamre’s oak ’mid stranger-folk

      The Patriarch slumbered and his spouse

      Nor dreamed abou
    t Jerusalem.)

      But Ishmael lived where he was born.

      And pastured there in tents of hair

      Among the Camel and the Thorn—

      Beersheba, South Jerusalem

      But Israel sought employ and food

      At Pharaoh’s knees, till Rameses

      Dismissed his plaguey multitude,

      With curses, toward Jerusalem.

      Across the wilderness they came

      And launched their horde o’er Jordan’s ford,

      And blazed the road by sack and flame

      To Jebusite Jerusalem.

      Then Kings and Judges ruled the land,

      And did not well by Israel,

      Till Babylonia took a hand

      And drove them from Jerusalem.

      And Cyrus sent them back anew,

      To carry on as they had done,

      Till angry Titus overthrew

      The fabric of Jerusalem.

      Then they were scattered North and West,

      While each Crusade more certain made

      That Hagar’s vengeful son possessed

      Mohammedan Jerusalem.

      Where Ishmael held his desert state

      And framed a creed to serve his need—

      “Allah-hu-Akbar! God is Great!”

      He preached it in Jerusalem.

      And every realm they wandered through

      Rose, far or near, in hate and fear,

      And robbed and tortured, chased and slew,

      The outcasts of Jerusalem.

      So ran their doom—half seer, half slave—

      And ages passed, and at the last

      They stood beside each tyrant’s grave,

      And whispered of Jerusalem.

      We do not know what God attends

      The Unloved Race in every place

      Where they amass their dividends

      From Riga to Jerusalem.

      But all the course of Time makes clear

      To everyone (except the Hun)

      It does not pay to interfere

      With Cohen from Jerusalem.

      For ‘neath the Rabbi’s curls and fur

      (Or scents and rings of movie-kings)

      The aloof, unleavened blood of Ur,

      Broods steadfast on Jerusalem.

      Where Ishmael bides in his own place—

      A robber hold, as was foretold,

      To stand before his brother’s face—

      The wolf without Jerusalem.

      And burdened Gentile o’er the main,

      Must bear the weight of Israel’s hate

      Because he is not brought again

      In triumph to Jerusalem.

      Yet he who bred the unending strife,

      And was not brave enough to save

      The Bondsmaid from the furious wife,

      He wrought thy woe, Jerusalem.

      A CHAPTER OF PROVERBS

      1. The wind bloweth where it

      listeth, and after the same

      manner in every country.

      Be not puffed up with a

      breath (of it)

      2. Of a portion set aside a

      portion or ever the days

      come when thou shalt see

      there is no work in them

      3. For he that hath not must

      serve him that hath; even

      to the peril of the soul

      4. Take the wage for thy work

      in silver and (it may be)

      gold; but accept not honours

      nor any great gifts

      5. Is ye ox yoked till men have

      need of him; or the camel

      belled while yet she is free?

      And wouldst thou be eved

      with these?

      6. Pledge no writing till it is

      written; and seek not

      payment on (any) account

      the matter shall be

      remembered against thee.

      7. There is a generation which

      selleth dung in the street

      and saith: “To the pure all

      things are pure.”

      8. But count (thou) on the one

      hand how may be so minded;

      and after write according

      to thy knowledge.

      9. Because not all evil beareth

      fruit in a day; and it may

      be some shall curse thy

      grave for the iniquity of

      thy works in their youth

      10. The fool brayeth in his

      heart there is no God;

      therefore his imaginings

      are terribly returned on

      him; and that without interpreter

      11. Get skill, and when thou

      has it, forget; lest the

      bird on her nest mock thee,

      and He that is Highest

      look down

      12. Get knowledge; it shall

      not burst thee; and amass

      under thy hand a peculiar

      treasure of words:

      13. As a King heapeth him

      jewels to bestow or cast

      aside; or being alone in

      his palace, fortifieth

      himself beholding (them).

      14. So near as thou canst, open

      not thy whole mind to

      any man.

      15. The bounds of his craft are

      appointed to each from of

      old; they shall not be known

      to the cup-mates or the

      companions

      16. For three things my heart

      is disquieted; and for four

      that I cannot bear:

      17. For a woman who esteemeth

      herself a man; and a man

      that delighteth in her

      company;

      18. For people whose young

      men are cut off by the

      sword; and for the soul

      that regardeth not these

      things.

      19. In three things, yea and

      in four, is the metal of

      the workman made plain:

      20. In excessive labour; in

      continual sloth; in long

      waiting; and in the day

      of triumph.

      21. There is one glory of the

      sun and another of the

      moon and a third of the

      stars: yet are all these

      appointed for the glory

      of the earth which alone

      hath no light.

      22. Hold not back (any) part

      of a price.

      23. Despise no man even in thy

      heart; for the custom of

      it shall make thy works of

      none effect

      24. Use not overmuch to

      frequent the schools of

      the scribes; for idols are

      there and (all) the paths

      return upon themselves.

      25. Envy no man’s work nor

      deliver judgement upon

      it in the gate, for the end

      is bitterness.

      26. Consider now those blind

      worms of the deep which

      fence themselves about as

      it were with stone against

      their fellows;

      27. And reaching the

      intolerable light of the

      sun straightway perish

      leaving but their tombs;

      28. By those whose mere multitude

      the sea is presently stayed;

      the tide itself divideth

      at that place.

      29. Small waves after storm

      laying there seeds, nuts

      and the bodies of fish,

      (at last) an island ariseth

      crowned with palms; thither

      the sea-birds repair.

      30. Till man coming taketh

      all to his use and hath no

      memory of aught below

      (his feet)

      31. Out of the dust which

      had life come all things

      and shalt thou be other


      than they?

      32. Nevertheless, my son, dare

      thou greatly to believe.

      This is practically the only communication from Churchill, in an entire file of correspondence which extends in print over three volumes, to which Roosevelt made no reply or acknowledgment of any sort. The poems themselves do not form part of the published archive, but Roosevelt did keep them in their handsome privately bound blue-and-gold covers. They still repose in the Roosevelt Library at Hyde Park, New York, where I unearthed them one April day in 1988.

      The poems, and the circumstances of their donation, possess all sorts of potential and actual interest. First, it is interesting to note that October 17, 1943, the day of Churchill’s covering letter, was the day before Lionel Trilling’s famous attack on T. S. Eliot’s edition of Kipling was published in The Nation. Trilling went for Kipling on the grounds of “the snippy, persecuted anti-Semitism of ironic good manners.” In his response, Eliot tried to maintain civility by a good-humored pretense that Kipling was more anti-“Hun” than anti-Jew.

     


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