Nov. 21, 1903.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
899 
Where foliage-stir and wind-sigh never blend! 
For all "young men are turning" to this graveyard of the graces. 
To a Kipling Eden with its gloom and pall — 
To blackened timber "sweet and pure" to smear their hands and 
faces, 
While red gods, non-existent, bark and bawl? 
And is it not manifest to him that this Kipling "pic- 
ture" was inserted into "The Five Nations" as being "of 
universal application," as the Newfoundland apologist 
justly states, and that all the good sportsmen who have 
risen in anger begin to realize their danger unless they 
claim, as they have now decided to do, that only Maine 
was meant in the lines ? 
It is there that we are going with our rods and reels and traces, 
Note the statement that it is there that "we are going." 
Now, a "trace" is a section of spinning tackle that is 
never used on a racing stream. Even the stubborn, pu.g- 
nacious Scot of eighty-three years is forced to admit this. 
MR. HAKDy's "right-angled" LOG-JAM. KOTE THE LOGS 
IN PAli.\LLEL LINES ALONG THE BANK. 
Yet Mr. Ames declares that the whole eight lines are 
"right as a trivet !" Why not have all_ the "young men" 
take to the blackened timber and racing stream a full 
outfit of heavy "jigger" triple hooks, weighted for taking 
the codfish of salt water? This is again Kipling's "wonder- 
ful accuracy!" 
To a silent, smoky Indian that we know — 
I have probably seen more Indians, singly and in camps 
and reserA'ations and villages, than all these gentlemen. 
'I he}^ were always dark skinned, often dirty, and some- 
times smelled of bad whisky or worse tobacco. But 
"smoky," no ! And suppose they were. Assume, as Ven- 
ning declares, that one of them can be smelled "further 
than a man can smell Limburger cheese." It would merely 
prove further Kipling's lack of a true sportsman's taste. 
None of the gentlemen who have apologized for the lines 
would want such a guide ; yet they say that _ Kipling's 
choicfe of such a guide in his Elj^sium of a camp is delight- 
ful. Charming, indeed! A "bar" of shingle (rough 
sione) to sit on, "blackened timber" for a view, and a 
MR. hardy's entirely DIFFERENT "rIGHT-ANGLED" LOG- 
JAM. 
Limburger cheese Indian to make a couch, pitch a tent, 
and to cook; and all the while the sportsman must pray 
for a strong wind between which and his ideal guide he 
must keep or be nauseated. This is woodcraft with a 
vc-ngeance ! 
To a couch of new-pulled hemlock, with the starlight on our faces, 
My experience has been that a bed of hemlock for a 
camp gets hard after a night or two is spent on it, for it 
heats under the sleeper, and sours, having a most dis- 
agreeable odor, acrid and unpleasant, always afterward. 
.AJso that the camper always tries to avoid dews, rain 
(mind, that this is a camp), blackflies and mosquitoes. 
That alone is the ideal condition. The tnan who is es- 
tablished in a real camp actually sleeps inside a closed 
tent, or as much as possible under a canoe. If gentlemen 
\ ish to get starlight on their faces and be bitten by the 
Maine insects and get wet with dew and rain, they are 
doing something outside of regular camping customs, and 
certainly not "ideal." 
For the Red Gods call us out, and we must go." 
\ cite Mr. Ashcroft's admirable words: 
".'Red Gods," are pompous poetic license gone mad. No "gods" 
of, red, white, black, Prussian blue or chrome yellow, or of pepper- 
and-salt or brindle, "call out" the woodman. But wild Nature does 
be'ckon to him. Her blue lakes, eflfgrald forests, music of streams, 
plashing of waves on beaches. \^Hdrous saffrons and grays and 
fenderness ^ijd delicacy of purples at da.wu, voices of foliage an4 
winds, evening twilights, and above all, the mystery of her life, are 
not deities of any hue, much less "Red Gods." They are manifest 
messages from the only God, telling us of blessings, beauty and 
grace of the earth made for maa's enjoyment. 
If the word had instead been "wood-gods," that would 
have been permissible by poetic license, just as nymphs, 
fauns, satyrs, and dryads might properly be mentioned, for 
then they are understood to be mere mythological immor- 
tals—intangible, figurative. But when a color is given to 
"gods," it carries with it tlie absurdity that they have 
actually been seen, and are tangible actualities. So it is 
in order for Doctor Morris to advise us which of the very 
manj^ shades of red (see Standard Dictionary, under 
"Spectroscope," page 1722, et seq.) is the proper shade 
in which to regard these scarlet deities, and the true style 
for them. Perhaps Dunlap would like a hint from them 
on the style of a hat. Are they tall or squat, bow-legged 
or knock-kneed? Do they wear boots, slippers, waders or 
sabots? Do they range through the blackened timber in 
troops, singly, or in pairs or quartettes? Do they get the 
seats of their crimson trousers black when they sit or 
sleep on the coal-black timber? Are they red clear 
through, or only on the skin outside of themselves? But 
why ask questions when the answer is so ea.sy? The 
Doctor should write his "old guide Caribou Charley" to 
shoot a couple of "gods," and express them, packed in 
ice, to Forest and Stream, 346 Broadway, New York, 
charges collect. 
Or perhaps the withering flames that have left a black 
desolation and ruin of the timber, have scorched its 
spook gods red, like boiling water does a lobster. 
Or is that melancholy landscape of fire-swept woods 
really a new Forest of Arden, where the horrible appears 
beautiful as Bottom did unto Titania, and all because the 
juice of the Kipling love-in-idleness has been rubbed on 
the eyes of his votaries? 
I hope that Doctor Morris, so famous as a keen student 
and scientist, will favor us with a special paper on "Red 
Gods," to remove our belief that the term is cheap gro- 
tesquerie. Let him remember that "a musk-grain of Be- 
lief will flavor a whole world^ of Quackery," so men fill 
themselves with the East Wind. Let him ask himself 
whether Kipling knew how capable men were of self- 
delusion, of their "trembling delight in the 'occult,' enig- 
matic duskiness and dust-clouds ;" and if that is not why 
Kipling dabbled into pS3'chic research, clairvoyancy, and 
looked into crystal balls and pondered on the incantations 
of the "medicine-men." Let him read the statement in 
Genesis that "out of the ground made the Lord God tc . 
grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight," and then 
ask hinlself if it is not an insult to the taste of every 
God-fearing woodsman to weave a picture of a forest of 
burned trees haunted by "red gods;" and if it would be 
any greater tax on the reader's credulity if it were claimed 
that, through these spook gods, the sportsmen may hold 
trance (whisky) communications with the moose in his 
lair and the salmon in his hiding-place; whether such 
work is "world-thrilling genius," instead of being identi- 
cal with the phosphorus-pictures of the quack spirit- 
medium, and the lies of the gypsy, who, for. a fee, tells 
credulous girls to "beware of a light-haired man;" 
whether it has not taken stock of the myriads of human 
beings, often even cultured and renowned, who can be 
"incipient energumens of the lunatic asylums;" and 
whether these "gods" with gibberings that "call," are not 
mere jack-o'-lanterns of bathos, flittering over the fens of 
Superstition. 
Not one man of fifty sportsmen and scholars asked by 
me, could tell what Kipling meant by red gods. His 
apologists have been very shy, as Mr. Jaques points out, 
about giving any details about them. Several puzzled 
men have asked me what Kipling ineant by them. I 
claim that he meant nothing but a wish to profit by de- 
ception, and therefore named only mystic, fake nonenti- 
ties. This false mystery dodge, as I have already stated, 
is a favorite trick with him. By means of its use he can 
pose as a Sir Oracle, proclaiming from out the vagueness 
of the mist he purposely raises, that he knows what his 
readers do not know, and which does not exist, but which 
he is anxious to gull people into wondering about as 
probably existing in a way purposely left unexplained. 
Mind, I do not apply anything to him in this article that 
I have not demonstrated from his own words he has 
branded on himself. 
No doubt he would wish that he had been saved from 
his friends in this discussion. They praise "The Feet of 
the Young Men" as Kipling guards and healers on the 
Dowie plan. That "poem" is one of the "gems" of his 
new book, "The Five Nations," which so conservative 
and competent an authority as the New York Evening 
Post scores editorially as "mannerisms," "cheapened," 
"something very like scolding," "disconcerting clatter," 
"professional flavor," "conscious of his audience," "dog- 
matism." "decadence," "Sir Oracle," "doggerel," "profes- 
sional unction of the exhorter," "empty forms of words 
which lack even resonance," "attempting to play the 
part of a thinking man without taking the time for 
thought," and "You may no longer print so much as two 
couplets without appending a formal 'Copyright by Rud- 
yard Kipling.' " 
This is my final mention of this matter. If I have 
oflfended my real fellow sportsmen, I deeply regret 
starting the discussion, for I had rather have the 
good will of my brother anglers and hunters and campers, 
than to unmask false work by any writer. 
It seems that the "true" Nature Poetry must be a 
hodge-podge of Realisms gone mad and muddled Mystery 
that is false. The world is all wrong about Nature 
Rhymes ! Shelley has been vastly admired for his "sweet 
views imaged by the water's love of that fair forest 
green," and for his dim, leafy vistas "where the Twin Sis- 
ters of Silence and Twilight keep their noon-day watch, 
and all the cheated hours sing vespers." 
But he was wrong, of course. Solomon's marvelous 
descriptions of freshly berobed Earth; David's green pas- 
tures and still waters; Homer's goodly trees and pleasant 
fields ; Virgil's wonderfully beautiful Elysium ; Firdausi's 
world gay with many-colored flowers; the bulbul singing 
in the palms of Hafiz; Tasso's exquisite word-picture of 
the beauties of the Island of Armida, and Camoens' harp- 
strains about the perfect Isle of Love; Shakespeare and 
his violets blue and daisies pied, and green fields of 
which dying Falstaff babbled; Clar^ with his thick 
and spreading hawthorn bush ; Wordswprth and his violet 
by a mossy stone; Burns and his milk-white thorn that 
scents the evening gale; Byron's land of the cedar and 
vine; Scott's rows of stately elms and Moore's 
exquisite Nature and Love tales of "Lalla Rookh" — all 
these are not true Nature Rhyming, but, as the Old 
Angler says of a description by Ruskin, are mere "gush!" 
For a soul-stirring rhymester, put Kipling on a rough 
boulder up in Maine to look at a blasted forest of desola- 
tion, through which roars a racing stream which "ends'* 
every time there is a log-jam, which, in turn, must be 
impossibly raw and right-angled. Add intolerable mal- 
odors exhaled by an Indian guide, and the rhyme-picture 
is the "sweet" work of a "genius" that describes earth's 
greatest, wildest loveliness ! 
The situation is most instructive, and painful to me. 
Here are a dozen earnest, surprised, hurt fellow- 
sportsmen, all sincerely protesting (some angrily) at 
what they fully beheve was an outrageous attack. They 
love the woods, and deem the eight lines to be wonder- 
ful poetry. Yet here is a little editorial from the New 
York Sun, for years Kipling's best newspaper friend, 
in its evening issue of the 13th instant, about the very 
book that contains "The Feet of the Young Men:" 
"Mr. Kipling may be many things: he is not a poet," 
says the Saturday Review, of London. If he has read 
the notices of his last book of doggerel he may well 
adapt his own line to his own case and say 
"I have had a jolly good lesson, and it serves me jolly well right." 
I repeat, it is a great regret to feel I have wounded 
brother anglers, caimpers and canoeists; and I have 
lingered in longing over Kelpie's suggestion that we 
do but look at opposite sides of the same shield. But 
no, it is absolutely clear to me that the lines are false 
work, and so I have no choice but to denounce them. 
I can only wish each of these gentlemen a long, happy 
vacation, "loose an' free" in camps where remote for- 
ests guard lakes and streams. They will answer here 
as Forest and Stream may choose to continue the dis- 
cussion. But, anyhow, from friend and foe I claim the 
sportsman's privilege. All who have differed with me 
here, and all other Forest and Stream readers who 
love the woods, are cordially invited to call on me 
when visiting New York, and permit me to furnish a 
chop, mug of ale and cigar over a lunch-table. 
L. F. Brown. 
The Red Gods. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I have been following with some interest as well as 
amusement, the controversy carried on in your col- 
umns for some weeks in regard to Kipling's "The 
Feet of the Young Men." It is unlikely that the poet's 
fame will be lessened to any appreciable degree by the 
adverse criticisms of Mr. Brown and Mr. Ashcroft. 
To those who have any accurate knowledge of nature 
and her ways, and of the actions and methods of men 
— civilized and uncivilized — any justification or expla- 
nation of the poem referred to is wholly unnecessary. 
But as a matter of fact, the writer, having in mind, 
perhaps, that there would be those to read it who had 
not, like himself felt 
"The old spring fret come o'er you," 
gave some inkling of the atmosphere and locality of 
the poem and its main incidents. 
It is somewhat unfortunate, as I think, that the 
poem, as it appears in "The Five Nations, does not 
give the key or introduction, as it was given when 
it first appeared in Scribner's of December, 1897. 
The late W. Hallet-Phillips had then only recently 
died, and Kipling wrote in memory of his friend, who 
was himself somewhat of a traveler. The introduction, 
if we call it such, was as follows: 
"Mingan River, May 26. — Antoine shammed sick 
when C came up this week. He. of course, is, 
waiting for L , and intends to take him further 
along the north shore, where they are running by 
millions." 
Medicine Hat, June 18.-— Bill White says he is not 
going to guide any more fools who can't shoot, and 
wants to know if H comes out this summer. He 
has some new ground marked. 
"Camp Bunji. via Astor..July i.— Birkett has snuffed 
the best tracker in the M gullies and goes on. He 
is trying for the Pamirs, I hear." 
"Southampton, May 6.— As my young gentleman has 
iust put her in commission for cruises in northern 
parts, and am going with him, am unable to accept- 
any engagements in home waters this summer. Re- 
spectfully, etc." 
"Macassar, Feb. 19. — You will not get any men from 
that village if De V has been before you. The 
head-man is his blood-brother, and is taught to know 
rival collectors. Even the boys will' not collect, and 
it is impossible to get skins." 
If the adverse critics of the poem will take the 
trouble to understand the writer, and to familiarize 
themselves with the locality named, and others with 
which Kipling is as familiar as he is with his own door- 
step, they will perhaps appreciate his universaHtv, as 
exemplified in this product of his genius. If not, all 
I can say to them is: 
"Who shall meet them at those altars— who shall light them to the 
shrine? 
Velvet-footed who shall guide them to their goal? 
Unto each the voice and Vision; unto each his spoor and sign — 
Lonely mountains in the Northland, misty sweat bath 'neath the 
line, 
And for each a man who knows his naked soul!" 
Let our critical friends go study with them, and 
may they soon feel the truth. 
Joseph B. Thompson. 
New York, Nov. 14, 1803. 
All communications for Forest and Stream must 
be directed to Forest and Stream Pub. Co., New 
York, tp receive attention. We haye ng other office. 
