Along with
around-the-clock drill and other sorts of physical and psychological training, Plebes at the U.S. Naval
Academy are required to memorize and recite on demand vast quantities of text,
including Theodore Roosevelt’s “The Man in the Arena,” an excerpt from
“Citizenship in a Republic,” a speech the former president and assistant
secretary of the Navy delivered in 1911. On Sunday, our son was permitted to
telephone us for the first time since the start of Plebe Summer, and he mentioned
another mandatory feat of memorization: W.E. Henley’s “Invictus,” with its
stirring closing lines: “I am the master of my fate, / I am the captain of my
soul.” We were required to learn and recite the poem in eighth-grade English
class, and I remember declaiming it to myself as I walked home from school. The
poem makes an unexpected appearance in The
Earl of Louisiana (1961), where A.J. Liebling calls it “the Long family
anthem”:
“As Earl
[Long, brother of Huey, the Kingfish] sat there, one of the assisting speakers,
a fellow with a strong voice, grabbed the microphone and declaimed the family
battle ode, ‘Invictus.’
“When the
man came to the part where it says:
“‘Under the
bludgeonings of fate
Ma haid is
bloody, but unbowed’
“Earl flung
up his head like a wild horse and got up like a fighter about to go into a
dance to prove he hasn’t been hurt. He called for a show of hands by everybody
who was going to vote for him, and I waved both of mine.”
“Invictus”
is a barn-burner, a shout of courage and self-reliance, virtues very
much out of fashion today. To enhance enjoyment of the poem, it’s useful to
know something of Henley’s history. Born in 1849 in Gloucester, England, he was
diagnosed with tuberculosis of the bone at the age of twelve, and several years
later his left leg was amputated below the knee. The great Joseph Lister saved
his other leg in 1873, when Henley spent a lengthy period of treatment in the
Royal Infirmary, Edinburgh. There he started writing poetry, including
“Invictus.” Henley went on to edit the Scots
Observer and befriend Rudyard Kipling, whose “If—” is comparably rousing. Henley
was also a friend of Robert Louis Stevenson, who based Treasure Island’s Long John Silver, in part, on Henley. In W.E. Henley (Constable, 1949), biographer
John Connell writes:
“A poem
which is so full and accurate an exposition of any man’s tried and constant
temper, which is indeed the reflection of a very large part of his life, cannot be treated as
contemptible merely because it is hackneyed. The causes of human suffering are
diverse and mysterious; but the individual soul’s response to its challenges is
of insistent significance. It is inescapably true that this poem of Henley’s
has, in the appalling years since it was first published, supported and
sustained many a wavering and fearful heart through lonely hours of pain,
humiliation and apparent defeat. A single example: a survivor of the fall of
Singapore and of the Bangkok-Moulmein Railway has recorded that he repeated the
last verse to himself as he went into captivity.”
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