The members of Burdett Lodge No 1293 were entertained by the rendition of a poem at their recent meeting. The WM, W Bro Howard Hughes, had prepared a short talk about Brother Rudyard Kipling and his famous poem “The Mother Lodge”.
Rudyard Kipling was initiated into the Lodge of Hope and Perseverance No 782 (founded in 1858 under the English Constitution) at the Masonic Hall, the Jadughar in Anarkali, Lahore on 5 April 1886, at the age of twenty. What attracted him was Freemasonry’s emphasis on universal brotherhood in a country riven by caste and race. Lodge Hope and Perseverance was neutral territory, where Indians and English met as equals:
‘I was entered by a members of the Bramo Samaj (a reformist Hindu movement), passed by a Mohammedan, and raised by an Englishman. He wrote to The Times: ‘Our Tyler was an Indian Jew, we met of course on the level, and the only difference anyone would notice was that at our banquets some of the Brethren who were debarred by caste rules from eating food not ceremonially prepared, sat by empty plates.’
The Mother Lodge poem was written some eight years later, when he was living in Vermont. Charles Carrington in his The Complete Barrack-room Ballads, reports that it was written in a single day, on October 29th, 1894, while Conan Doyle was staying with the Kiplings. It celebrates the equality which reigns among Freemasons without distinction of profession, rank, race, or creed and the first two stanzas clearly reflect the diversity of this particular Lodge, underscored by the refrain which contrasts the behaviour displayed in public with that shown inside the Lodge. The use of vernacular with the dropped ‘h’ highlights the wide social rankings of the members. It was first published in the Pall Mall Gazette on May 9th, 1895.
Some of the terminology in the poem which may not be familiar were explained:
Conductor Sergeant: the most senior non-commissioned rank in the Army, broadly equivalent to Warrant Officer Class I today, particularly in the Land Transport Corps and the Military Stores Department of the period.
brain-fever bird: the common hawk-cuckoo (Hierococcyx varius)
Kohat is a city in the North West Frontier Province and juxtaposing it with Singapore is emblematic of the universality of Freemasonry
trichies: a type of cheroot originating from Trichinopoli, Tamil Nadu
bog-darn: cigar lighter
Khansamah: house steward or butler
bottle-khana: pantry
Complete with dropped ‘h’, W Bro ’oward ‘ughes then gave a fine rendition of The Mother Lodge. This led to a lively discussion of the equality without distinction we find in freemasonry and how much we all treasure our universal brotherhood.
There was Rundle, Station Master,
An’ Beazeley of the Rail,
An’ ‘Ackman, Commissariat,
An’ Donkin’ o’ the Jail;
An’ Blake, Conductor-Sergeant,
Our Master twice was ‘e,
With im that kept the Europe-shop,
Old Framjee Eduljee.
Outside – ” Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!
Inside – ‘Brother,” an’ it doesn’t do no ‘arm.
We met upon the Level an’ we parted on the Square,
An’ I was junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!
We’d Bola Nath, Accountant,
An’ Saul the Aden Jew,
An’ Din Mohammed, draughtsman
Of the Survey Office too;
There was Babu Chuckerbutty,
An’ Amir Singh the Sikh,
An’ Castro from the fittin’-sheds,
The Roman Catholick!
We ‘adn’t good regalia,
An’ our Lodge was old an’ bare,
But we knew the Ancient Landmarks,
An’ we kep’ ’em to a hair;
An’ lookin’ on it backwards
It often strikes me thus,
There ain’t such things as infidels,
Excep’, per’aps, it’s us.
For monthly, after Labour,
We’d all sit down and smoke
(We dursn’t give no banquets,
Lest a Brother’s caste were broke),
An’ man on man got talkin’
Religion an’ the rest,
An’ every man comparin’
Of the God ‘e knew the best.
So man on man got talkin’,
An’ not a Brother stirred
Till mornin’ waked the parrots
An’ that dam’ brain-fever-bird.
We’d say ’twas ‘ighly curious,
An’ we’d all ride ‘ome to bed,
With Mo’ammed, God, an’ Shiva
Changin’ pickets in our ‘ead.
Full oft on Guv’ment service
This rovin’ foot ‘ath pressed,
An’ bore fraternal greetin’s
To the Lodges east an’ west,
Accordin’ as commanded.
From Kohat to Singapore,
But I wish that I might see them
In my Mother-Lodge once more!
I wish that I might see them,
My Brethren black an’ brown,
With the trichies smellin’ pleasant
An’ the hog-darn passin’ down;
An’ the old khansamah snorin’
On the bottle-khana floor,
Like a Master in good standing
With my Mother-Lodge once more.
Outside – Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!’
Inside- Brother,” an’ it doesn’t do no ‘arm.
We met upon the Level an’ we parted on the Square,
An’ I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!
Ed: A grateful thanks to W. Bro Howard Hughes for an exceedingly enlightening article and Kipling’s great masonic poem.