A Legend of Truth

Rudyard Kipling

Once on a time, the ancient legends tell,
Truth, rising from the bottom of her well,
Looked on the world, but, hearing how it lied,
Returned to her seclusion horrified.
There she abode, so conscious of her worth,
Not even Pilate’s Question called her forth,
Nor Galileo, kneeling to deny
The Laws that hold our Planet ‘neath the sky.
Meantime, her kindlier sister, whom men call
Fiction, did all her work and more than all,
With so much zeal, devotion, tact, and care,
That no one noticed Truth was otherwhere.

Then came a War when, bombed and gassed and mined,
Truth rose once more, perforce, to meet mankind,
And through the dust and glare and wreck of things,
Beheld a phantom on unbalanced wings,
Reeling and groping, dazed, dishevelled, dumb,
But semaphoring direr deeds to come.

Truth hailed and bade her stand; the quavering shade
Clung to her knees and babbled, “Sister, aid!
I am—I was—thy Deputy, and men
Besought me for my useful tongue or pen
To gloss their gentle deeds, and I complied,
And they, and thy demands, were satisfied.
But this—” she pointed o’er the blistered plain,
Where men as Gods and devils wrought amain—
“This is beyond me! Take thy work again.”

Tablets and pen transferred, she fled afar,
And Truth assumed the record of the War…
She saw, she heard, she read, she tried to tell
Facts beyond precedent and parallel—
Unfit to hint or breathe, much less to write,
But happening every minute, day and night.
She called for proof. It came. The dossiers grew.
She marked them, first, “Return. This can’t be true.”
Then, underneath the cold official word:
“This is not really half of what occurred.”

She faced herself at last, the story runs,
And telegraphed her sister: “Come at once.
Facts out of hand. Unable overtake
Without your aid. Come back for Truth’s own sake!
Co-equal rank and powers if you agree.
They need us both, but you far more than me!”

© by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

Analysis (AI Assisted)

This poem, titled *Truth and Fiction*, explores the relationship between truth and fiction, particularly in the context of the chaos and moral ambiguity of war. It presents truth as a high, almost unreachable ideal, and fiction as the more practical, adaptable force that often steps in to fulfill the public’s need for meaning and coherence. Through a narrative that juxtaposes these two abstract concepts, the poem examines how truth is sometimes too overwhelming and difficult to digest, while fiction provides a more palatable, though less reliable, substitute.

The poem opens with an allegorical retelling of Truth’s retreat from the world, prompted by humanity’s tendency to lie. The image of Truth “rising from the bottom of her well” is powerful—she is depicted as something pure, fundamental, and enduring, yet repelled by the deceit she encounters. This suggests a view of truth as something so absolute and unyielding that it becomes alienating in a world of manipulation and falsehood. Even Pilate’s famous question, “What is truth?” seems unable to draw her from her seclusion. Truth is beyond human manipulation or comprehension, and in her absence, fiction takes over: “Fiction, did all her work and more than all.”

The shift from Truth to Fiction is both inevitable and necessary, as people are often more comfortable with stories that align with their desires or worldviews than with the cold, uncomfortable facts. Fiction, with its “zeal, devotion, tact, and care,” serves the public by filling the void left by truth’s absence, offering narratives that are more digestible and easily accepted. The line “no one noticed Truth was otherwhere” is particularly poignant, highlighting how fiction, with its comforting lies and half-truths, often goes unnoticed as a substitute for reality.

Then, the poem shifts to the setting of a war, where the horrors of human conflict compel Truth to re-emerge. The image of Truth, “bombed and gassed and mined,” suggests that even the most steadfast and unyielding forces can be eroded by the brutal realities of war. But when Truth does rise again, she encounters a “phantom on unbalanced wings,” a character who represents Fiction in its weakened, post-war state. The “quavering shade” admits that it had served as Truth’s deputy, but now the scope of the war’s atrocities exceeds even Fiction’s capacity to spin a coherent narrative. The phantom’s plea, “This is beyond me! Take thy work again,” is a crucial turning point—fiction acknowledges its inability to manage the truth of the war and cedes the role of narrator back to Truth.

The poem now explores the monumental task Truth faces as she attempts to record the war’s events. The horrors she witnesses are “unfit to hint or breathe, much less to write.” The idea that truth is something so brutal and incomprehensible that it cannot even be recorded speaks to the vast moral and emotional challenges of representing reality in its full, horrifying form. The phrase “This is not really half of what occurred” underscores the idea that the scale of human suffering and violence is too great to be fully captured, even by the most objective of accounts.

The final lines, where Truth calls upon Fiction to return and assist in the monumental task of reporting the war, present a surprising conclusion. Truth, usually seen as the unwavering and uncompromising force, is depicted here as acknowledging that even she cannot handle the full weight of reality alone. In her plea for Fiction’s return, Truth suggests that the two forces—Truth and Fiction—are intertwined, both necessary to make sense of human experience. The line “They need us both, but you far more than me!” speaks to the idea that, in times of chaos and unimaginable suffering, the human need for narrative, coherence, and emotional resonance often outweighs the desire for cold, unvarnished facts.

In conclusion, *Truth and Fiction* is a meditation on the relationship between objective reality and the narratives we construct to make sense of the world. It suggests that while truth is an essential and incorruptible force, it is often too overwhelming and painful for humanity to confront directly. Fiction, with its ability to soften and reshape reality, serves as a necessary counterpart, especially in times of crisis. The poem acknowledges that truth, though essential, is not always enough to meet the emotional and psychological needs of individuals, and that both truth and fiction are required to fully capture the human experience.

Discover more from War Poetry

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading