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In 1946, the poet W.H. Auden was asked to craft and recite a poem for Harvard’s “Victory Commencement,” an event designed to celebrate and honor students, faculty, and leaders who had served in WWII, which had only recently ended and was not yet distant enough to allow the general public total peace of mind. Although relieved of the oppressive atmosphere that inevitably accompanies times of war, themes of uncertainty, grief, and authoritarianism still hung in the air at Cambridge, and Auden was especially concerned with the unholy cooption he saw being fostered between his alma mater and the U.S. Government.

In true artistic fashion, the piece he created spoke directly to the moment, at as well as to the larger powers within culture. The poem was named Under Which Lyre, and the cheeky subtitle: A Reactionary Tract For The Times is an indication to the reader regarding the poet’s humble, yet decidedly countercultural message. The poem concludes with a timeless decalogue for those who consider themselves individualists, artists, creatives, free-thinkers, or mischief-makers.

If you happen to be short on New Year’s Resolutions, or perhaps have room to add a few more, I offer this decalogue for your consideration, along with a bit of commentary regarding what I believe Auden was communicating. May these lines, or at least the spirit with which they were written, put courage in you. I highly recommend reading the entire poem or even listening to an original audio of Auden reading it himself, as I am only presenting the final few stanzas.

Under Which Lyre

In our morale must lie our strength:

So, that we may behold at length

Routed Apollo’s

Battalions melt away like fog,

Keep well the Hermetic Decalogue,

Which runs as follows:—

In order to hold ground against the invasion of Apollo, which is Auden’s personification of murderous institutionalism and asphyxiating hierarchy, he introduces the idea of a “Hermetic Decalogue.” This decalogue is not a set of rules that need to be followed (which would be terribly unbecoming for a party of tricksters), as much as it is a declaration of rejection. Auden knew that the life of a movement is always in it’s people, not it’s policies, and that the vibrancy of a rebel’s inner being needs to be protected above a structure or system. Therefore, this decalogue is a menu of activities that need to be avoided because they will zap the strength of an artist and steal a rebel’s soul.

Thou shalt not do as the dean pleases,

Thou shalt not write thy doctor’s thesis

On education,

Thou shalt not worship projects nor

Shalt thou or thine bow down before

Administration.

The first stanza of the decalogue is comprised of three commandments and Auden wastes no time in aiming them directly at the very institution who commissioned his work. The commandments warn against deference to authority, but also against the myopia that occurs when living inside an environment that has insular values. “Writing your doctoral thesis on education” is exactly the type of behavior that someone who has become too shortsighted would do. Auden is directing the listeners to think beyond the inner ring of whatever hierarchy they happen to be influenced by in the moment (the university) and to think larger, broader, and for themselves. In the end, being rewarded by the administration simply does not matter.

Thou shalt not answer questionnaires

Or quizzes upon World-Affairs,

Nor with compliance

Take any test. Thou shalt not sit

With statisticians nor commit

A social science.

The next two commandments keep the individual from what William Blake might have called “single vision” or “Newton’s Sleep.” In other words, the tendency of modern people to frame the world into exclusively empirical, overly rational, and utterly unimaginative reductions. Auden is encouraging whimsy, fantasy, and, dare I say—factual incorrectness. Not in a deceptive or delusional way, but in a way that gives permission for people to question things and keep wonder alive. Of course, he acknowledges that forces will want them to accept and see the world in this manner, which is why non-compliance will always be required!

Thou shalt not be on friendly terms

With guys in advertising firms,

Nor speak with such

As read the Bible for its prose,

Nor, above all, make love to those

Who wash too much.

Auden’s next commandments lead the listener away from people who on the surface seem enticing but are ultimately shallow and performative. Each of the described individuals have a speciously attractive element to them, but the motivation for their behavior ultimately lacks depth and texture. The mAdman, the unbelieving moralist, the germaphobe; each of them are slippery and, even if they were legitimate, would be unlikely to want an authentic child of Hermes as part of their club. Above all, the advice here is to shun a lifestyle that prioritizes an aesthetic over substance. Rabble-rousers should always choose passion and sincerity over polish.

Thou shalt not live within thy means

Nor on plain water and raw greens.

If thou must choose

Between the chances, choose the odd;

Read The New Yorker, trust in God;

And take short views.

What is life without a little risk, a little poetry, a little foolishness? Auden reminds the reader that being overly righteous is just another recipe for misery, that our days are meant to be enjoyed, and that the future will always bring you the unexpected, so you might as well hold your plans with an open hand and enjoy good art. Chesterton’s admonition that “angels can fly because they take themselves lightly” comes to mind.

Perhaps my favorite little detail in this poem is how, according to my count, there are actually ELEVEN commandments in this decalogue. You can get more if you decide to really split hairs, but the most strict and honest application of counting, in my opinion, yields eleven. My theory is that Auden was playing on the “choose the odd” line, as well as being cheeky in general by breaking the definition of decalogue. A playful stroke of genius and a wonderful exercise of mischief.

Hope you enjoyed the poem and my little breakdown, friends. May this year be playful, joyous, and life-giving.

Curiously yours,

Bradley Andrews

About the Author:

Bradley Andrews is a hopeful rabble-rouser on a mission to inspire the world. Stay in touch with what he’s doing by subscribing to a weekly digest of his activity through micro.blog. This will send you writing, photos, and other curiosities that you are guaranteed to love.