Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) (1306 page)

“Rot! “ he exclaimed, as he slashed his blue pencil furiously through para-

graph after paragraph. “ Rot! “ again; and again more blue pencil. Finally he gave it up as a bad job, and handed the story over to another reporter to be rewritten.

Then, swinging round his chair, he said : “ Mr. Kipling, you need not show up for work to-morrow. You have no idea how to get news, and when it comes to writing a story you make about as poor a show at it as is possible. You’ll excuse my bluntness, but the Examiner is not a kindergarten.”

EXTRACT FROM SHANE LESLIE’S BOOK.

“What do they know of England who only England know?” is a phrase of Kipling which would have puzzled all Victorian premiers except Disraeli. To Disraeli England and the East were

equally congenial, and he eventually merged the English with the Indian Crown. Kipling’s burst into fame came with the rough times of the Boer War, when prophets were needed to say smooth things. In 1888 Moreton Frewen forwarded some of Kipling’s work to England, and received word that it was * not up to the standard of the Daily Telegraph.’

AN AEROPLANE JOKE.

Here is an entirely new story about Rudyard Kipling.

Apropos of his recent series of articles on the work of our submarine heroes, a friend of his suggested that he should write a companion series on the doings of our gallant airmen.

“Perhaps! Some day! “ was Kipling’s non-committal reply.

“Oh, but you must,” insisted his friend. “ Let’s see whether we can’t hit on a good title.”

“Well,” answered Rudyard after a moment or two’s cogitation, u what do you think of ‘Plane Tales from the Sky ‘? “

The very witty pens of Punch — still “ going strong,” though seventy years old — have presented us with some most delightful Kipling parodies and paraphrases : always kindly, always well- informed, always the criticism of one who had read, and read well, the subject of his criticism and had studied the best method of satirising him. I think the following joke is well worthy of repetition and further preservation. I do not know the author, but it has the flash of the steel nib of E. V. Lucas, the really literary laureate of the open and closed roads and ways in life in literature.

A “ VERY-NEARLY “ STORY.

(Not at all by Mr. Rudyard Kipling.)

Once upon a time — not very long ago — an Eminent Writer met a Modern Child.

“Approach, Best-Beloved,” said the Eminent Writer; “come hither, oh ‘scruciating idle and pachydermatous phenomenon, and I will tell you a ‘trancing tale! “

The Modern Child regarded him with mild curiosity. “ Feeling a bit chippy? “ he asked; “slight break in the brain- box? Or why do you talk like that? — No, can’t stop now, I’m sorry to say.”

“But you must, Best-Beloved! You’ve got to, oh, ‘satiable Chimpanzee! Can’t you see that I’m an Eminent Writer, talking in this way on purpose to please you? And you don’t even know how the Ruddikip got His Great Big Side! Do stop and listen! “

“Oh, anything you like,” said the Modern Child, sitting down weariedly. “ Let me light a cigarette. Now, drive ahead! “

“Down at the back of beginning, oh, extremely Precious, there was a little Ruddikip. And he was the most ‘defatigable creature that anyone ever knew. There never was a creature so specially and ‘scusably ‘defatigable. And first he grew several Tails, which the ‘defatigable Ruddikip said were Plain, but all the other creatures said were highly-coloured, and very fine indeed. Then he made many other inventions in the day’s work, and sang songs too, and everybody agreed that there never was such a ‘defatigable Ruddikip, and his little Side began to grow — ’cause he couldn’t help it. ‘Cept when he tried a Light that Failed; then he got a hump instead. So, Best- Beloved, the ‘defatigable Ruddikip pleased all the big people and creatures, and they all shouted out ‘ Hurrah! Well- done! ‘ just as loud as ever they could shout. Then he said:

“‘ I have pleased the big people; it behoves me to do something for the rising generation of muddied oafs’ — which was the way the Ruddikip talked after his Side was grown big. So next he said a pretty piece about a most ‘strordinary Storky and Co., but the young muddied oafs only said, i Pah! Bah! Pooh! ‘ — which hurt the feelings of the Ruddikip. ‘Sons of the Spuming Spring-tide! ‘ he snorted (and no one knew what was meant), ‘ I will now turn to the Small Children, and I shall address them in decapitated polysyllables.’

“Wherefore and ‘cordingly, oh, Best- Beloved, the most and-altogether-beyond- record-’defatigable Ruddikip took his little pen, and he wrote. Then they took the writing of the ‘defatigable Ruddikip, and put it in beautiful, big black print. For they knew, oh,  Approximately Invaluable, that this is the kind of talk you like, and that you would thank the Ruddikip ever so much for tales written just in this way! “ “ Chuck it! “ said the Modern Child as he rose and fled.

STEVENSON AND KIPLING.

(First printed in a pamphlet supplement to the Letters of R. L. 5.)

To Rudyard Kipling.

In 1890, on first becoming acquainted with Mr. Kipling’s “ Soldiers Three,” Stevenson had written his congratulations red-hot. “ Well and indeed, Mr. Mulvaney,” so ran the first sentence of his note, “ but it’s as good as meat to meet in with you, sir. They tell me it was a man of the name of Kipling made ye; but indeed and they can’t fool me; it was the Lord God Almighty that made you.” Taking the cue thus offered,        L

Mr. Kipling had written back in the character of his own Irishman, Thomas Mulvaney, addressing Stevenson’s Highlander, Alan Breck Stewart. In the following letter, which belongs to an uncertain date in 1891, Alan Breck is made to reply. “ The gentleman I now serve with “ means, of course, R. L. S. himself.

(Vailima, 1891.)

Sir, — I cannot call to mind having written you, but I am so throng with occupation this may have fallen aside. I never heard tell I had any friends in Ireland, and I am led to understand you are come of no considerable family. The gentleman I now serve with assures me, however, you are a very pretty fellow and your letter deserves to be remarked. It’s true he is himself a man of very low descent upon the one side; though upon the other he counts cousinship with a gentleman, my very good friend, the late Mr. Balfour of the Shaws, in the Lothian; which I should be wanting in good fellowship to forget. He tells me besides you are a man of your hands; I am not informed of your weapon; but if all be true it sticks in my mind I would be ready to make exception in your favour, and meet you like one gentleman with another. I suppose this’ll be your purpose in your favour, which I could very ill make out; it’s one I would be sweir to baulk you of. It seems, Mr. Mcllvaine, which I take to be your name, you are in the household of a gentleman of the name of Coupling : for whom my friend is very much engaged. The distances being very uncommodious I think it will be maybe better if we leave it to these two to settle all that’s necessary to honour. I would have you to take heed it’s a very unusual condescension on my part, that bear a King’s name; and for the matter of that I think shame to be mingled with a person of the name of Coupling, which is doubtless a very good house but one I never heard tell of, any more than Stevenson. But your purpose being laudable, I would be sorry (as the word goes) to but off my nose to spite my face. I am, Sir, your humble servant,

A. STEWART,

Chevalier de St. Louis.

To Mr. Mcllvaine,

Gentleman Private in a foot regiment, under cover to Mr. Coupling.

He has read me some of your Barrack Room Ballants, which are not of so noble a strain as some of mine in the Gaelic, but I could set some of them to the pipes if this rencounter goes as it’s to be desired. Let’s first, as I understand you to move, do each other this rational courtesy; and if either will survive, we may grow better acquaint. For your tastes for what’s martial and for poetry agree with mine.

A. S.

FIRST REVIEW OF THE FIRST BOOK ON KIPLING.

“RUDYARD KIPLING: The Man and His Work,” an attempt at appreciation by G. F. Monkshood, is evidently, and as was to be expected, a big success, for a second edition is already published. Speaking of this book the critic of the Globe says : — ” It has at the basis of it both knowledge and enthusiasm — knowledge of the works estimated and enthusiasm for them. This book may be accepted as a generous exposition of Mr. Kipling’s merits as a writer. We can well believe that it will have many interested and approving readers.” While in the Daily Telegraph Mr. W. L. Courtney wrote as follows : — “ He writes fluently, and he has genuine enthusiasm for his subject, and an intimate acquaintance with his work. Moreover, the book has been submitted to Mr. Kipling, whose characteristic

letter to the author is set forth in the preface. ... Of Kipling’s heroes Mr. Monkshood has a thorough understanding, and his remarks on them are worth quoting.” Scotch reviewers are always pretty shrewd in their criticism, and one of the best of them wrote thus in the Scotsman : — ” This well- informed volume is plainly sincere. It is thoroughly well studied, and takes pains to answer all the questions that are usually put about Mr. Kipling. The writer’s enthusiasm carries both himself and his reader along in the most agreeable style. One way and another his book is full of interest, and those who wish to talk about Kipling will find it invaluable, while the thousands of his admirers will read it through with delighted enthusiasm.” H.R.H. the Duchess of York has just accepted a copy of Mr. Monkshood’s interesting monograph on Rudyard Kipling.

EPILOGUE.

Passage, O soul, to India!

Eclaircise the myths Asiatic, the primitive fables.

Not you alone, proud truths of the world,

Nor ye alone ye facts of modern science,

But myths and fables of eld, Asia’s,

Africa’s fables, The far-darting beams of the spirit, the

unloos’d dreams, The deep diving bibles and legends,

The daring plots of the poets, the elder religions;

O you temples fairer than lillies pour’d

over by the rising sun!

O you fables spurning the known, eluding the hold of the known, mounting to heaven!

You lofty and dazzling towers, pinnacled, red as roses, burnish’d with gold!

Towers of fables immortal, fashion’d from

mortal dreams! You, too, I welcome, and fully the same

as the rest! You too with joy I sing.

Passage to India!

Walt Whitman.

THE END.

The Biography

Bateman’s, Sussex – Kipling’s long-time home from 1902 till his death in 1936

SOMETHING OF MYSELF