Kipling

Conclusion

Introduction

It does not much matter what people think of a man after his death, wrote Kipling near the end of his life, with a scornful eye on future biographers.¹

With a view to frustrating biography, he set about the destruction of many of his own papers, and those of his parents, and wrote an autobiography almost comically deficient in its description of his life events.

He knew his life would attract interest. He was the most famous English writer in the days when Britain ruled the largest empire ever known; he was the first writer of English to win the Nobel Prize.

His work was richly biographical: Kipling was cruelly abandoned and abused as a child, but was to create some of the most enduring children’s characters ever written in Mowgli and Kim.

He took inspiration for his children’s tales from his own children but, to his despair, two were to die young. Family quarrels and the mental illness of those around him cursed his middle years; and in old age simplistic political views, crudely expressed, diminished his reputation.

He has been castigated as a misogynist, though few writers of either sex have written so warmly about middle-aged women. Similarly, he can be criticised for his racial views, but no other artist wrote with such intimacy of native life. He was physically unfit for military service but his identification with soldiers was so deep that real soldiers started acting like the characters in his stories.

Kipling was in London in the spectacular 1890s, placing him in the spectrum of literary ‘decadents’ and ‘hearties’, when it was by no means obvious in which group he fitted. The contradictions in his character are revealed in his biographical novel The Light that Failed, which gives an insight into the challenge of the New Woman to society, the paralysing confusion which struck men when presented by a woman who, like the woman Kipling himself loved, had her own goals in life, her own work and her own sexual self-sufficiency.

Kipling was the first world writer, making his home in four continents. While he is thought of as quintessentially Indian, he in fact spent only 12 of his 70 years in India, visiting the country for the last time at the age of 25. He married an American and spent the first four years of his married life in the United States. He kept a home in South Africa for 35 years, to the end of his life. America supplied his wife, the formidable Carrie; and Africa a father-figure for his mature years in the form of Cecil Rhodes. He had a close relationship to France all his life, which was reciprocated in the acclaim he received there.

Kipling’s work is now so well known that many people who have never read any Kipling think they have. He added more phrases to the language than any writer except Shakespeare and the translators of the King James Bible.

Unlike his contemporaries in London – Conan Doyle, Oscar Wilde or Bram Stoker, who created one enduring character each – Kipling created a cast of characters who live independently of the stories, such as Mowgli, Mrs Hauksbee, Kim and Mulvaney. The only recent writer he resembles in this is Dickens, another immensely prolific writer and also a journalist as well as a fiction writer. In verse, Kipling is a true successor to Browning, Swinburne and Tennyson, whose clear influences he shows. His poem ‘If’ is still among the best known in the English language.

Despite his many achievements, Kipling was always a subject of controversy: at first he was adored by reviewers; after 1891 he was attacked by the critics yet adored by the public; as the 20th century wore on he fell from favour with the public but increasingly began to enjoy the grudging respect of critics. Regardless of the criticism, this multi-faceted man will not go away: his work stays in print and new generations around the world read him. As George Orwell said, ‘During five literary generations every enlightened person has despised him, and at the end of that time nine tenths of those enlightened persons are forgotten and Kipling is in some sense still there’.² He wrote thus in 1942, a truth which is undiminished by the passing years.

A Poor White

With his rich evocation of the Indian sub-continent, it is difficult to imagine Rudyard Kipling as anything but a son of India, though his birth in Bombay in 1865 was largely a matter of chance. The Kipling family had arrived in India less by design or desire than as a result of a successful job application.

Kipling’s father, John Lockwood Kipling, the son of a Methodist minister, became an architectural sculptor, securing a post at the Department of Science and Art in South Kensington. On departmental trips to the potteries in Staffordshire he became friendly with the family of another Methodist minister, Frederick Macdonald, who had five lively sisters. John Lockwood (always known by his middle name) first met Alice Macdonald at a picnic at Lake Rudyard, Staffordshire, in spring 1863. She was pretty and witty, and they discovered a common love of Browning and other artistic interests.

The Macdonald sisters were to weave themselves deeply into the fabric of artistic and political life in England, giving Rudyard Kipling a network of contacts which belied the impression he often sought to give of a struggling writer who had achieved everything by his own efforts. He was in fact born into a highly successful and influential family. His aunt Georgina married the leading Pre-Raphaelite painter Edward Burne-Jones; his aunt Agnes married another successful artist, Edward Poynter; his aunt Louisa married a wealthy iron-master, later chairman of the Great Western Railway and father of Stanley Baldwin the prime minister.

By comparison Alice’s marriage to Lockwood Kipling on 18 March 1865 in Kensington was not felt to be a great match, though the reception was a grand affair attended by such luminaries as Swinburne, Rossetti and Ford Madox Brown.

Lockwood, eager to make his way in the world, had accepted a post as architectural sculptor at the School of Art and Industry in Bombay. The newlyweds sailed on 12 April 1865, and Rudyard was almost certainly conceived on the journey. They arrived at Bombay, the Gateway of India, which was rapidly becoming the commercial heart of the sub-continent. With neither having any previous family experience of India, Alice and Lockwood Kipling must have experienced what would later be called culture shock when they first encountered the heat, the crowds, smells, sounds and colours of India when the ship docked to be met by teeming crowds of porters, hawkers and families waiting for the boat, amid a crush of rickshaws, carriages and working animals, including elephants.

Lockwood took up his position at the school of art founded by a Parsee, Sir Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy. He wanted Bombay to become an artistic as it was an industrial centre, rather as English industrialists in Manchester and Birmingham had turned from the mere production of wealth to the cultivation of the arts. Lockwood set to work learning Indian techniques and materials and reviving the great Indian art of sculpture.

Alice Kipling settled down to pregnancy in unfamiliar surroundings in a whitewashed bungalow close to the Jeejeebhoy School of Art, which was still under construction. She had to learn how to deal with the servants, who were far more numerous than in households she had known in England, and to come to terms with the rigid Anglo-Indian social hierarchy in which the Kiplings occupied a far from senior position.

The birth of her son was difficult, taking six days; a labour relieved, the servants said, only when they sacrificed a goat kid to the goddess Kali. The baby arrived on 30 December 1865 and was christened Joseph Rudyard Kipling, though he was always known as Rud or Ruddy.

The British India into which Kipling was born in 1865 was just seven years old, having been founded in 1858 by the India Act. The British had progressively dominated India, with a series of spectacular military victories, the most notable of which was Clive’s at Plassey in 1757. The country was governed, however, by the East India Company, the primary objective of which was obviously commercial.

In 1857 the behaviour of the company with its indifference to native culture and religious concerns led to the armed rebellion of Indian troops referred to as the Indian Mutiny (many Indians now think of it as the First War of Independence). After the suppression of the Mutiny, the British government’s response to the conditions which had brought it about was the India Act, making the India Office in London responsible for rule with the cabinet post of Secretary of State for India and the appointment of a Viceroy of India. Queen Victoria was to be declared Empress of India in 1877.

When Alice Kipling became pregnant again, in 1867, the family decided to return to England to have the baby and she set sail with her rumbustious two-year-old. Her sisters had many fine qualities but they were not excessively maternal and they found their nephew with his loud cries of ‘Ruddy is coming!’ an irritant.³ A sister to Kipling was born on 11 June 1868, after another difficult labour, and was christened Alice, though she was always known by her father’s name for her, Trix. A third child was born and died in India in 1870, and the Kiplings must have decided that given Alice’s poor health and the problems of previous births, they would be content with two children.

Back in Bombay, Kipling – Rud-baba to the doting servants – learned to speak Hindustani as naturally as English, or even more so, and had to be corrected when he used the vernacular in his parents’ drawing room. Kipling later wrote of how he spoke ‘English’, haltingly translated out of the vernacular idiom that one thought and dreamed in. He delighted in the far-going Arab dhows on the pearly waters, and gaily dressed Parsees wading out to worship the sunset.⁴ Kipling had been born into a Methodist family but christened in the Church of England; his sister’s Goan Roman Catholic nurse took him to her church; and his Hindu bearer, Meera, took him to Shiva’s temple. Rudyard was to make little, if any, distinction between God as manifest in these different traditions, and was when writing his memoirs to ascribe all his good fortune to Allah the Dispenser of Events.⁵

The parents and two children left India in April 1871 for a visit to England when Rudyard was five. After an unremarkable round of family visits they stayed at lodgings. Their parents then took the children one morning to a house in Southsea and left them there; and returned to India. Their children were boarded with strangers they had found in a newspaper advertisement. They had said goodbye to Rudyard who was just short of his sixth birthday; Trix, at two, was too young to understand. His parents told him at dawn he must learn quickly to read and write so they might send him letters and books, and left him in a house smelling of aridity and emptiness.⁶ Why the children were not placed with their aunts is a mystery. Perhaps the subject had been broached and the aunts were not receptive; perhaps Lockwood and Alice, the poor relations, forbore to ask such a favour and preferred to rely on their own meagre resources. They would not bring up their children in India from terror that they would ‘go native’ and become culturally more Indian than English. One of Kipling’s finest works, Kim, is the story of precisely such an Anglo-Indian child who grows up owing more to the bazaars and temples than the tea parties.

The woman with whom they lodged made a living by taking in children whose parents were in India. Sarah Holloway was hewn of coarse material which was not softened by marriage to her social superior, a former naval man described as a sea-captain, who was much older than her. The captain was kindly to Rudyard and enjoyed taking him to see the boats at Portsmouth, but it was Mrs Holloway who was the dominant figure in Kipling’s life. As Kipling wrote, the establishment was run with the full vigour of the Evangelical as revealed to the Woman. I had never heard of Hell, so I was introduced to it in all its terrors.⁷ He called it The House of Desolation.

The children speculated miserably on why they had been abandoned, unable to understand what had led their parents to leave them to such horrors. Mrs Holloway told them it was because they had been naughty and she had taken them in out of pity. Her husband explained that it was because India was too hot for children, which they found hard to credit as Kipling had been there for five years with no ill effect. The Holloways’ son Harry told them they were workhouse brats who had been taken in out of charity and nothing of theirs really belonged to them. He broke Trix’s doll to prove it.

Transgressions such as spilling a drop of gravy at dinner, forgetting to put a slate away or ‘crying like silly babies’ when they were read letters from their parents in Bombay led to the punishment of separation from each other and solitary confinement for 24 hours.

Kipling, who could not yet read, was made to do so without explanation, under the usual fear of punishment. One day he realised reading was not an obligation but a joy, the opening of the door on a magical world, a means to everything that would make me happy.⁸ He was soon reading adventure stories from all corners of the Empire; he was later to acknowledge the influence of these works on his own writing.

As soon as his pleasure was known, deprivation from reading was added to the list of punishments. Mrs Holloway was suspicious of his imaginative activities and ordered him to play in a way that she could hear. Kipling rigged up a construction of child’s bricks and a little table and would work the table to provide the necessary banging noises of playing while he got on with reading a book. Inevitably he was found out, and punished for acting a lie.⁹

Horrifyingly for the child Kipling, Mrs Holloway’s obsession was with the life of the mind. She punished him for what he thought. She punished him for being talkative, for asking questions all the time, which she described as ‘showing off’. He shared a room with her son who did not relent in torment at night for he made Kipling go through the events of the day, caught him out on inconsistencies and reported them the next morning to his mother as ‘lies’, and justification for a further beating.

Such is Kipling’s description of his infant life. The high point of the year was staying with Aunt Georgie and Edward Burne- Jones at the Grange, North End Road, London. He experienced as much love and affection as he could desire and he enjoyed the smell of paints and turpentine form his uncle’s studio and games with his two cousins. Other visitors included William Morris and Robert Browning. His aunt Georgie later asked why he had not told her how badly he was being treated but Kipling was unable to answer beyond asserting that Children tell little more than animals, for what comes to them they accept as eternally established.¹⁰

It has been questioned quite how dreadful this life really was, for Trix stayed there for eight years; when his mother took Kipling away, she returned Trix to the place, which she would hardly have done had life there been so abominable. Trix was deeply resentful, however, even though she had to some extent come under Mrs Holloway’s spell. The biographer Birkenhead noted that she commented late in life that her parents ‘had seen Harry’s crafty eyes, they had heard [Mrs Holloway’s] false voice; they must have known that she was of the seaside landlady type, and yet they let her be my only teacher and companion until I was ten years old.’ Mrs Holloway’s lower class and Kipling’s recognition of it may have influenced her bad behaviour, as she knew the two children were talking about her when they