Rudyard Kipling

Rudyard Kipling

1865–1936 · lived 70 years GB GB

Rudyard Kipling was a prolific English writer and poet, best known for his works on British India and his children's stories. He championed the idea of the 'White Man's Burden' and his writings often reflected imperialist sentiments. Despite controversy surrounding his political views, his imaginative storytelling and mastery of language continue to be recognized, with works like 'The Jungle Book' and 'Kim' remaining popular.

n. 1865-12-30, Bombaim · m. 1936-01-18, Londres

137,553 Views

Columns

Columns
(Mobile Columns of the Boer War)
Out o' the wilderness, dusty an' dry
(Time, an' 'igh time to be trekkin' again!)
Oo is it 'eads to the Detail Supply?
A sectioin, a pompom, an' six 'undred men.
'Ere comes the clerk with 'is lantern an' keys
(Time, an 'igh time to be trekkin 'again!)
" Surplus of everything--draw what you please
"For the section, the pompom, an' six 'unrdred men."
"What are our orders an' where do we lay? .
(Time, an 'igh time to be trekkin' again!)
"You came after dark--you will leave before day,
"You section, you pompom, you six' undred men!"
Down the tin street, 'alf awake an 'unfed,
'Ark to 'em blessin' the Gen'ral in bed!
Now by the church an' the outspan they wind--
Over the ridge an' it's all lef' be'ind
For the section, etc.
Soon they will camp as the dawn's growin' grey,
Roll up for coffee an' sleep while they may--
The section , etc.
Read their 'ome letters, their papers an' such,
For they'll move after dark to astonish the Dutch
With a section, etc.
'Untin' for shade as the long hours pass--
Blankets on rifles or burrows in grass,
Lies the section, etc.
Dossin' or beatin' a shirt in the sun,
Watching chameleons or cleanin' a gun,
Waits the section, etc.
With nothin' but stillness as far as you please,
An' the silly mirage stringin' islands an' seas
Round the section, etc.
So they strips off their hide an' they grills in their bones,
Till the shadows crawl out from beneath the pore stones
Toward the section, etc.
An' the Mauser-bird stops an' the jacals begin
A the 'orse-guard comes up and the Gunners 'ook in
As a 'int the pompom an' six 'undred men . . . .


Off through the dark with the stars to rely on---
(Alpha Centauri an' somethin' Orion)
Moves the section, etc.
Same bloomin' 'ole which the ant-bear 'as broke,
Same bloomin' stumble an' same bloomin' joke
Down the section, etc.
Same "which is right?" where the cart-tracks divide,
Same "give it up" from the same clever guide
To the section, etc.
Same tumble-down on the same 'idden farm,
Same white-eyed Kaffir 'oo gives the alarm--
Of the section, etc.
Same shootin' wild at the end o' the night,
Same flyin'-tackle an' same messy fight,
By the section, etc.
Same ugly 'iccup an' same 'orrid squeal,
When it's too dark to see an' it's too late to feel
In the section, etc.
(Same batch of prisoners, 'airy an' still,
Watchin' their comrades bolt over the 'ill
From the section, etc.)
Same chilly glare in the eye of the sun
As 'e gets up displeasured to see what was done
By the section, etc.
Same splash o' pink on the stoep or the kraal,
An' the same quiet face which 'as finished with all
In the section, the pompom, an' six 'undred men.
Out o' the wilderness, dusty an' dry
(Time, an' 'igh time to be trekkin' again!)
' Oo is it 'eads to the Detail Supply ?
A section, a pompom, an 'six' 'undred men.
Read full poem
Bio

Identification and basic context

Joseph Rudyard Kipling was an English writer and poet. He is widely known by his middle name, Rudyard. Born in Bombay, British India, he spent much of his formative years there and later in England. His father was an artist and principal of an art school in India. Kipling was a British national and wrote in English.

Childhood and education

Kipling's early childhood in India deeply shaped his worldview and literary output. After returning to England for his education, he attended the United Services College in Westward Ho!, Devon, which provided the setting for his novel 'Stalky & Co.'. His time there was marked by a harsh but formative experience. He received a practical education rather than a formal university degree, returning to India to begin his career in journalism.

Literary trajectory

Kipling began his literary career as a journalist in Lahore, India, in the 1880s. His early stories, often published in periodicals, showcased his keen observation of Indian life and his developing narrative skill. He gained significant fame with collections like 'Plain Tales from the Hills' and 'Soldiers Three'. His move to London in the 1890s further cemented his international reputation. He also wrote novels, essays, and songs, demonstrating a remarkable versatility.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Kipling's major works include 'The Jungle Book' (1894), 'Kim' (1901), 'The Just So Stories' (1902), and numerous poems like 'If—' and 'The White Man's Burden'. His dominant themes often revolve around India, the British Empire, the lives of soldiers, the relationship between humans and animals, and the complexities of loyalty and duty. His style is characterized by vivid imagery, a strong narrative drive, and a colloquial yet precise use of language. He mastered various forms, from short stories and novels to ballads and epic poems. His poetic voice is often didactic, authoritative, and nationalistic. He employed powerful metaphors and rhythms, making his works highly memorable.

Cultural and historical context

Kipling was a prominent voice during the height of the British Empire, and his work is inextricably linked to the imperialist project. He lived through periods of expansion, conflict, and colonial administration, which heavily influenced his perspective. He was part of a generation of writers grappling with themes of empire, race, and cultural encounter. His strong espousal of the 'White Man's Burden' placed him at the center of contemporary debates about colonialism.

Personal life

Kipling's personal life was marked by his experiences in India and his strong sense of duty and patriotism. His marriage to Caroline Starr Balestier provided a stable partnership. He experienced personal tragedies, including the early death of his daughter Josephine, which deeply affected him and is thought to have influenced some of his later works, such as 'Kim'. He was a complex figure, deeply devoted to his family and his work.

Recognition and reception

Kipling achieved immense fame and recognition during his lifetime. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1907, becoming the first English-language recipient. His works were widely translated and celebrated internationally. However, his strong imperialist views also drew criticism, and his reception has been complex, with ongoing discussions about the political implications of his writings.

Influences and legacy

Kipling was influenced by his experiences in India, classical literature, and the journalistic tradition. His legacy is significant, though debated. He is credited with profoundly shaping the adventure story genre and children's literature. His influence can be seen in subsequent generations of writers who explored themes of empire, adventure, and the wilderness. His poems, particularly 'If—', remain widely quoted. His work continues to be adapted into films and other media.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Kipling's work is often analyzed through the lens of colonialism, examining his portrayal of indigenous peoples and his support for British imperial rule. Critical interpretations highlight his narrative skill and imaginative power while also scrutinizing his problematic political stances. Debates continue regarding the extent to which his stories can be separated from their imperialist context.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Despite his fame, Kipling was notoriously private and sometimes irascible. He had a deep fascination with machinery and technology, which sometimes found its way into his stories. He was also known for his meticulous attention to detail in his writing. A lesser-known aspect is his significant contribution to the development of the short story form.

Death and memory

Rudyard Kipling died in London. His memory is preserved through his vast literary output, which continues to be read and studied, albeit often with critical commentary on his political views. His home, Batemans, is now a National Trust property and museum, offering insights into his life and work.

Poems

275

The Cure

The Cure
Long years ago, ere R--lls or R--ce
Trebled the mileage man could cover;
When Sh--nks's Mare was H--bs--n's Choice,
And Bl--r--ot had not flown to Dover:
When good hoteliers looked askance
If any power save horse-flesh drew vans--
'Time was in easy, hand-made France,
I met the Cure of Saint Juvans.
He was no babbler, but, at last,
One learned from things he left unspoken
How in some fiery, far-off past,
His, and a woman's, heart were broken.
He sought for death, but found it not,
Yet, seeking, found his true vocation,
And fifty years, by all forgot,
Toiled at a simple folk's salvation.
His pay was lower than our Dole;
The piteous little church he tended
Had neither roof nor vestments whole
Save what his own hard fingers mended:
While, any hour, at every need
(As Conscience or La Grippe assailed 'em),
His parish bade him come with speed,
And, foot or cart, he never failed 'em,
His speech--to suit his hearers--ran
From pure Parisian to gross peasant,
With interludes North African
If any Legionnaire were present:
And when some wine-ripe atheist mocked
His office or the Faith he knelt in,
He left the sinner dumb and shocked
By oaths his old Battalion dealt in.
And he was learned in Death and Life;
And he was Logic's self (as France is).
He knew his flock-man, maid, and wife--
Their forebears, failings, and finances.
Spite, Avarice, Devotion, Lies--
Passion ablaze or sick Obsession--
He dealt with each physician-wise;
Stern or most tender, at Confession...
To-day? God knows where he may lie--
His Cross of weathered beads above him:
But one not worthy to untie
His shoe-string, prays you read--and love him!
388

The Consolations of Memory

The Consolations of Memory
Circa -- Done out of Boethius by Geoffrey Chaucer
Blessed was our first age and morning-time. Then were no
waies tarren, ne no cars numberen, but each followed his owne
playing-busyness to go about singly or by large interspaces,
for to leden his viage after his luste and layen under clene hedge.
Jungling there was not, nor the overtaking wheele, and all those
now cruel clarions were full-hushed and full-still. Then nobile
horses, lest they should make the chariots moveable to run by
cause of this new feare, we did not press, and were apayed by
sweete thankes of him that drave. There was not cursings ne
adventure of death blinded bankes betweene, but good-fellowship
of yoke-mates at ignorance equal, and a one pillar of dust covered
all exodus.... But, see now how the blacke road hath
strippen herself of hearte and beauty where the dumbe lampe of
Tartarus winketh red, etc.
483

The Conversion of Aurelian McGoggin

The Conversion of Aurelian McGoggin
Ride with an idle whip, ride with an unused heel,
But, once in a way, there will come a day
When the colt must be taught to feel
The lash that falls, and the curb that galls, and the sting
of the rowelled steel.
378

The Coiner

The Coiner
To be sung by the unlearned to the tune of "King John and the Abbot of
Canterbury," and by the learned to "Tempest-a-brewing."

Against the Bermudas we foundered, whereby
This Master, that Swabber, yon Bo'sun, and I
(Our pinnace and crew being drowned in the main)
Must beg for our bread through old England again.
For a bite and a sup, and a bed of clean straw,
We'll tell you such marvels as man never saw,
On a Magical Island which no one did spy
Save this Master, that Swabber, yon Bo'sun, and I.
Seven months among Mermaids and Devils and Sprites,
And Voices that howl in the cedars o'nights,
With further enchantments we underwent there.
Good Sirs, 'tis a tale to draw guts from a bear!
'Twixt Dover and Southwark it paid us our way,
Where we found some poor players were labouring a play;
And, willing to search what such business might be,
We entered the yard, both to hear and to see.
One hailed us for seamen and courteous-ly
Did guide us apart to a tavern near by
Where we told him our tale (as to many of late),
And he gave us good cheer, so we gave him good weight.
Mulled sack and strong waters on bellies well lined
With beef and black pudding do strengthen the mind;
And seeing him greedy for marvels, at last
From plain salted truth to flat leasing we passed.
But he, when on midnight our reckoning he paid,
Says, "Never match coins with a Coiner by trade,
Or he'll turn your lead pieces to metal as rare
As shall fill him this globe, and leave something to spare...."
We slept where they laid us, and when we awoke
Was a crown or five shillings in every man's poke.
We bit them and rang them, and, finding them good,
We drank to that Coiner as honest men should!
For a cup and a crust, and a truss, etc.
486

The City of Sleep

The City of Sleep
Over the edge of the purple down,
Where the single lamplight gleams,
Know ye the road to the Merciful Town
That is hard by the Sea of Dreams--
Where the poor may lay their wrongs away,
And the sick may forget to weep?
But we--pity us! Oh, pity us!
We wakeful; ah, pity us! --
We must go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
Weary they turn from the scroll and crown,
Fetter and prayer and plough--
They that go up to the Merciful Town,
For her gates are closing now.
It is their right in the Baths of Night
Body and soul to steep,
But we--pity us! ah, pity us!
We wakeful; oh, pity us!--
We must go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
Over the edge of the purple down,
Ere the tender dreams begin,
Look--we may look--at the Merciful Town,
But we may not enter in!
Outcasts all, from her guarded wall
Back to our watch we creep:
We--pity us! ah, pity us!
We wakeful; oh, pity us!--
We that go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
431

The Changelings

The Changelings
R.N.V.R, Sea Constables
Or ever the battered liners sank
With their passengers to the dark
I was head of a Walworth Bank,
And you were a grocer's clerk.
I was a dealer in stocks and shares,
And you in butters and teas;
And we both abandoned our own affairs
And took to the dreadful seas.
Wet and worry about our ways--
Panic, onset and flight--
Had us in charge for a thousand days
And thousand-year-long night.
We saw more than the nights could hide--
More than the waves could keep--
And--certain faces over the side
Which do not go from our sleep.
We were more tired than words can tell
While the pied craft fled by,
And the swinging mounds of the Western swell
Hoisted us Heavens-high...
Now there is nothing -- not even our rank--
To witness what we have been;
And I am returned to my Walworth Bank
And you to your margarine!
493

The Cat That Walked by Himself

The Cat That Walked by Himself
Pussy can sit by the fire and sing,
Pussy can climb a tree,
Or play with a silly old cork and string
To 'muse herself, not me.
But I like Binkie my dog, because
He knows how to behave;
So, Binkie's the same as the First Friend was,
And I am the Man in Cave!
Pussy will play Man Friday till
It's time to wet her paw
And make her walk on the window-sill
(For the footprint Crusoe saw)
Then she fluffles her tail and mews,
And scratches and won't attend.
But Binkie will play whatever I choose,
And he is my true First Friend!
Pussy will rub my knees with her head
Pretending she loves me hard;
But the very minute I go to my bed
Pussy runs out in the yard,
And there she stays till the morning-light;
So I know it is only pretend;
But Binkie, he snores at my feet all night,
And he is my Firstest Friend!
486

The Butterfly That Stamped

The Butterfly That Stamped
There was never a Queen like Balkis,
From here to the wide world's end;
But Balkis talked to a butterfly
As you would talk to a friend.
There was never a King like Solomon
Not since the world began;
But Solomon talked to a butterfly
As a man would talk to a man.
She was Queen of Sabea--
And he was Asia's Lord--
But they both of 'em talked to butterflies
When they took their walks abroad!
576

The Burden

The Burden
One grief on me is laid
Each day of every year,
Wherein no soul can aid,
Whereof no soul can hear:
Whereto no end is seen
Except to grieve again--
Ah, Mary Magdalene,
Where is there greater pain?
To dream on dear disgrace
Each hour of every day--
To bring no honest face
To aught I do or say:
To lie from morn till e'en--
To know my lies are vain--
Ah, Mary Magdalene,
Where can be greater pain?
To watch my steadfast fear
Attend mine every way
Each day of every year--
Each hour of every day:
To burn, and chill between--
To quake and rage again--
Ah, Mary Magdalene,
Where shall be greater pain:
One grave to me was given--
To guard till Judgment Day--
But God looked down from Heaven
And rolled the Stone away!
One day of all my years--
One hour of that one day--
His Angel saw my tears
And rolled the Stone away!
461

The Boy Scouts' Patrol Song

The Boy Scouts' Patrol Song

These are our regulations --
There's just one law for the Scout
And the first and the last, and the present and the past,
And the future and the perfect is "Look out!"
I, thou and he, look out!
We, ye and they, look out!
Though you didn't or you wouldn't
Or you hadn't or you couldn't;
You jolly well must look out!
Look out, when you start for the day
That your kit is packed to your mind;
There is no use going away
With half of it left behind.
Look out that your laces are tight,
And your boots are easy and stout,
Or you'll end with a blister at night.
(Chorus) All Patrols look out!
Look out for the birds of the air,
Look out for the beasts of the field --
They'll tell you how and where
The other side's concealed.
When the blackbird bolts from the copse,
Or the cattle are staring about,
The wise commander stops
And (chorus) All Patrols look out!
Look out when your front is clear,
And you feel you are bound to win.
Look out for your flank and your rear --
That's where surprises begin.
For the rustle that isn't a rat,
For the splash that isn't a trout,
For the boulder that may be a hat
(Chorus) All Patrols look out!
For the innocent knee-high grass,
For the ditch that never tells,
Look out! Look out ere you pass --
And look out for everything else!
A sign mis-read as you run
May turn retreat to a rout --
For all things under the sun
(Chorus) All Patrols look out!
Look out when your temper goes
At the end of a losing game;
When your boots are too tight for your toes;


And you answer and argue and blame.
It's the hardest part of the Low,
But it has to be learnt by the Scout --
For whining and shirking and "jaw"
(Chorus) All Patrols look out!
611

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