“In consideration of the power of observation, originality of imagination, virility of ideas, and remarkable talent for narration which characterize the creations of this world famous author.”
The following characters are a vital part of me: Mowgli the man-cub and his friends Bagheera the panther and Baloo the bear, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi the heroic mongoose, Dan and Peachey the men who would be kings, Kim, Harvey and Dan the captains courageous, and the best of all men Ganga Din. If you have never met my friends please allow me to introduce you. Rudyard Kipling’s characters are some of the most vivid in literature. It is not an accident that Disney and other Hollywood studios have used them as the basis of films. What is most remarkable about this creative genius is these characters are presented in different mediums. The Jungle Book is children’s lit. The Man Who Would Be King is a short story. Ganga Din is a rhyming poem. My introduction to Kipling was in elementary school. Our teacher read the poem Boots as an example of Imagery Poetry. The cadence of the poem mimicked the activity being described. I could see lines of solders marching. For reasons I cannot explain it stuck with me. Kipling wrote short stories, children’s literature, rhyming verse, free verse, novels, autobiography, science fiction, hymns, and social commentary. If there was a way words could be arranged this man was a master of the genus.
Born in Bombay, India on December 30, 1865 to a family immersed in the arts he spoke the language of the porter and his ayah (nanny) more fluently than English. His immersion in India, and more profoundly the British Empire, survived an education on the British Isles. At the age of seventeen he returned to India where he first wrote for and then edited several newspapers. As a reporter he traveled over the north of India absorbing the culture and observing people. The Man Who Would Be King is as much about running a newspaper in India as it is great adventure. It was during his tenure as newspaper editor that he was first published. Departmental Ditties and Plain Tales from the Hills ,while popular in India, were greeted enthusiastically in England and his career as a writer was launched. New found fame allowed him to leave India for England sailing east. After a stop in Japan he traveled across the United States and on to London where he settled. Never in good health; he particularly feared blindness as weak eyesight plagued him from childhood. In 1892 he married a United States citizen and settled in Vermont. Some of his most productive years were here. Kim, The Jungle Books, and Captains Courageous all came from his time in the United States as did three children. On returning to England he was accepted as the Empire’s most honored poet. When offered the position of Poet Laureate and a knighthood Kipling refused. It was at this time the family began spending English winters in South African summers. In Cecil Rhodes, England’s most aggressive imperialist, Kipling found a kindred spirit. During the Boer War he traveled over the war zone as a reporter. He continued to the end of his life traveling and writing. When his son John was lost without trace in World War I he became a member of the War Graves Commission and was personally the moving force behind the monument to the Unknown Soldier in Britain. He died at the age of seventy on January 18, 1935. His ashes are buried in the Poets’ Corner of Westminster Abby among the lights of English literature. Rudyard Kipling is still one of the most read authors in the English language.
Alfred Nobel was very specific in his will that, “prizes be awarded without considerations of nationality.” He was naïve. In a world arming for what would be World War I political considerations had to enter the Committee’s considerations. Prizes had been awarded to two Frenchmen, a German, a Norwegian, a Spaniard, a Pole , and an Italian. Since 1903 the English had been pushing Algernon Swinburne, in 1907 they made one last effort as their candidate was aging. Much to everyone’s surprise the Nobel Committee rejected the British Society of Authors’ choice and selected Rudyard Kipling, the youngest person to ever receive the honor. I willing admit I had never heard of Swinburne, the Committee made a wise choice.
As you may have noticed I am something of a fan. Rudyard Kipling has been in my blood since childhood. Among Rudyard Kipling’s friends was Lord Baden-Powell, founder of the Boy Scouts. It was from Mowgli that the Cub Scouts were named. I once was a Wolf Scout. Kipling’s work is all through the Scouting movement. So vivid is his writing that the young mind cannot help but be caught up in the adventure. With age comes appreciation of poetry and perspective. As an adult I am impressed with Kipling’s presentation of the ugliness and futility of war. He knew the common solder and vividly depicts the grim and painful life in the ranks. It is ironic that we are again caught up in Afghanistan which provided the setting for many of his most powerful pieces. Santayana was right, “Those who fail to learn from history will be forced to repeat it.” Maybe on this subject all we need to do is read Kipling.
Below is the poem Boots. This is not the best of Kipling, nor is it my favorite. It is an example of the creativity of this brilliant mind. The first time I heard it and every time since I can see a column of soldiers marching across barren land to a destination unknown. Please, if you have not read Ganga-din, Danny Deever, or Recessional spend the few minutes necessary to look them up. For a short while you will be in the company of a great man in a pivotal time.
We’re foot-slog-slog-slog-slogin’ over Africa
Foot-foot-foot-foot-sloggin’ over Africa
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin’ up an’ down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
Seven-six-eleven-five-nine-an’ twenty mile today
Four-eleven-seventeen-thirty-two the day before
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin’ up an’ down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
Don’t-don’t-don’t –don’t look at what’s in front of you
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin’ up an down again)
Men-men-men-men-men go mad with watching em
An’ there’s no discharge in the war!
Try-try-try-try-to think o’ something different
Oh-my- God-keep-me from goin’ lunatic!
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin’ up an’ down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
Count-count-count-count-the bullets the bandoliers
If-your-eyes-drop-they will get atop o’ you
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin’ up an’ down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
We-can-stick-out-‘unger, thirst, an’ weariness
But-not-not-not-not the chronic sight of ’em
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin’ up an’ down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
‘Taint –so-bad-by-day because o’ company
But night-brings-long-strings-‘o forty thousand million
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin’ up an’ down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
I-‘ave-marched-six-weeks in ‘Ell an’ certify
It-is-not-fire-devils, dark or anything,
But boots-boots-boots-boots-movin’ up an’ down again!)
An’ there’s no discharge in the war!
In 1908 the Nobel Prize in Literature was awarded to Rudolf Christoph Eucken. I never heard of the guy, but gather he was a German philosopher. This looks like a long haul; the score from Götterdammerung seems in order. How much beer and how many bratwurst will it take to get through The Meaning and Value of Life?
