Two important additions to the available corpus of Kipling’s writings are Kipling’s India: Uncollected Sketches, ed. Thomas Pinney (1986); and Early Verse by Rudyard Kipling 1879–1889: Unpublished, Uncollected and Rarely Collected Poems, ed. Andrew Rutherford (1986). Indispensable is Pinney’s edition of The Letters of Rudyard Kipling, available in four volumes.
A Chronology of Kipling’s Life and Works
Isabel Quigly
The dates given here for Kipling’s works are those of first authorized publication in volume form, whether this was in India, America, or England. (The dates of subsequent editions are not listed.) It should be noted that individual poems and stories collected in these volumes had in many cases appeared in newspapers or magazines of earlier dates. For full details see James McG. Stewart, Rudyard Kipling: A Bibliographical Catalogue, ed. A. W. Yeats, Toronto, 1959; but see also the editors’ notes in this World’s Classics series.
1865
Rudyard Kipling born at Bombay on 30 December, son of John Lockwood Kipling and Alice Kipling (née Macdonald).
1871
In December Rudyard and his sister Alice Macdonald Kipling (‘Trix’), who was born in 1868, are left in the charge of Captain and Mrs Holloway at Lome Lodge, Southsea (‘The House of Desolation’), while their parents return to India.
1877
Alice Kipling returns from India in March/April and removes the children from Lome Lodge, though Trix returns there subsequently.
1878
Kipling is admitted in January to the United Services College at Westward Ho! in Devon. First visit to France with his father that summer. (Many visits later in his life.)
1880
Meets and falls in love with Florence Garrard, a fellow-boarder of Trix’s at Southsea and prototype of Maisie in The Light that Failed.
1881
Appointed editor of the United Services College Chronicle. Schoolboy Lyrics privately printed by his parents in Lahore, for limited circulation.
1882
Leaves school at end of summer term. Sails for India on 20 September; arrives Bombay on 18 October. Takes up post as assistant-editor of the Civil and Military Gazette in Lahore in the Punjab, where his father is now Principal of the Mayo College of Art and Curator of the Lahore Museum. Annual leaves from 1883 to 1888 are spent at Simla, except in 1884 when the family goes to Dalhousie.
1884
Echoes (by Rudyard and Trix, who has now rejoined the family in Lahore).
1885
Quartette (a Christmas Annual by Rudyard, Trix, and their parents).
1886
Departmental Ditties.
1887
Transferred in the autumn to the staff of the Pioneer, the Civil and Military Gazette’s sister-paper, in Allahabad in the North-West Provinces. As special correspondent in Rajputana he writes the articles later collected as ‘Letters of Marque’ in From Sea to Sea. Becomes friendly with Professor and Mrs Hill, and shares their bungalow.
1888
Plain Tales from the Hills. Takes on the additional responsibility of writing for the Week’s News, a new publication sponsored by the Pioneer.
1888–9
Soldiers Three; The Story of the Gadshys; In Black and White; Under the Deodars; The Phantom Rickshaw; Wee Willie Winkie.
1889
Leaves India on 9 March; travels to San Francisco with Professor and Mrs Hill via Rangoon, Singapore, Hong Kong, and Japan. Crosses the United States on his own, writing the articles later collected in From Sea to Sea. Falls in love with Mrs Hill’s sister Caroline Taylor. Reaches Liverpool in October, and makes his début in the London literary world.
1890
Enjoys literary success, but suffers breakdown. Visits Italy. The Light that Failed.
1891
Visits South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, and (for the last time) India. Returns to England on hearing of the death of his American friend Wolcott Balestier. Life’s Handicap.
1892
Marries Wolcott’s sister Caroline Starr Balestier (‘Carrie’) in January. (The bride is given away by Henry James.) Their world tour is cut short by the loss of his savings in the collapse of the Oriental Banking Company. They establish their home at Brattleboro in Vermont, on the Balestier family estate. Daughter Josephine born in December. The Naulahka (written in collaboration with Wolcott Balestier). Barrack-Room Ballads.
1893
Many Inventions.
1894
The Jungle Book.
1895
The Second Jungle Book.
1896
Second daughter Elsie born in February. Quarrel with brother-in-law Beatty Balestier and subsequent court case end their stay in Brattleboro. Return to England (Torquay). The Seven Seas.
1897
Settles at Rottingdean in Sussex. Son John born in August. Captains Courageous.
1898
The first of many winters at Cape Town. Meets Sir Alfred Milner and Cecil Rhodes who becomes a close friend. Visits Rhodesia. The Day’s Work.
1899
Disastrous visit to the United States. Nearly dies of pneumonia in New York. Death of Josephine. Never returns to USA. Stalky and Co.; From Sea to Sea.
1900
Helps for a time with army newspaper The Friend in South Africa during Boer War. Observes minor action at Karee Siding.
1901
Kim.
1902
Settles at ‘Bateman’s’ at Burwash in Sussex. Just So Stories.
1903
The Five Nations.
1904
Traffics and Discoveries.
1906
Puck of Pook’s Hill.
1907
Nobel Prize for Literature. Visit to Canada. Collected Verse.
1909
Actions and Reactions; Abaft the Funnel.
1910
Rewards and Fairies. Death of Kipling’s mother.
1911
Death of Kipling’s father.
1913
Visit to Egypt. Songs from Books.
1914–18 Visits to the Front and to the Fleet. The New Army in Training, France at War, Sea Warfare, and other war pamphlets.
1915
John Kipling reported missing on his first day in action with the Irish Guards in the Battle of Loos on 27 September. His body was never found.
1917
A Diversity of Creatures. Kipling becomes a member of the Imperial War Graves Commission.
1919
The Years Between; Rudyard Kipling’s Verse: Inclusive Edition.
1920
Letters of Travel.
1923
The Irish Guards in the Great War, Land and Sea Tales for Scouts and Guides.
1924
Daughter Elsie marries Captain George Bambridge, MC.
1926
Debits and Credits.
1927
Voyage to Brazil.
1928
A Book of Words.
1930
Thy Servant a Dog. Visit to the West Indies.
1932
Limits and Renewals.
1933
Souvenirs of France.
1936
Kipling’s death, 18 January.
1937
Something of Myself For My Friends Known and Unknown.
1937–9
The Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling, Sussex Edition. Prepared by Kipling in the last years of his life, this edition contains some previously uncollected items; but in spite of its title it does not include all his works.
1939
Death of Mrs Kipling.
1940
The Definitive Edition of Rudyard Kipling’s Verse. This is the last of the series of ‘Inclusive Editions’ of his verse published in 1919, 1921, 1927, and 1933. In spite of its title the edition is far from definitive in terms of its inclusiveness or textual authority.
1948
Death of Kipling’s sister Trix (Mrs John Fleming).
1976
Death of Kipling’s daughter Elsie (Mrs George Bambridge).
The Complete Stalky & Co.
Rudyard Kipling
TO THE MEMORY OF
CORMELL PRICE
Headmaster, United Services College
Westward Ho! Bideford, North Devon
1874–1894
‘Let us now praise famous men’—
Men of little showing—
For their work continueth,
And their work continueth,
Broad and deep continueth,
Greater than their knowing!
Western wind and open surge
Took us from our mothers;
Flung us on a naked shore
(Twelve bleak houses by the shore!
Seven summers by the shore!)
’Mid two hundred brothers.
There we met with famous men
Set in office o’er us;
And they beat on us with rods—
Faithfully with many rods—
Daily beat us on with rods,
For the love they bore us.
Out of Egypt unto Troy—
Over Himalaya—
Far and sure our bands have gone—
Hy—Brasil or Babylon,
Islands of the Southern Run,
And cities of Cathaia!
And we all praise famous men—
Ancients of the College;
For they taught us common sense—
Tried to teach us common sense—
Truth and God’s Own Common Sense,
Which is more than knowledge!
Each degree of Latitude
Strung about Creation
Seeth one or more of us
(Of one muster all of us),
Diligent in that he does,
Keen in his vocation.
This we learned from famous men,
Knowing not its uses,
When they showed, in daily work,
Man must finish off his work—
Right or wrong, his daily work—
And without excuses.
Servants of the Staff and chain.
Mine and fuse and grapnel—
Some before the face of Kings,
Stand before the face of Kings;
Bearing gifts to divers Kings—
Gifts of case and shrapnel.
This we learned from famous men
Teaching in our borders,
Who declared it was best,
Safest, easiest, and best—
Expeditious, wise, and best—
To obey your orders.
Some beneath the further stars
Bear the greater burden:
Set to serve the lands they rule,
(Save he serve no man may rule),
Serve and love the lands they rule;
Seeking praise nor guerdon.
This we learned from famous men,
Knowing not we learned it.
Only, as the years went by—
Lonely, as the years went by—
Far from help as years went by,
Plainer we discerned it.
Wherefore praise we famous men
From whose bays we borrow—
They that put aside To—day—
All the joys of their To—day—
And with toil of their To—day
Bought for us To—morrow!
Bless and praise we famous men—
Men of little showing—
For their work continueth,
And their work continueth,
Broad and deep continueth,
Great beyond their knowing!
‘Stalky’
Rudyard Kipling
‘And then,’ it was a boy’s voice, curiously level and even, ‘De Vitré said we were beastly funks not to help, and I said there were too many chaps in it to suit us. Besides, there’s bound to be a mess somewhere or other, with old De Vitré in charge. Wasn’t I right, Beetle?’
‘And, anyhow, it’s a silly biznai, bung through. What’ll they do with the beastly cows when they’ve got ’em? You can milk a cow—if she’ll stand still. That’s all right, but drivin’ ’em about—’
‘You’re a pig, Beetle.’
‘No, I ain’t. What is the sense of drivin’ a lot of cows up from the Burrows to—to—where is it?’
‘They’re tryin’ to drive ’em up to Toowey’s farmyard at the top of the hill—the empty one, where we smoked last Tuesday. It’s a revenge. Old Vidley chivied De Vitré twice last week for ridin’ his ponies on the Burrows; and De Vitré’s goin’ to lift as many of old Vidley’s cattle as he can and plant ’em up the hill. He’ll muck it, though—with Parsons, Orrin and Howlett helpin’ him. They’ll only yell, an’ shout, an’ bunk if they see Vidley.’
‘We might have managed it,’ said M‘Turk slowly, turning up his coat-collar against the rain that swept over the Burrows. His hair was of the dark mahogany red that goes with a certain temperament.
‘We should,’ Corkran replied with equal confidence. ‘But they’ve gone into it as if it was a sort of spadger—hunt.* I’ve never done any cattle-liftin’, but it seems to me-e-e that one might just as well be stalky* about a thing as not.’
The smoking vapours of the Atlantic drove in wreaths above the boys’ heads. Out of the mist to windward, beyond the grey bar of the Pebble Ridge, came the unceasing roar of mile-long Atlantic rollers. To leeward, a few stray ponies and cattle, the property of the Northam potwallopers,* and the unwilling playthings of the boys in their leisure hours, showed through the haze. The three boys had halted by the Cattle-gate which marks the limit of cultivation, where the fields come down to the Burrows from Northam Hill. Beetle, shock-headed and spectacled, drew his nose to and fro along the wet top-bar; M‘Turk shifted from one foot to the other, watching the water drain into either print; while Corkran whistled through his teeth as he leaned against a sod-bank, peering into the mist.
A grown or sane person might have called the weather vile; but the boys at that school had not yet learned the national interest in climate. It was a little damp, to be sure; but it was always damp in the Easter term, and sea—wet, they held, could not give one a cold under any circumstances. Mackintoshes were things to go to church in, but crippling if one had to run at short notice across heavy country. So they waited serenely in the downpour, clad as their mothers would not have cared to see.
‘I say, Corky,’* said Beetle, wiping his spectacles for the twentieth time, ‘if we aren’t going to help De Vitré, what are we here for?’
‘We’re goin’ to watch,’ was the answer. ‘Keep your eye on your Uncle and he’ll pull you through.’
‘It’s an awful biznai, driving cattle—in open country,’ said M‘Turk, who, as the son of an Irish baronet, knew something of these operations. ‘They’ll have to run half over the Burrows after ’em. ’S’pose they’re ridin’ Vidley’s ponies?’
‘De Vitré’s sure to be. He’s a dab on a horse. Listen! What a filthy row they’re making. They’ll be heard for miles.’
The air filled with whoops and shouts, cries, words of command, the rattle of broken golf-clubs, and a clatter of hooves. Three cows with their calves came up to the Cattle-gate at a milch-canter, followed by four wild-eyed bullocks and two rough-coated ponies. A fat and freckled youth of fifteen trotted behind them, riding bareback and brandishing a hedge-stake. De Vitré, up to a certain point, was an inventive youth, with a passion for horse-exercise that the Northam farmers did not encourage. Farmer Vidley, who could not understand that a grazing pony likes being galloped about, had once called him a thief, and the insult rankled. Hence the raid.
‘Come on,’ he cried over his shoulder. ‘Open the gate, Corkran, or they’ll all cut back again. We’ve had no end of bother to get ’em. Oh, won’t old Vidley be wild!’
Three boys on foot ran up, ‘shooing’ the cattle in excited and amateur fashion, till they headed them into the narrow, high-banked Devonshir
e lane that ran uphill.
‘Come on, Corkran. It’s no end of a lark,’ pleaded De Vitré; but Corkran shook his head. The affair had been presented to him after dinner that day as a completed scheme, in which he might, by favour, play a minor part. And Arthur Lionel Corkran, No. 104, did not care for lieutenancies.
‘You’ll only be collared,’ he cried, as he shut the gate. ‘Parsons and Orrin are no good in a row. You’ll be collared sure as a gun, De Vitré.’ .
‘Oh, you’re a beastly funk!’ The speaker was already hidden by the fog.
‘Hang it all,’ said M‘Turk. ‘It’s about the first time we’ve ever tried a cattle-lift at the Coll. Let’s—’
‘Not much,’ said Corkran firmly; ‘keep your eye on your Uncle.’ His word was law in these matters, for experience had taught them that if they manœuvred without Corkran they fell into trouble.
‘You’re wrathy because you didn’t think of it first,’ said Beetle. Corkran kicked him thrice calmly, neither he nor Beetle changing a muscle the while.
‘No, I ain’t; but it isn’t stalky enough for me.’
‘Stalky,’ in their school vocabulary, meant clever, well-considered and wily, as applied to plans of action; and ‘stalkiness’ was the one virtue Corkran toiled after.
The Complete Stalky & Co Page 4