Presentation Speech by C.D. af Wirsén, Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy, on December 10, 1907
The suggestions for names of suitable
recipients of this year's Nobel Prize in Literature have been
numerous, and there has been no dearth of exceedingly
well-qualified candidates for this honourable and coveted
distinction.
From these candidates, the Swedish Academy has selected for this
occasion a writer who belongs to Great Britain. For centuries
past the literature of England has flourished and blossomed with
marvellous luxuriance. When Tennyson's immortal lyre was silenced
forever, the cry which is so customary at the passing of literary
giants was raised. With him the glorious reign of poetry is over;
there is none to take up the mantle. Similar despairing notes
were struck in this country on the demise of Tegnér, but it
is not so with the fair goddess Poetry. She does not perish, is
not deposed from her high estate; she but arrays herself in a
fresh garb to suit the altered tastes of a new age.
In the works of Tennyson idealism is so pervasive that it meets
the eye in a very palpable and direct form. Traits of idealism,
however, may be traced in the conceptions and gifts of writers
who differ widely from him, such writers who seem primarily
concerned with mere externals and who have won renown especially
for their vivid word-picturings of the various phases of the
strenuous, pulsating life of our own times, that life which is
often chequered and fretted by the painful struggle for existence
and by all its concomitant worries and embarrassments. This
description applies to Rudyard Kipling, to whom the Swedish
Academy has awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature this year. Of
him a French author, who has devoted much time and study to
English literature, wrote more than six years ago: «He,
Kipling, is undoubtedly the most noteworthy figure that has
appeared within recent years in the domain of English
literature.»
Kipling was born in Bombay on December 30, 1865. At the age of
six he was placed in the care of some relatives in England, but
he returned to India on reaching the age of seventeen. He
obtained a position on the staff of The Civil and Military
Gazette, published at Lahore, and in his early twenties
edited The Pioneer at Allahabad. In his capacity as a
journalist, and for his own purposes, he travelled extensively
throughout India. On those journeys he acquired a thorough
insight into Hindu conceptions and sentiments and became
intimately acquainted with the different Hindu groups, with their
varying customs and institutions, and with the special features
of English military life in India. This firm grasp of the true
inwardness of all things Indian is abundantly reflected in
Kipling's writings, so much so that it has even been said that
they have brought India nearer home to the English nation than
has the construction of the Suez Canal. Of his early works the
satirical Departmental Ditties (1886) attracted notice by
the audacity of the allusions it contained, and by the
originality of its tone. Also among the early productions are
Plain Tales from the Hills (1888) and Soldiers
Three (1888), collections of stories famous among other
things for the three lovingly drawn soldier types: Mulvaney,
Ortheris, and Learoyd. Other works in the same category are, for
instance, The Story of the Gadsbys (1888), In Black and
White (1888), and Under the Deodars (1889), all of
which are concerned with society life in Simla. The series
entitled Life's Handicap, embracing some stories of serious
import, appeared in 1891. The same year saw the publication of
The Light that Failed, a novel somewhat harsh in style but
containing some strongly coloured descriptive passages of
excellent effect.
As a poet Kipling was already full-fledged at the appearance of
Barrack Room Ballads (1892), magnificent soldier-songs
brimming over with virile humour and depicting realistically
Tommy Atkins in all his phases, valiantly marching onward to
encounter dangers and misery wherever it pleases «the Widow
of Windsor», or her successor on the throne, to dispatch
him. In Kipling the British Army has found a minstrel to
interpret in a new, original, and tragicomical manner the toils
and deprivations through which it has to pass, and to depict its
life and work with abundant acknowledgment of the great qualities
it displays, but without the least trace of meretricious
embellishment. In his verses descriptive of soldiers and sailors
he so happily expresses their own thoughts, often in the very
language they themselves employ, that they appreciate him deeply
and, as we are told, sing his song whenever they have a pause in
the day's occupations. Surely, there is hardly any greater mark
of honour that can be given to a poet than to be beloved by the
lower orders.
In the cycle entitled The Seven Seas (1896) Kipling
reveals himself as an imperialist, a citizen of a world-wide
empire. He has undoubtedly done more than any other writer of
pure literature to draw tighter the bonds of union between
England and her colonies.
In Sweden, as elsewhere, «the jungle books» by Kipling,
the first of which appeared in 1894, are much admired and
beloved. A primordial type of imaginative power inspired the
creator of these mythlike tales of the animals in whose midst
Mowgli waxed in strength: Bagheera the Black Panther, Baloo the
Bear, Kaa the cunning and mighty Rock-Python, Nag the White
Cobra, and the chattering, foolish Monkeys. Some of the scenes
are simply sublime; for instance, the one where Mowgli is resting
in «the living armchair» Kaa, while the latter, who has
witnessed so many generations of trees and animals, dreams of
bygone ages; or again when Mowgli causes Hathi the Elephant to
«let in the jungle» to take over the fields of men.
These descriptions display an instinctive feeling for a poetry of
nature which is quite phenomenal, and Kipling is far more in his
true element in the primeval grandeur of these jungle stories
than, for instance, in «The Ship that Found Herself»
(in The Day's Work, 1898), an interesting though eccentric
personification of mechanical inventions. The Jungle Book
tales have made Kipling a favourite author among children in many
countries. Adults share the delight experienced by the young and
relive their childhood while perusing these marvellously
delightful, wonderfully imaginative fables of animals.
Among the large number of Kipling's creations, Kim (1901)
deserves special notice, for in the delineation of the Buddhist
priest, who goes on a pilgrimage along the banks of the stream
that purifies from sin, there is an elevated diction as well as a
tenderness and charm which are otherwise unusual traits in this
dashing writer's style. There is, too, in the figure of the
little rascal Kim, the priest's chela, a thorough type of
good-humoured roguishness.
The accusation has occasionally been made against Kipling that
his language is at times somewhat coarse and that his use of
soldier's slang in some of the broadest of his songs and ballads
verges on the vulgar. Though there may be some truth in such
remarks, their importance is offset by the invigorating
directness and ethical stimulus of Kipling's style. He has won
immense popularity, not only in the Anglo-Indian world, which
possesses in him a great literary master, but also far beyond the
limits of the vast British Empire. During his serious illness in
America in 1899, the American newspapers issued daily bulletins
regarding his condition, and the German Emperor dispatched a
telegram to his wife to express his earnest sympathy.
What is then the cause of this world-wide popularity that Kipling
enjoys? Or, rather: In what way has Kipling shown himself to
deserve it? How is it, too, that he has been deemed worthy of the
Nobel Prize in Literature, for which a writer must especially
show an idealism in his conceptions and in his art? The answer
follows:
Kipling may not be eminent essentially for the profundity of his
thought or for the surpassing wisdom of his meditations. Yet even
the most cursory observer sees immediately his absolutely unique
power of observation, capable of reproducing with astounding
accuracy the minutest detail from real life. However, the gift of
observation alone, be it ever so closely true to nature, would
not suffice as a qualification in this instance. There is
something else by which his poetical gifts are revealed. His
marvellous power of imagination enables him to give us not only
copies from nature but also visions out of his own inner
consciousness. His landscapes appear to the inner vision as
sudden apparitions do to the eye. In sketching a personality he
makes clear, almost in his first words, the peculiar traits of
that person's character and temper. Creativeness which does not
rest content with merely photographing the temporary phases of
things but desires to penetrate to their inmost kernel and soul,
is the basis of his literary activity, as Kipling himself says:
«He draws the thing as he sees it for the God of things as
they are.» In these weighty words lies a real appreciation
of the poet's responsibility in the exercise of his
calling.
Rudyard Kipling's manly, at times brusque, energy does not
preclude tenderness and delicacy of touch, though these qualities
never clamour affectedly for recognition in his works. The simple
«Story of Muhammad Din» is imbued with the poetry of
genuine heartfelt emotion, and who can ever forget the little
drummer boys in «The Taking of Lungtumpen» (in Plain
Tales)?
In the innermost being of this indefatigable observer of life and
human nature vibrate strings attuned to a lofty note. His poem
«To the True Romance» reveals that yearning for a
patiently sought, never to be attained ideal that resides in
living form in the breast of every true poet, from where the
scenes and impressions of the sensuous world can never dislodge
it:
Enough for me in dreams to see
And touch thy garment's hem:
Thy feet have trod so near to God
I may not follow them!
This writer's philosophy of life is diffused with a piety characteristic of the Old Testament, or rather perhaps of Puritan times, wholly devoid of pretentiousness or wordiness, based upon a conviction that «the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom» and that there exists a
God of our fathers, known of old,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion...
If Kipling is an idealist from an aesthetic point of view by reason of poetical intuition, he is so, too, from an ethical-religious standpoint by virtue of his sense of duty, which has its inspiration in a faith firmly rooted in conviction. He is acutely conscious of the truth that even the mightiest states would perish unless they rested upon the sure foundation in the citizens' hearts of a loyal observance of the law and a reasoned self-restraint. For Kipling, God is first and foremost Almighty Providence, termed in Life's Handicap a «Greet Overseer». The English as a nation can well appreciate these conceptions, and Kipling has become the nation's poet, owing not only to his numerous highly prized soldier-songs, but perhaps quite as much to the brief lines of the hymn («Recessional») which he composed on the occasion of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee in 1897. Especially striking are these words expressing genuine and humble religious feelings:
The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
The recessional hymn voices the spirit of
national pride, yet it also conveys a warning against the dangers
of presumptuous pride...
Quite naturally, during the Boer War Kipling sided with his own
nation, the English. He has, however, done full justice to the
heroic courage of he Boers, for his imperialism is not of the
uncompromising type that pays no regard to the sentiments of
others.
Many and varied are the movements that have had their vogue in
English literature, a literature unparalleled for wealth of
output and adorned to surpass all others by the immortal figure
of Shakespeare. In Kipling may be traced perhaps more of Swift
and Defoe than of Spenser, Keats, Shelley, or Tennyson. Clearly,
however, imagination is as strong in him as empirical
observation. Though he does not possess the refined and
sensuously beautiful style of Swinburne, yet he escapes, on the
other hand, all tendency toward a pagan worship of pleasure for
pleasure's sake. He avoids all morbid sentimentality in matter
and Alexandrian superflorescence in form.
Kipling favours concreteness and concentration; empty
abstractions and circumlocutionary descriptions are wholly absent
from his works. He has a knack for finding the telling phrase,
the characteristic epithet, with swift accuracy and certainty. He
has been compared now to Bret Harte, now to Pierre Loti, now to
Dickens; he is, however, always original, and it would seem that
his powers of invention are inexhaustible. Nevertheless, the
apostle of the imagination is likewise, as stated above, the
standard-bearer of law-abidingness and discipline. The Laws of
the Jungle are the Laws of the Universe; if we ask what their
chief purport is, we shall receive the brief answer:
«Struggle, Duty, Obedience». Kipling thus advocates
courage, self-sacrifice, and loyalty; unmanliness and lack of
self-discipline are abominations to him, and in the world order
he perceives a nemesis before which presumption is constrained to
surrender.
If Kipling is quite independent as a writer, it does not follow
that he has learned nothing from others; even the greatest
masters have done so. With Bret Harte, Kipling shares his
appreciation of the picturesqueness of vagabond life, and with
Defoe his accuracy in depicting every detail and his sense of the
values of exactness in the use of terms and phrases. Like Dickens
he feels a keen sympathy with those of low degree in the
community, and like him he can perceive the humour in trifling
traits and acts. But his style is distinctively original and
personal. It accomplishes its ends by suggestion rather than by
description. It is not quite uniformly brilliant but it is always
eminently expressive and picturesque. The series From Sea to
Sea (1899) is a veritable model of graphic description,
whether the scene is laid in the Elephant City governed by the
Grand Divinity of Laziness, in Palm Island, or in Singapore, or
whether the story deals with manners and customs of Japan.
Kipling has at his command a large fund of irony - sometimes
highly pungent - but he has abundant resources of sympathy, too,
sympathy for the most part extended to those soldiers and sailors
who have upheld the honour of England in far-distant lands. He
has every right and reason to tell them: «I have eaten your
bread and your salt, I have drunk your water and wine, I have
lived your life, I have watched o'er your beds of
death.»
He attained fame and success as a very young man, but he has
continued to develop ever since. One of his biographers has
stated that there are three «notes» to be traced in his
authorship. The satirical note is found in Departmental
Ditties, Plain Tales from the Hills, The Story of
the Gadsbys, with its amusing commendation of single
blessedness, and in the much-debated novel, The Light that
Failed. The second, the note of sympathy and human kindness,
is most clearly marked in «The Story of Muhammad Din»
and in «Without Benefit of Clergy» (in Life's
Handicap), a gem of heartfelt emotion. The third, the ethical
note, is clearly traceable in Life's Handicap. Whether
there be much value or not in this classification which, as is
usually the case in such matters, cannot be consistently applied
to the whole of his production, one thing is certain: Kipling has
written and sung of faithful labour, fulfilment of duty, and love
of one's country. Love of one's country with Kipling does not
mean solely devotion to the island kingdom of England, but rather
an enthusiastic affection for the British Empire. The closer
uniting of that Empire's separate members is a long and fervently
cherished aspiration of the poet's. That is surely clear from his
exclamation: «What should they know of England who only
England know?»
Kipling has given us descriptions in vivid colours of many
different countries. But the picturesque surface of things has
not been the principal matter with him; he has always, in all
places, had a manly ideal before him: ever to be «ready, ay
ready at the call of duty» and then, when the appointed time
comes, to «go to God like a soldier».
The Swedish Academy, in awarding the Nobel Prize in Literature
this year to Rudyard Kipling, desires to pay a tribute of homage
to the literature of England, so rich in manifold glories, and to
the greatest genius in the realm of narrative that that country
has produced in our times.
There was no banquet because of the death of King Oscar II of Sweden on December 8, 1907.
From Nobel Lectures, Literature 1901-1967, Editor Horst Frenz, Elsevier Publishing Company, Amsterdam, 1969
Copyright © The Nobel Foundation 1907