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Repo-Men ή οι Δωσίλογοι (I)

25 Ιαν.

A gloss which recuperates Kipling’s intended meanings in ontological terms could appear calculated to drain the writings of historical specificity; […] it attests to the authenticity of [Kipling’s] ‘portraits’ […] through extrapolating the ‘historical realities’ from the do-it-yourself hagiography of the Raj, among which [his] fabrications were pre-eminent. The outcome is a criticism which projects the authorized representations [of the ‘master culture’] as truths.

BENITA PARRY1

[In Kim, the ‘terror’ of the] colonial encounter becomes domesticated into the familiarity of every day facticity. […] ‘Imperial time’ [is thereby rendered as a ‘wistful’] montage of autonomous moments […] engender[ing] a discourse that lacks any direction in which to go.

SARA SULERI2

I. The two epigraphs placed at head of this note are intended to suggest the bewildering array of conflicting responses occasioned by Kipling’s novel Kim (1901),3 ranging from readings which express undiminished admiration, if not for the uncharacteristically ‘unpolitical’ treatment of the narrative subject-matter, at least for the novel’s ‘aesthetic merit’ or for a (purportedly) genuine attempt on Kipling’s part to negotiate the colonial divide and portray Indian culture(s) and ‘spirituality’ in a sympathetic light, to more sceptical accounts which foreground the text’s socio-political context so as to diagnose the author’s continuing concern with the security and survival of the Empire.4 Indeed, if one accepts Ann Parry’s argument regarding the ‘time-location’ of the narrated events as roughly contemporaneous with that of the novel’s composition (1894–1900),5 a period which saw a series of colonial campaigns culminating in the BoerWar (1899–1902) and was also marked by strained diplomatic relations with Britain’s old and new imperial rivals,6 those readings which dwell on the text’s affirmation of a ‘world of infinite concrete potentiality’7—its endorsement of ‘a new vision, […] more inclusive, humanized and mature than that of any other [of Kipling’s] works’8—appear less convincing.

Further, while reference to the novel ’s multiple thematic and formal contradictions and its complex inscriptions of colonial anxiety and ambivalence, especially as regards the identity and ‘fate’ of its central character, has by now become a critical common-place,9 commentators have also tended, not surprisingly, to produce widely divergent interpretations of the specific function allotted by the author/text to the adolescent hero’s cultural hybridity.10 Thus, for instance, both Abdul JanMohamed and Zohreh Sullivan, following Homi Bhabha’s lead, contend that inscriptions of ‘cultural liminality’, in Kim in particular and in Kipling’s narratives in general, emerge as the after-effects of the ‘contradictory movements’ of colonial desire/fantasy: the tug-of-war between ‘the desire for a union between the rulers and the ruled’—or, in JanMohamed’s terms, their desire for ‘mutual adoption”—and ‘the need to master and control’ ‘the new-caught, sullen peoples’.11 Although I concur with the authors’ assessement that such internally contradictory fantasies were constantly subject to unsustainable pressures,12 nonetheless, I am also inclined to agree with Benita Parry’s apposite suggestion that postcolonial readings which are indebted to Bhabha’s theorization of ‘colonial ambivalence’ and attempt to trace moments of ‘discursive instability’ across the surface of the colonial text, tend to carry the implication that such ‘enunciatory splittings’13 did not simply ‘register’ perceptions of vulnerability and ‘colonialist unease’, but, in fact, ‘acted to inhibit’ colonialism’s totalizing will to power/knowledge.14 In other words, such accounts appear to hold unquestioningly or, conversely, work hard to establish on the evidence of ‘literary forms of colonial discourse’ that British rule in India was hegemonic15 rather than autocratic in character. A more elaborate presentation of this argument, which raises fundamental questions about the choice of historiographic-interpretive paradigm16 and, more generally, the function of postcolonial criticism at the present time, lies beyond the scope of this note.

In what follows, I shall offer instead a reading of the novel informed by Kaori Nagai’s insightful remark, made in a slightly different context, that, to a great extent, Kipling’s literary efforts ought to be seen as so many strategic attempts on his part to project a vision of ‘transcolonial imperial loyalty [as a guarantee] against the potential danger of transcolonial resistance’.17 I find it very difficult indeed to give even a qualified assent to the widely held opinion that it is possible to dissociate Kipling’s text(s) from ‘Kipling the political man’18 and that this particular ‘leisurely Asiatic yarn’19 grapples in earnest with the articulation of ‘liminal’ spaces/subjectivities, thereby affirming the potential for a re-inscription of habitual hierarchies of colonial authority and the productive imbrication of insular cultural identifications.20 If this text is to be interpreted as an intervention in an allegedly monologic21 discourse of empire, it would be more fruitful to inquire into Kim’s antecedents in Kipling’s Indian tales and into the manner in which this imperial fabulist staged the threat posed to British dominance by imperial rivals and networks of anti-colonial resistance; rather than allow ourselves to be distracted by Kim’s protean, but ultimately hollowed-out selfhood. Indeed, that the name ‘Kim’ functions in the text as the absent locum tenens of ‘alterity’, a generic surrogate for cultural difference, has been argued, for instance, by Wegner who glosses Mahbub Ali’s friendly hint ‘[A]mong the folk of Hind always [remember] thou art—’ (Kim, Ch.VIII, p.191) with the remark: ‘The dash at the end of the sentence marks the absent place of Kim’s identity’22. Although this exchange between Mahbub Ali and Kim is approached from a different angle by John McBratney, who argues that the novel exhibits a certain receptivity to what James Clifford termed the ‘advent’, at the turn of the century, of the ‘ethnographic’, i.e. when constructionist definitions of racial identity’ were beginning to displace ‘the essentialist logic’ of earlier racial classifications; 23 nevertheless, the text does not allow us to forget the ubiquity of Creighton’s network of ethnographers doubling as spies24 and that Kim’s apprenticement in the art of ‘self-fashioning’/mimicry, deception and self-deception25—in ‘how such and such a caste talked, or walked, or coughed, or spat, or sneezed’, etc.—,26 would only result in his transformation into an ‘assimilating’ vector of cultural otherness—designated in ‘one of the locked books of the Survey Department’ by ‘a letter and a number’ (Kim, Ch.I, p.69, Ch.IX, 207, 209). 27

While A.Michael Matin’s argument that the novel closely follows the conventions of ‘invasion-scare narratives’ goes some way toward explaining the summoning up of ethnically distinct (male) imperial subjects (Mahratta,28 Bengali, Pathan,29 Turkish30 and Irish), ready to fly to the succour of their colonizers—an expedient with which the renegade within and the potential enemy without are both ‘rendered disciplined, tractable and serviceable for the Empire’;31 however, pace Kaori Nagai, it is more worthy of notice that, in Kipling’s idiolect of ‘sedition’, the appellation ‘Irish’ is often metonymically applied to the spectral menace posed by transnational conspiratorial associations.32 For instance, ‘Namgay Doola’ (1891),33 a rather curious tale of ‘miscegenation’, is also concerned with ‘the establishment of the pedigree’34 of a racially ambiguous character and rehearses in truncated form the ‘taming’ of Kipling’s later Bildungsroman-hero. In a ‘fine’ piece of detective work, the narrator follows up a trail of clues to reveal the eponymous ‘rebel”s racial identity: he is a half-caste, born to an Irish soldier and a hill-woman, who has been thoroughly assimilated by his native land. As the story unfolds, we learn that Namgay is a valued but wilful labourer, has parented ‘a poisonous spawn of babes’, raised the ‘cry of “No Rent”’35 in the diminutive Himalayan tributary kingdom, where the story is set,36 and, the last clue, he and his family ‘croon’ at sunset a black-mass version of the Angelus, which is in fact a creolized version of ‘The Wearing of the Green’.37 The narrator’s advice to his host, the King, which concludes the relentless barrage of Irish stereotypes, is: ‘[R]aise him to honour in thy Army.38 […] Feed him with words and liquor and he will be a bulwark of defence. But deny him even a tuft of grass for his own. This is the nature […] of that breed’ (Namgay Doola, 334-35). In my view, these elements in the story make intelligible the cryptic hint contained in the pseudonymous verse which serves as the epigraph to the seventh chapter of the novel39 and insinuates the nature of Kim’s forefathers’ sin—viz. ‘rebellion like unto the sin of witchcraft’—,40 to be washed away by catechism on ‘the art of mensuration’ (the Great Game). 41 Further, the episode in the same chapter, when Creighton recounts a make-believe mission and tests Kim’s probity by presenting him with a rupee in exchange for information, echoes the attempt by the narrator of the short story to bribe Namgay’s son into handing over his father’s gun. But whereas Kim refuses the money and thus demonstrates his suitability for imperial service, the short story’s narrator obtains the gun and single-handedly subdues the ‘Irish’ rebellion. (Kim, Ch.VII, pp.166-67; Namgay Doola, p.333). ‘Irish’ waywardness (‘every unknown Irish devil in [their] blood’ [Kim, XIII, p.211]) is, thus, ‘contained’ by narrative means, and, whether depicted as ‘subordinate’ or ‘suborned’,42 the ‘Irish’ in Kipling’s Anglo-Indian texts43 are ineluctably incorporated as ‘loyal subjects’ into the imperial structure.44 As Tim Watson observes, ‘by collapsing the figures of the rebel and [the loyal imperial subject] into the hybrid Irish, […] who are called to defend the Empire at the same time as they challenge its integrity’, Kipling ‘finesses certain of the problems facing [the imperial order] at the turn of the century: the emergence of a western-educated Indian elite with nationalist tendencies’, seeking an equal share in the administration of the Raj,45 Irish demands for Home Rule, as well as the threat posed by European and Transatlantic imperial competition.46

In this brief note, I have attempted to decipher the strategic/ideological function assigned by Kipling’s ‘ethnographic’ narrative to its hero’s protean selfhood. I have taken care, to the extent possible, to place the text in its historical context and to establish, to a limited extent, parallels between the novel and Kipling’s earlier Anglo-Indian narratives. I have also attempted to enter into critical dialogue with readings that investigate the possibility that the novel’s ethnographic/multicultural sensibility may not necessarily be ‘antagonistic’ to the predominant concerns of postcolonial criticism.47 I would like to conclude by restating, in a slightly altered form, Ann Parry’s remark that the novel by simultaneously registering and strategically negating anti-imperialist resistance, ‘falsifies indeed the historical actuality by representing India as a place that rejoices in its cosmopolitanism’.48


Notes (I)

1. Benita Parry, Postcolonial Studies: A Materialist Critique (London: Routledge, 2004), p. 121 (my emphasis).

2. A composite quotation from Sara Suleri, The Rhetoric of English India (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), pp. 112-14.

3. Rudyard Kipling, Kim, ed. by Edward W. Said (London: Penguin Books, 1987). All further references to this edition will be made parenthetically in the text.

4. For critical overview of early readings of the novel, see Benita Parry, esp. pp.119–21, 124; and Ann Parry, ‘I am still a Sahib; Historical Perspective in Kipling’s Kim’, Kipling Journal, 69:274 (1995), 11–23 (esp. pp.12-13, 21).— The phrase ‘aesthetic merit’ occurs in Edward W. Said, ‘Introduction’, in Kim, (London: Penguin Books, 1987), pp. 7–46 (p. 30); the characterization of the novel as ‘unpolitical’ is Kinkead-Weekes’s (qtd in Ann Parry, ‘I am still a Sahib’, p. 12); for readings that focus on the ‘spiritual dimension’ of the text, see, e.g., Nirad C. Chaudhuri, ‘The Finest Story about India’, Encounter, 8, 47–53, and K. Bhaskara Rao, Rudyard Kipling’s India (Norman: University Of Oklahoma Press, 1967), Ch. VI.

5. For the insertion of passages from ‘Mother Maturin’ (1885), Kipling’s lost novel, into the draft of Kim, see Margaret Peller Feeley, ‘The Kim that Nobody Reads’, Studies in the Novel, 13:3 (1981), 266–81. Judging from the summary of Kipling’s unpublished film script titled ‘A Gate of the Hundred Sorrows’, as appears in Green and Mason, The Reader’s Guide to Rudyard Kipling’s Work, Vol. 1, ed. by Roger Lancelyn Green and Alec Mason (Canterbury: Gibbs & Sons, 1961), pp. 110-12—a screenplay which apparently ‘incorporated episodes from the old story’ (Charles Carrington, Rudyard Kipling: His Life and Work (London: Macmillan, 1955), p. 359)—, the plot of the earlier novel seems to be unrelated to Kim; however, in a letter to Edmonia Hill (8 April 1902), Kipling writes that he ‘is not sure if ever I continue [Kim’s] adventures that I shan’t introduce [the Irish woman] herself’ (The Letters of Rudyard Kipling, vol. 3, p.87).

6. Ann Parry, ‘Recovering the Connection Between Kim and Contemporary History’, in Kim: Authoritative Text, Backgrounds, Criticism, ed. by Zohreh T. Sullivan (New York: Norton, 2002), pp. 309–20 (esp. pp.310–11, 314).

There is some disagreement among critics on this point. Thus, for instance, Said and Moore- Gilbert, following Mason’s argument, accept that the beginning of the narrative can be dated with reference to the fight at Pirzai Kotal ‘at about the turn of the years 1877-1878’ (Green and Mason, pp. 119, 151; Bart Moore-Gilbert, “‘The Bhabhal of Tongues”: Reading Kipling, Reading Bhabha’, in Writing India, 1757-1990: The Literature of British India, ed. by Bart Moore-Gilbert (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996), pp. 111–38 (pp. 136 (n.16)); Kim, Ch.II, pp.77, 346 (n.9)). However, the old Ressaldar, a veteran of the ‘Mutiny’, whom Kim and Teshoo Lama meet during their wanderings, mentions Queen Victoria’s first Jubilee (1887) as having occurred in the past (Kim, p.101; cf. Ann Parry, ‘Recovering the Connection’, p.310); moreover, during the 1890s, there was continued disaffection among the Afridi and other frontier tribes, which occasioned a series of campaigns, for instance, the Tirah expedition of 1897-1898 (Byron Farwell, Queen Victoria’s Little Wars (Allen Lane: London, 1973), Chs 27-28). For other internal evidence in support of the chronology proposed by Ann Parry, see also her article ‘I am still a Sahib’ (esp. pp.17-18).

7. Abdul R. JanMohamed, ‘The Economy of Manichean Allegory: The Function of Racial Difference in Colonialist Literature’, Critical Inquiry, 12:1 (1985), 59–87 (p. 78); cf., however, S.P. Mohanty, ‘Kipling’s Children and the Colour Line’, Race and Class, 31:1 (1989), 21–40 (p. 23) et seq. and 20 infra.

8. Mark Kinkead-Weekes, ‘The Ending of Kim’, in Kim: Authoritative Text, Backgrounds, Criticism, ed. by Zohreh T. Sullivan (New York: Norton, 2002), pp. 436–41 (p. 441).

9. See, e.g., Moore-Gilbert, ‘The Bhabhal of Tongues’; and Zohreh T. Sullivan, Narratives of Empire: The Fictions of Rudyard Kipling (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), pp. 2,11, 168, etc.— In particular, Sullivan detects such ambivalences in the ‘splittings’ of the novel’s narratorial persona (e.g., shifts in the narrative perspective between Ch.IV and Ch.V of the novel, where the oscillation between the ‘character’ and ‘reflector’ narrator becomes apparent (ibid. pp.163-64; cf. ibid. 155¶2).

Moore-Gilbert’s arguments in favour of the thesis that ‘Kipling’s Kim has anticipated Bhabha/postcolonial narrative” (Moore-Gilbert, ‘The Bhabhal of Tongues’, pp.130¶2, 131¶2) are found in ibid. p.127 (Kipling’s ‘experimentation with non-Standard English’); 128¶3-129¶¶1-2 (mixing of genres, i.e. ‘eastern religious epic/spy thriller’); and, 129¶3-130¶1 (‘contradictory pronominal positions’, a restatement of Bhabha’s thesis regarding the ‘splitting of the [colonial] subject of enunciation’ (see, e.g. Homi Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994)77¶2, 80¶4, and Ch.7); and discussion infra).

10. See, e.g., Don Randall, ‘Ethnography and the Hybrid Boy in Rudyard Kipling’s “Kim”’, Ariel, 27:3 (1996), 79–104; John McBratney, ‘Passing and the Modern Persona in Kipling’s Ethnographer Fiction’, Victorian Literature and Culture, 24 (1996), 31–50 (n.23 infra); and Moore-Gilbert, ‘The Bhabhal of Tongues’, p.125 et seq.

11. Sullivan, pp. 11, 13-14, 178-80; JanMohamed, pp. 79–80; the last quoted phrase is from ‘The White Man’s Burden’, in Rudyard Kipling, Rudyard Kipling’s Verse. 1885–1918 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1919), p.371.

—Consider, e.g., the episode in the last chapter of the novel when Kim, having frustrated the Russian plot and thus acquitted himself of his imperial duties, is entrusted to the maternal care of the Kulu woman and is thereby restored to health (Kim, Ch.XV); for a more detailed analysis, see Suvir Kaul, ‘Kim, or How to Be Young, Male, and British in Kipling’s India’, in Kim: Authoritative Text, Backgrounds, Criticism, ed. by Zohreh T. Sullivan (New York: Norton, 2002), pp. 426–36 (pp. 433- 34).

12. Moreover, they were also contested by the colonized people’s emancipatory projects and aspirations (see, e.g., M. Silvestri, ‘“The Sinn Féin of India”: Irish Nationalism and the Policing of Revolutionary Terrorism in Bengal’, Journal of British Studies, 39:4 (2000), 454–86).

13. The phrase occurs in Bhabha, p.138.

14. This paragraph is indebted to Benita Parry’s critical assessment of Bhabha’s work (Parry, Ch.4 (direct quotations are from ibid. pp.60-61, ); cf. Sullivan, p. 9, for a variance of this topos.

15. For instance, Moore-Gilbert seems to arrives at such a conclusion on the basis of Kipling’s portrayal of Hurree Chunder as an ‘efficient’ collaborator ‘in the management of the empire’. (Moore- Gilbert, ‘The Bhabhal of Tongues’, pp. 124-25; cf. ibid. p.132¶2).

16. As Benita Parry also argues, Ranajit Guha, the subaltern historian, contests the assumption that the British regime in India can be seen as a form of hegemony, which would imply that ‘the moment of consent outweighed that of coercion’ (Ranajit Guha, Dominance without Hegemony: History and Power in Colonial India (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997), p. xii; cf. Parry, p. 68).

17. Kaori Nagai, Empire of Analogies: Kipling, India and Ireland (Cork, Ireland: Cork University Press, 2007), p. 67.

18. See, e.g., Chaudhuri, p. 48.

19. Kipling to Charles Eliot Norton, 15 January 1900, in The Letters of Rudyard Kipling, vol. 3, p.11.

20. G. Prakash, ‘Science “Gone Native” in Colonial India’, Representations, 40 (1992), 153–78 (p. 154); see, also, preceding paragraph in the main text and n.15 supra.

21. Cf. Moore-Gilbert, ‘The Bhabhal of Tongues’, p. 133, where, by arguing that ‘colonial power was never […] unified at the point of enunciation, [rather] there were competing definitions of imperialism on the colonizer’s side’, he conveniently sets up a straw man (see, e.g., Thomas R. Metcalf, Ideologies of the Raj, The New Cambridge History of India: III.4 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), p. Ch.1).

22. Phillip E.Wegner, ‘“Life as HeWould Have It”: The Invention of India in Kipling’s Kim’, Cultural Critique, 26 (1993), 129–59 (p. 148)

23. McBratney, pp. 32-33.— Nonetheless, his article concludes that, in Kipling’s narratives, which construct vigilantly guarded spaces of ‘ethnic performance’, only Anglo-Indians are allowed to ‘pass safely as natives’. In contrast, Indians possess no ‘right to ethnic self-fashioning’ (ibid. 41-45; for Hurree Chunder being a possible exception, see ibid. 47-48 n.20, and esp. Randall, p. 98; see, also, McBratney, p. 47, n.17 on the stereotype of the ‘stage Irishman’; and, cf. Nagai, p. 83 on its implications: ‘the Irish talent [for play-acting] should never be used to represent themselves in the political arena; [they have to conform to] their stereotype.

24. ‘The Great Game […] runs like a shuttle throughout all Hind’ (Kim, Ch.XII, 273). For the survey of Tibet in 1860-1870 by a network ‘secret service Pundits’ (i.e. Indians disguised as monks) see, Thomas Richards, ‘Archive and Utopia’, Representations, 37 (1992), 104–35, pp.109-10; Andre Viola, ‘Empire of the Senses or a Sense of Empire? The Imaginary and the Symbolic in Kipling’s “Kim”’, Ariel, 28:2 (1997), 159–72, p.163; Sarat Chandra Das, part of the network, is believed to be Hurree’s real-life prototype (McBratney, p. 47).

25. Thus, for instance, Sullivan argues that, following the deception practiced by Kim on the Lama (Kim, Ch.XII, 274; cf. Parry, ‘Recovering the Connection’, p.319), Kim’s ‘repeated declarations of love [serve in the text] as an excuse to transcend personal betrayals’ (Sullivan, p. 173; Kim, Ch.XIV, 310, 320 (‘we/I love[d] thee’)).

26. According to Suleri, such ‘ethnographic’ knowledge which essentially consists of ‘bureaucratically useful facts’ is wholly unfitted for the purposes of ‘dialogic’ cultural readings (Suleri, pp.122¶2, 127¶5, 128). It is this insight, I believe, that subtends her statement that ‘Kim is an imperial casualty of more tragic proportions than he is usually granted’. (ibid. 116) (see, also, ibid. 127: ‘As Kim is inexorably reduced to the sum of his utility, his power as a cultural reader is simultaneously curtailed’; and second epigraph supra))

27. Richards, p.114; Nagai101.

28. E.23, whom Kim disguises as a saddhu in Ch. XI (Kim p.246 et seq.); cf., however, Green and Mason, p. 218.

29. Hurree Chunder Mookerjee’s code name is R.17 (Kim, Ch.IX, p.210; there is some disagreement among critics on this point (cf., e.g., Ian Baucom, ‘The Survey of India’, in Kim: Authoritative Text, Backgrounds, Criticism, ed. by Zohreh T. Sullivan (New York: Norton, 2002), pp. 351–58 (p. 353)) ); Mahbub Ali is ‘registered as C.25.1B’ (Kim, Ch.I, p.69).

30. Kipling based the character of Lurgan Sahib on that of Alexander M. Jacob, ‘a wealthy dealer in gems of Turkish extraction’ (Green and Mason, p. 202; cf. ‘[Lurgan’s] accent showed that he was anything but a Sahib.’ (Kim, Ch.IX, p.199); see also Bart Moore-Gilbert, Kipling and ‘Orientalism’ (London: Croom Helm, 1986), pp. 10, 24 on F.M. Crawford’s Mr Isaacs (1882), also based on the same real-life prototype).

31. A. Michael Matin, ‘“The Hun Is at the Gate!”: Historicizing Kipling’s Militaristic Rhetoric, from the Imperial Periphery to the National Center. Part One: The Russia Threat to British India’, Studies in the Novel, 31:3 (1999), 317–56 (p. 340).—Portions of this text are reproduced in the Norton edition of Kim (Rudyard Kipling, Kim: Authoritative Text, Backgrounds, Criticism, ed. by Zohreh T. Sullivan (London: Norton, 2002), pp. 358–374); in this latter version, there is, however, a curious hiatus precisely at the point where the passage quoted above occurs (ibid. p.365). In the Norton edition, the text goes on to discuss the ideology behind the notion of the ‘Imperial federation’, whereas the original refers to Kipling’s repudiation of Irish demands for Home Rule.

32. Nagai, p. 20¶3.

33. Rudyard Kipling, ‘Namgay Doola’, in Life’s Handicap, (London: Macmillan, 1897), pp. 267–89.

34. Cf. Nagai, pp. 27, 106—It should be noted that although Kipling takes pains to establish the novel’s hero ‘whiteness, (Kim, Ch.I, p.49; Ch.V, pp.133, 135 (birth certificate, ‘ne varietur parchment’, etc.); Ch.III, p.94, Ch.X, p.227 (‘white blood’)), Kim, being Irish, remains a racially ambiguous character (cf. Luke Gibbons’s discussion on how the ‘epidermal schema’ of colonial discourse, which posits the existence of visible signs of racial difference,was adapted to suit the case of the Irish (both ‘white’ and ‘native’) (Luke Gibbons, ‘Race Against Time: Racial Discourse and Irish History’, Oxford Literary Review, 13:1-2 (1991), 95–117; quoted phrases appear on pp.95–96, 112)).

35. The phrase is from the Bengalee, 3 May 1884, in reference to agrarian disturbances in Ireland (qtd in Howard Brasted, ‘Indian Nationalist Development and the Influence of Irish Home Rule, 1870- 1886’, Modern Asian Studies, 14:1 (1980), 37–63 (p. 59)) ; it does not appear in Kipling’s short story.

36. Kipling, ‘Namgay Doola’, pp. 325–26; 329 (refusal to ‘pay revenue’ and administration of unlawful oaths).

37. Ibid., pp. 332–33.—This is the proscribed Irish nationalist song. In Kipling’s text, ‘Dir hané mard-iyemen dir | To weeree ala gee’ is translated as ‘They’re hanging men and women too, | For the wearing of the green’ (see, also, Tim Watson, ‘Indian and Irish Unrest in Kipling’s Kim’, in Postcolonial Theory and Criticism, ed. by Laura Chrisman and Benita Parry (Woodbridge: Brewer, 2000), pp. 95– 113 (pp. 110-11)).

38. For the ‘martial race’ stereotype applied to Irish recruits in the British army, see Peter Karsten, ‘Irish Soldiers in the British Army, 1792-1922: Suborned or Subordinate?’, Journal of Social History, 17:1 (1983), 31–64 (pp. 38–41); The author notes that ‘[o]f the Europeans in the East India Company’s Bengal Army of the mid-nineteenth century fully half were Irish’ and that ‘despite the efforts of United Irishmen, Fenians, or Sinn Féiners, [the Irish soldier] was faithful to his oath’, (ibid. pp.41, 57 n.24).—There were, however, two notable exceptions: the Fenian infiltration of several regiments in Ireland in 1864-1867 and the Connaught Rangers mutiny in India in 1920 (ibid. pp.45-46, 49–51). Kipling’s ‘The Mutiny of the Mavericks’ is based on the first incident (Ibid., p.61 n.63; and Watson, pp. 107-09; Rudyard Kipling, ‘The Mutiny of the Mavericks’, in Life’s Handicap, (London: Macmillan, 1897), pp. 322–35).

39. ‘Heir to these tumults, this affright, that fraye | (By Adam’s fathers’ own sin bound alway); Peer up [and] say | Which planet mends thy threadbare fate or mars!’ (Kim, Ch.VII, p.163.)

40. Kipling, ‘Namgay Doola’, p. 327 (1 Samuel, 15:23); see Nagai, pp. 87-89.*

41. Kim, Ch.IX, p.211; see n.24 supra.

42. The reference is to the titte of Peter Karsten’s article cited in n.38 supra.

43. ‘The Mutiny of the Mavericks’ (1891) uses the same stratagem, but the anti-imperialist conspiracy is relocated in the Punjab (see, e.g., Watson, pp. 108-09; Nagai, pp. 21-22).

44. Ibid., pp. 10, 90.

45. See, for instance, Metcalf, p. 190 and Blair B. Kling, ‘Kim in Historical Context’, in Kim: Authoritative Text, Backgrounds, Criticism, ed. by Zohreh T. Sullivan (New York: Norton, 2002), pp. 297–309 (pp. 300-01), with regard to Ripon’s Local Self-Government Acts of 1882, which introduced elections to district/municipal boards, and the Indian Councils Act of 1892, which provided for increased Indian participation in the provincial/imperial legislative bodies,

46.Watson, pp. 110-11.

47. See, e.g., Bart Moore-Gilbert, ‘“I am going to rewrite Kipling’s Kim”: Kipling and Postcolonialism’, Journal of Commonwealth Literature, 37:2 (2002), 39–58 (p. p.39).

48. Parry, ‘Recovering the Connection’, p. 313

References

Baucom, Ian, ‘The Survey of India’, in Kim: Authoritative Text, Backgrounds, Criticism, ed. by Zohreh T. Sullivan (New York: Norton, 2002), pp. 351–58
Bhabha, Homi, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994)
Brasted, Howard, ‘Indian Nationalist Development and the Influence of Irish Home Rule, 1870-1886’, Modern Asian Studies, 14:1 (1980), 37–63
Carrington, Charles, Rudyard Kipling: His Life and Work (London: Macmillan, 1955)
Chaudhuri, Nirad C., ‘The Finest Story about India’, Encounter, 8, 47–53
Farwell, Byron, Queen Victoria’s Little Wars (Allen Lane: London, 1973)
Feeley, Margaret Peller, ‘The Kim that Nobody Reads’, Studies in the Novel, 13:3 (1981), 266–81
Gibbons, Luke, ‘Race Against Time: Racial Discourse and Irish History’, Oxford Literary Review, 13:1-2 (1991), 95–117
The Reader’s Guide to Rudyard Kipling’s Work, Vol. 1, ed. by Roger Lancelyn Green and Alec Mason (Canterbury: Gibbs & Sons, 1961)
Guha, Ranajit, Dominance without Hegemony: History and Power in Colonial India (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997)
JanMohamed, Abdul R., ‘The Economy of Manichean Allegory: The Function of Racial Difference in Colonialist Literature’, Critical Inquiry, 12:1 (1985), 59–87
Karsten, Peter, ‘Irish Soldiers in the British Army, 1792-1922: Suborned or Subordinate?’, Journal of Social History, 17:1 (1983), 31–64
Kaul, Suvir, ‘Kim, or How to Be Young, Male, and British in Kipling’s India’, in Kim: Authoritative Text, Backgrounds, Criticism, ed. by Zohreh T. Sullivan (New York: Norton, 2002), pp. 426–36
Kinkead-Weekes, Mark, ‘The Ending of Kim’, in Kim: Authoritative Text, Backgrounds, Criticism, ed. by Zohreh T. Sullivan (New York: Norton, 2002), pp. 436–41
Kipling, Rudyard, ‘The Mutiny of the Mavericks’, in Life’s Handicap, (London: Macmillan, 1897), pp. 322–35
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