CLAIMS OF LITERATURE.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 241, 4 July 1908, Page 12

CLAIMS OF LITERATURE.

; Presiding at the 118th'anniversary banquet of tho Royal Literary Fund in' tho Whitehall Rooms, London, 'recently, Mr. Rudyard Kipling said:— :. '; : ■ "If you go no further back than tho Book of Job—(laughter)—you will find that letters,, like tho art ; of printing,..werp born perfect. (Hear! I 'hear.) Some professions, law and mddiciuo, for example, are still in a state of evolution, inasmuch as no. expert in them , seems to be qwte 6uro that he can , win-'a' case or* cure a" cold! (Laughter.) ■:• On' tHe other, hand,; the' calling of letters oarfrom which : ; theso' : professions',-'are,'free. 'When, an 'law-' yer "or a physician'is ■ once dead, he is always dead. : (Laughter.) His ghost does not . continue to;practise; in the law/court's- or the operating • theatre;' : (Laughter.) Now, if escaped your attention ,that a 'writer: often does;,not /begin' to live 'till he has 'been' dead for- soino time. In certain ; notorious ;cases the;longer he : has been dead the more' alive. he. is, and the . more acute is ; ;:- his competition,. against the; 1 living. (Laughter.), I do hot ' ask you to imagine the feelings',.of !a'-'.barrister, exposed' to' the competition 'of -• all 'the dead Lord Chancellors that -jeyer;. sat,,on the Woolsack,,:each . dejivering judgment, on any. conceivable caBo! at!6d. .per, judgment, paper bound. (Laughter.) I only, ask you to ; allow . that what lawyers , call / 'thV, dead i. hand'-fin ' this ; caao with .a peri in it—lies heavy on the'callirig ofletters.,, ' (Laughter, and hear,: hear!) In other callings of life there exists a convention that what ( a man has made shall be . his;own'and-his;children's after him.: With : regard;' to ; letters,' the world : decides that after a very short tinie all that a writer may have created, shall be taken from him, and shall become tho property of i anybody , and everybody, oxcopt the , original maker: • (Hoar, hear.) . This may be right! be more important that men should be helped to think than ! that they should bo helped to live.-. But those on whom; this righteous-i ness is executed find it difficult to establish a; family on letters. Sometimes they find it difficult to feed one, : Tfyat,letters should, be .exempted. from the law. of .continuous ownership seems to constitute another handicap on the calling. Most men are bound by oath,-or organisation, or, their .natural '. instinct, not; to .work fornothing. ,- (Laughter.) ;Wheri,j his'-'demon .urges ;a!'man -of letters to work ;he may do so ..without .any : regard, to wages or the sentiments of his felW-workers. This may be; incontinence, or inspiration. Whichever it is, we must face tno fact, and; its consequences, that at, any moment a ! man of letters may choose to pay not only. with his skin, but in cash and'credit, for leave to do his work—to say the (thing he dosires to say. (Hear, hoar.) This is, perhaps', riot fair to himself or bis fellows', but, it is a law of his being, and as suoh constitutes yet another handicap. : ;, " There is a legend in Philistia—a Pharisaical legend—that!those who follow- letters aro disorderly minded, unstasfo ot habit, and so peculiarly: open to misfortune. (Laughter.) Now! since tho Pharisees originate very , little .that has not been puc into their minds by , tho Scribes—(laughter)—it is pos- ; siblo that men of letters writing about men of letters have themselves to thank in some ■■■ measure for; this \unkind judgment. ' Every, man in trouble naturally cries that there is no sorrow like his sorrow, but not all .men, not all men's friends, nor : all men's iehemies can draw the world's attention to that complaint, ; 'Writers have been their • own interpreters in this respect—not' always to their , own advantage. It does uot square in with experience that any class of men has pre-eminence over any other class in the zeal and perseverance with which'.: its members go about to compass their own 'ruin.;

"Is it not more reasonable to hold that tho triple handicap I have mentioned, and not go much individual folly, is responsible for the high percentage of casualties among men of letters? /, Men perpetually measured against tho great works of tho past; men debarred by law from full possession of their own works in tho present; raon driven from within to work whether their world desires that work or not; such men must always enjoy the privilege accorded to minorities. Thoy must suffer. Much of this suffering is inevitable,'but 'somo of: it the fund, by your good ,help, can reach and alleviato as few other institutions can. (Hear, hear.) It has had over a century's experience of all the chances and misfortunes that can overtake men and women. Its work is done, as we would desire it to bo done in our own case, with silence and discretion, and for that very reason it is difficult, as the report says, to bring home" the- value of the work to tho public, Perhaps this is not the only case where the public is difficult to persuade. Few people seriously believe that the public success or failure of any work has necosBarily any bearing upon its real value. If it had, the public would bo as gods, knowing good and evil. It ia difficult to find a true.test; but suppose that men aiid women at largo could bo compelled to romember, awl realise to themselves, .and to say bon-. ostly J what writers o£ their time had moat

directly influenced their inner lives. The answers might be unflattering to such of us as think that wo mako or shapo thought. (Laughter.) ' We should como across a thousand instances of good work—faithful, loving, and inspired: work—already forgotten, and' always unacknowledged, excopt by tho very few it was destined to reach. We might also discover casos whoro the blessed canons of art would seem to have recoiled upon - themselves—(laughter)—puzzling cases whoro tho apparently flagrant pot-boiler had turnod a man from destruction quite as effectually as an angel with a flaming sword; cases wh'oro a picco of unthinking buffoonery had steadied a man through tho ten vital minutes' of a life's crisis, where cheap-senti-ment and rank melodrama had helped to lift somo poor soul to humility or sacrifico or strength that ho know not ho possessed. I am making no excuse for mediocrity. I only say it is possible that .if tho full record of unacknowledged influences were over rovoaled, wo might end by believing that in the kingdom of Letters also thero is neither first nor last. Mercifully that record will nover be submitted. But,we, the first matter of whoso 'work,' great or small, must bo tho human heart, wo can frame our own judgments. Being craftsmen wo know whoro wo ourselves havo been helped in insight, sympathy, or. suggestion by the work of our follow-craftsmen. For tho same reason, wo can trace! the influenco of their work on the lips anil'm tho minds of unsuspecting men ahd,;w;omen the world over. Thriugh the writer is supposed to love the writor not'. more' than the potter loves the potter,', yet". in' everything that touches ; tho i mysteries and the perils of the craft' all writers are one.',, By virtue of the burdens which'.press on'-us' all equally when wo stand upright, 'wo' know what weight a brother must endure when he falls. We know how much of, his soulmay livo in the sunshine; how much of it..,must step apart to bo master or servant to shadows. It is not boyond our "comprehension that the powers which a'man has long controlled in honour may turn against and,destroy him—so that Frankenstein, is "hurried out of the samo World by his own monster. Truly by our good lights, Fraiikonstein may not.be much of a magician, .and the monster .may be a vory shallow monster, but we aro too near to'judgo tho artist. Wo aro just-near enough to try to help the mail. " Wo, of all people, are too near to judge our fellows ; and, ;in, case., we should forget this, we have, tho revised and reversed verdicts of our ancestors upon their literary, favourites to teach us to. walk humbly , with'our neighhours and with ourselves. There is good reason why wo should walk humbly, since ouf calling demands of its followers nothing more than tho stringing together of words and phrases, under perpetual guarantee that tho overwhelming bulk .of their labours shall perish in the hour of birth. It exacts as the price of their lost labours only all their heart, and body, and-soul, and mind, and strength, and tho few and uncertain rewards which it offers outside tho joy of working aro carofully tempered with vanity and vexation of spirit. Yet wo may recall that out of letters, and' lottcrs only,-havo -proceeded, since history began, thoso words which have governed men, singly -or in mass—thoso, phrases by which tho world lias striven to live —for which the world hn-s sometimes been content to.'din.' After all, the phrase—the naked-phrase—is, the power-whioh makes or unmakes the kingdoms.,and '■ .th'e.'iglorics.; ■Wo cannot- foretell in the multitude of , words about us whoso words ■ are <lostined to survive, to rule, to delight,- to persuade, or accuse thoso that come after.- Wo hope that somo will so survive.:, Air wo aro' sure of now is that among the many men and women who havo followed letters .in, this , h'igh hope a, certain number have been' overborne by. evil cbnnces, accidents,' and misfortunes. which, but for the mere whim of time and fortune, might hare como to any.one of us'.. I give vou. that you may'give, 'Prosperity to the Royal. Literary Fund."' (Cheers.) ..