54 MEEKNESS OF MR. RUDYARD KIPLING and pointed them with Poe ; and then wrote them out, with infinite cunning, in a hand like an indif- ferent drawl. One of the most effective ways of out-Heroding Herod is to yawn wearily when the head is brought in. Mr. Kipling's yawn was a master- piece. His rnake-up was perfect, the deception com- plete. The mess-rooms were duly impressed. . . . But masks are dangerous things to play with : a little unexpected pressure, and they may permanently mould the face beneath. Could Kipling have been left alone after that soothing Simla success, he might, indeed, quietly sheltered, have now softly discarded his disguise and let his instincts find their native expres- sion. But there leapt out upon him from Europe our roar of applause, and that riveted him to his role. Even the dabs of deprecation, the raps from the falling rocket-sticks, perversely whipped him in the same direction. " You can write these little tales," said we, " but are you knowing enough to write long ones ? " He did not know enough : he was never meant to be a novelist ; but even less was he adapted for turning the other cheek to taunts : he set his teeth, took up the challenge, tugged the mask a little more tightly, and produced The Light that Failed. It did fail : and the critics who had really provoked it had their moment of mean triumph. But by now the youngster's pride was in pledge : he would write a brilliant novel if it broke him ; and for ten years he passionately fought out fresh perfections of technique, using his artificially acquired violence to hammer out new details of equip- ment, until at length by dint of sheer virtuosity he achieved the protracted tale called Kim. He himself, it is said, considers Kim his masterwork ; I cannot regard it as that. I think he has done better work since, but it was certainly distinguished enough to enable him, with complete justification, to regard it as his second vindication. Thenceforward, if I see it
