This story first appeared in Macmillan’s Magazine for June 1890 and in Harper’s Weekly on 7 and 14 June the same year. It was collected in The Courting of Dinah Shadd and Other Stories (1890) and Mine Own People in 1891 and Life’s Handicap the same year. (See ORG, Volume 2, p. 932 for various unauthorised editions.)
John Holden leads a double life. To his colleagues in the civil service he is a bachelor, living in spartan bachelor quarters, and sometimes neglecting his work. But he has set up a young Muslim girl, Ameera, in a little house on the edge of the old city. She is the love of his life, and he of hers. They are idyllically happy together, and when she gives birth to a baby boy, Tota, their happiness is complete. When Tota dies of fever, they are distraught. Then Ameera is stricken with cholera and dies in Holden’s arms. He is left desolate, and the house is soon pulled down. The idyll is over as if it had never been.
In Life’s Handicap the story is headed by the following lines, also collected in Songs from Books (1913).
Before my Spring I garnered Autumn’s gain,
Out of her time my field was white with grain,
The year gave up her secrets to my woe.
Forced and deflowered each sick season lay,
In mystery of increase and decay;
I saw the sunset ere men saw the day,
Who am too wise in that I should not know.
Philip Holberton writes: These lines are a lament for the doomed love in the story. John Holden has known love and fatherhood and then bereavement too early in his life: ‘I saw the sunset ere men saw the day’. And because he loved across racial and religious barriers both his happiness and now his grief have to be kept hidden: ‘who am too wise in all I should not know.’ In Life’s Handicap this verse is entitled “Bitter Waters”. [P.H.]
By strict definition, ‘Benefit of Clergy’ was the right of exemption from trial in a secular court by those in Holy Orders: which later included all who could read. (This was abolished by 1841).
However, Kipling’s punning use of the expression hinges on the fact that Holden and Ameera are living as man and wife without the blessing of his Church or hers; had one of them converted, they might have married, but such a union would have meant both social and professional ruin for Holden, who could well have ended up in similar circumstances to McIntosh Jellaludin in “To Be Filed for Reference” (Plain Tales from the Hills). See also Andrew Lycett (p.524) for a comparison with Strickland’s unorthodox behaviour in “Miss Youghal’s Sais” (Plain Tales from the Hills).
The nursery rhyne
Are koko, translated by RK as
Oh, crow, go, crow! Baby’s sleeping sound
And the wild plums grow in the jungle, only a penny a pound.
Only a penny a pound, baba, only a penny a pound …
Jan Montefiore writes: the chapter on birds in Lockwood Kipling’s Beast and Man in India (1891), (p. 30) has an alternative translation of a ‘popular cradle song’ which is very much the same:
Crow, crow! Silence keep.
Plums are ripe in jungle deep.
Fetch a bushel fresh and cheap
For a babe that wants to sleep.
It looks as if both of them knew the same Indian cradle song and translated it separately. We don’t know exactly when Rudyard wrote Without Benefit of Clergy. It may have been April or May, as his stories seem to have gone into magazines pretty fast; but he had a breakdown in Jan/ Feb and was told ‘complete rest’, so it may have been written earlier.
Lockwood might be the source, – but it’s very iffy. Beast and Man in India appeared in 1891, a year after Without Benefit of Clergy was first published in June 1890 (Macmillan’s Magazine) and Harper’s Weekly 7 and 14 June 1890, so it cannot be the direct source. On the other hand, Lockwood could have passed it on verbally. Andrew Lycett says that Kipling was in a bad way in the winter of 1890, and in March sent his parents the telegraph appeal ‘Genesis 45.9’ asking him ‘come down to me: tarry not.’ They arrived in ‘early May’, and Rudyard promptly felt well enough to take off to Paris to see Flo. If Rudyard was getting the story ready for publication in May, and if he talked about it with his father (which he might well have done, though I can’t see him discussing his story about a man with a ‘native’ mistress with Alice) , and if he said ‘I need Ameera to sing a cradle song, what might it be?’ I can imagine Lockwood saying ‘How about the crow one?’
But then the question arises: how did they both know it? Kipling could have learnt it at his nurse’s knee – but Lockwood? Makes you wonder. And if Lockwood was the source, why did he give a different translation ? To be shamelessly speculative: we know from Trix that Lockwood helped with the dialect and geography of On Greenhow Hill, written not much later than Without Benefit of Clergy That, and The Courting of Dinah Shadd, and Without Benefit of Clergy , are among the few stories in which Kipling deals directly and at length with sexual love between men and women. On Greenhow Hill is not dissimilar, in that Learoyd and Liza Roantree though both English come from different cultures – she is ‘chapel’ and respectable, he is a rough miner and disapproved of by her father, especially when in the end he turns soldier. And their love is equally doomed because like Ameera she dies young. Harish Trivedi has written in ‘Of Beasts and Gods in India’ that ‘Lockwood’s insider knowledge of rural and lower-class India is nothing short of impressive’ (Kipling Journal 373, Special Lockwood Kipling Issue, May 2018) and I can imagine Kipling talking through the details of Without Benefit of Clergy with him. But ‘imagine’ is the mot juste; we just don’t know where he got the verse from.
What we can say is that Lockwood’s Beast and Man confirms the authenticity of Ameera’s ‘cradle song ? [J.M.]
Some critical comments
Nirad C. Chaudhuri thinks this story does not ring true and describes Kipling as prone to falsify the theme of Eastern love and sees it as: ‘…a wholly undeserved idealization of an Anglo-Muhammadan liaison …. and a piece of decided sentimentality.’ [Rudyard Kipling, Ed. John Gross ,Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1972, p. 30]
Kingsley Amis, however, looks upon it as: an unsentimental elegy for all doomed love’ (p.64).
Edmund Wilson, in The Wound and the Bow [Houghton Mifflin Company, 1941] (p.118), says: ‘This idyll, unhallowed and fleeting, is something that the artist in Kipling has felt, and put down for its sweetness and pathos.’
Somerset Maugham observes in his Introduction to A Choice of Kipling’s Prose, (Macmillan, 1952) that: ‘… the stories Kipling produced on his arrival in London are of the highest quality, a quality which later he often achieved but never surpassed. (p. xiii). Those included in this volume are “The Man who Was”, this story and “At the End of the Passage”. ‘
See Edmund Gosse, in Questions at Issue [Heineman, 1893, p.280] for a contemporary who admires his work:
‘….a little group of stories which I cannot but hold to be the culminating point of his genius so far. If the remainder of his writings were swept away, posterity would be able to reconstruct its Rudyard Kipling from “ Without Benefit of Clergy”, “The Man Who Would be King”, “The Strange Ride of Morrowbie Jukes” and “Beyond the Pale”. ‘
With the possible exception of Mrs Hauksbee, Kipling is probably better at writing of Indian women than English ones. The enchanting Lalun (“On the City Wall” in Soldiers Three and Other Stories), the unfortunate Bisesa (“Beyond the Pale” in Plain Tales from the Hills), and Ameera in this story, are all delightful women, but contact with British men is death to two of the three.
The social tabu against ‘mixed marriages’ in Kipling’s day is in strong contrast to earlier times when Britons married Indian ladies of rank and happily brought up children who themselves became people of importance in the army and civil life. [See Archie Baron, An Indian Affair (Pan Macmillan, 2001, p. 107) for an account of eighteenth-century days in India.]
“Yoked with an Unbeliever” (Plain Tales from the Hills) and “Georgie Porgie” (Life’s Handicap) seem to be the only stories of such unions by Kipling that are more or less successful; but both have something of a sting in their tails.
Lalun, Bisesa, and Ameera are described so convincingly by Kipling that one cannot help asking, with Angus Wilson, who (p. 2) calls it ‘… that most sheerly beautiful of all Kipling’s stories…’, if there is an element of autobiography here? (p. 107.) Having posed the question, Wilson immediately dismisses it as ‘silly’, and quite impossible to answer, but one still wonders. The nationality of the nameless girl that Valens buys in Constantinople is not given, but their romance ends in tragedy too (“The Church that was at Antioch” in Limits and Renewals). ‘Lispeth’ in the story of that name in Plain Tales from the Hills lost her Englishman, but seems to have found security if not happiness as ‘The Woman of Shamlegh’ in Kim.
[J.R.’J H McG]
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