Reception In England Research Articles

How Britain got the blues: the transmission and reception of American blues style in the United Kingdom

Contents: Preface Jazz reception in Britain: misunderstandings and recordings in exile The first time I met the blues: blues arrives in Britain 1953-1957: the problem of the new 1957-1962: the blues revival, part I 'London: the new Chicago!': the R&B boom of 1963-1965 Blues at the crossroads: the British blues revival part III, 1965-1970 Bibliography Index.

George Kirbye's Clemens parody

The recent appearance of an anthology of Jacobean Latin motets edited by Ross W. Duffin in the RRMR series focuses attention on a little-explored repertory of English music. Although the motet went into decline in the years following the death of William Byrd, there are some accomplished and interesting Jacobean and Caroline examples which repay study. George Kirbye’s two surviving motets (Quare tristis es (a4) and Vox in Rama (a6)) are among the most distinguished examples of the Jacobean motet repertory. The second of these is of particular interest, because it turns out to be closely modelled on the setting of the same text by Clemens non Papa, published by Ulhard in Augsburg in 1549. Kirbye’s motet, which survives in an incomplete set of manuscript partbooks (GB-Ob Tenbury 087-11), takes up all the main imitative points of the modal and elaborates them, removing the modal ambiguity in the original and applying techniques which Kirbye had apparently learnt from his study of the works of Byrd and the elder Ferrabosco. Kirbye’s setting, which may have been designed as a response to Weelkes’s Laboravi in gemitu meo (a6), also adds something to our knowledge of Clemens reception in England.

The big show: British cinema culture in the Great War, 1914-1918

The Big Show looks at the role played by cinema in British cultural life during World War One. In writing the definitive account of film exhibition and reception in Britain in the years 1914 to 1918, Michael Hammond shows how the British film industry and British audiences responded to the traumatic effects of the Great War. The author contends that the War's significant effect was to expedite the cultural acceptance of cinema into the fabric of British social life. As a result, by 1918, cinema had emerged as the predominant leisure form in British social life. Through a consideration of the films, the audience, the industry and the various regulating and censoring bodies, the book explores the impact of the war on the newly established cinema culture. It also studies the contribution of the new medium to the public's perception of the war. * Fills an important gap in the history of Hollywood outside the USA * Uses the cinema culture of Southampton, an important gateway port to the battlefields of Europe, to present a series of case studies * A study of early British cinema, for which the Exeter list has a strong reputation Social and cultural history of Britain in WWI

Traducción y recepción del 'Quijote' en Gran Bretaña (1612-1774)

Este artículo toma como referencia las traducciones inglesas del Quijote publicadas entre 1612 y 1774 a fin de analizar la recepción que la novela cervantina tuvo durante ese periodo en Gran Bretaña. Los prólogos de los traductores ejercieron un gran influjo entre los lectores británicos en las dos centurias en que Cervantes influyó profundamente en el teatro y la novela ingleses. Así, la traducción de Shelton (1612) presentó el Quijote como una sátira, percepción que se mantuvo a lo largo del siglo XVII; la de Motteaux (1700), como una parodia, y la de Smollett (1755), como el modelo de los valores caballerescos.

Ken Russell's The Debussy film (1965)

First telecast on 18 May 1965 as part of the BBC's Monitor series, The Debussy Film was Ken Russell's first fully-realized composer biopic—‘one of Russell's major contributions to the art of film b...

DESIGNING, MAKING AND USING SCIENTIFIC INSTRUMENTS IN INDIA: THE EXAMPLE OF JAGADIS CHUNDER BOSE

SUMMARY Jagadis Chunder Bose (1858-1937) was the first Indian physicist to be elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of London. He made his name in the scientific community by constructing an instrument to produce electromagnetic waves of short wavelength. Later he worked on plant physiology. For demonstration as well as research purposes he constructed many instruments. These are discussed, together with accounts of their reception in England and Germany, and comments on the provision of instruments in India.

Frost'sNorth of Boston, Its Language, Its People, and Its Poet

K north of Boston was Robert Frost's second book of poems but the first to reveal his full dramatic power and moral awareness. It was also the first to explore the culture of rural New England in which these poetic powers had grown to maturity. Published in May 1914 in London, fifteen months after A Boys Will, North of Boston gained a warm reception in England and by September had made its way to Henry Holt in New York. Holt, buy ing the American rights from Frost's English publisher, David Nutt, reissued North of Boston in February of 1915, * making it Frost's first American book and ending what had been, for him, two decades of obscurity at home. Reviewed by Amy Lowell in New Republic the very week of Frost's return from England,2 the volume announced Frost to literary New York and Boston and revealed to America the poetic voice ? vigorous and vernacular, yet subtle and complex ? for which he would soon be widely known. North of Boston also established Frost as a poet of people and place. Presenting earthy characters mainly in blank-verse narrative and dialogue, it takes us into the lives of working people in Frost's early twentieth-century New England. Even the volume's first-person lyrics ? Mending Wall, After Apple-Picking, and The Wood-Pile ? contain strong narrative and dramatic elements. Structuring the book through their strategic placement, they sound a keynote for the volume in their use of a conversational style, their exploration of character and motive, their emphasis on traditional skills and labor in a life in which winter is always near and survival never assured. All of the sixteen poems that comprise North of Boston underwent final revision in England during the summer and fall of 1913, when the Frosts occupied a rented cottage in the London suburb of Beaconsfield. Yet the creative sources for these poems and their vernacular style go back to Frost's

Frost's North of Boston, Its Language, Its People, and Its Poet

Frost's North of Boston, Its Language, Its People, and Its Poet David Sanders (bio) North of Boston was Robert Frost's second book of poems but the first to reveal his full dramatic power and moral awareness. It was also the first to explore the culture of rural New England in which these poetic powers had grown to maturity. Published in May 1914 in London, fifteen months after A Boy's Will,North of Boston gained a warm reception in England and by September had made its way to Henry Holt in New York. Holt, buying the American rights from Frost's English publisher, David Nutt, reissued North of Boston in February of 1915,1 making it Frost's first American book and ending what had been, for him, two decades of obscurity at home. Reviewed by Amy Lowell in The New Republic the very week of Frost's return from England,2 the volume announced Frost to literary New York and Boston and revealed to America the poetic voice—vigorous and vernacular, yet subtle and complex—for which he would soon be widely known. North of Boston also established Frost as a poet of people and place. Presenting earthy characters mainly in blank-verse narrative and dialogue, it takes us into the lives of working people in Frost's early twentieth-century New England. Even the volume's first-person lyrics—"Mending Wall," "After Apple-Picking," and "The Wood-Pile"—contain strong narrative and dramatic elements. Structuring the book through their strategic placement, they sound a keynote for the volume in their use of a conversational style, their exploration of character and motive, their emphasis on traditional skills and labor in a life in which winter is always near and survival never assured. All of the sixteen poems that comprise North of Boston underwent final revision in England during the summer and fall of 1913, when the Frosts occupied a rented cottage in the London suburb of Beaconsfield. Yet the creative sources for these poems and their vernacular style go back to Frost's [End Page 70] decade (1900-1909) on a small farm in Derry, New Hampshire. Frost, having left college a second time and suffering worrisome chest ailments, had, with money from his grandfather, turned away from the factory work and teaching that he already knew to try poultry farming, which promised to leave him time to write while supporting his family in a healthy rural environment. While the Derry years never quite made Frost either a farmer or a living, they shaped the poet he had determined to become, immersing him not only in the seasonal cycles and "country things" that would saturate his verse, but in the New England speech which he would make his poetic tongue. In doing so, the Derry years also made vivid and real the lives of the neighbors who would people North of Boston and, in wresting a living from hard climate and stony soil, would define a moral center for Frost's poetic world. Considering his interest in its people, we might ask why Frost's comments on his verse in the year leading to the book's publication focus so thoroughly on matters of technique. The question is answered partly by Frost's immediate situation. The public response to A Boy's Will had raised doubts whether the artistry of his seemingly natural style would be understood by the audience, including the reviewers, of the volume in preparation, which Frost saw as pivotal to his career. In April 1913, for example, the Times Literary Supplement had described the simplicity of A Boy's Will as "naively engaging."3 Ezra Pound's review in Poetry the following month had carried a greater sting. Although he had helped to promote Frost's name, Pound had made "the mistake," as Frost would soon complain to John Bartlett, "of assuming that my simplicity is that of the untutored child."4 Little as he had ever trusted Pound, Frost must still have felt betrayed by so cavalier an assessment from one who styled himself Frost's champion. He may also have worried that Pound had laid a path for others to follow...

Problems and Challenges in the Historical Study of the Neurosciences

The paper focuses on historiographical questions relevant to the historical study of the neurosciences. I attempt to illuminate these questions by looking at them from the perspective of general historiography of science. In the first section, I consider the disciplinary structure of the modern neurosciences and discuss some of the historiographical problems that are involved in the historical description of a highly multidisciplinary field. For example, how far back in time can one trace brain research as part of the construction that we call the neurosciences? The main part of the paper deals with recent trends in contextualist historiography in relation to the neurosciences. I suggest that one important source for the trend, as it emerged in the 1970s, was a renewed interest in the history of phrenology and its reception in Britain. By looking at the historiography of phrenology, some of the rival positions in modern historiography of science can be illuminated. In the last part of the paper, I comment on the advantages and disadvantages of contextualist historiography of science, including its relation to the producers of science, the scientists.

Shakespeare Celebrations in Times of War

G ARRICK'S STRATFORD JUBILEE OF 1769 established panegyric and quasireligious rites for paying tribute to Shakespeare. Subsequent cultic commemorations strove to enact-both theatrically and verbally-the poet's apotheosis, praising his godlike creativity and the universal appeal of his immortal works. Performances of his plays were another matter; these were considered to be-if not altogether unfit for the limitations of the theater-in need of rearrangement, expurgation, refinement, and improvement, especially if more-or-less popular audiences were to be reached, and if the author was to be installed as a worthy representative of his nation-and of other nations as well. For not only England but other countries, too, came to claim him as their national poet. On many levels (theatrical, literary, critical, ideological, etc.) Shakespeare's apotheosis and domestication, his global impact and national appropriation became a curiously simultaneous if not dialectical process that determined the Bard's reception in Britain and elsewhere. Among the most spectacular manifestations of that process were the grand celebrations of the tercentenaries of Shakespeare's birth in 1864 and of his death in 1916, with which this essay will be mainly concerned. Since these anniversaries occurred in times of international tension and war, they generated divided forms of homage and, indeed, dislocations of the dramatist's image.1 In 1864 interrelations between cultural, political, and martial activities may have appeared less overt than one would expect today.2 In late April 1864 reports and articles on celebrations of the three-hundredth birthday dominated the front pages of the entire English press for a week. Many papers also had illustrated supplements devoted to Shakespeare's life, career, and influence. Other news, however alarming, was tucked away in marginal columns. This included news about the

Demystifying Aubrey Beardsley

Books reviewed in this article:Stephen Calloway Three Artists (Three Women); Modernism and the Art of Hesse, Krasner and O’KeefeLinda Gertner Zatlin Beardsley Japonisme and the Perversion of the Victorian IdealJane Haville Desmarais The Beardsley Industry. The Critical Reception in England and FrancePeter Raby Aubrey Beardsley and the NinetiesMatthew Sturgis Aubrey Beardsley. A Biography

Aubrey Beardsley in the 1990s

Aubrey Beardsley in the 1990s Margaret Stetz (bio) and Mark Samuels Lasner (bio) The following books are under consideration in this review: Aubrey Beardsley, by Stephen Calloway; pp. 224. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1998, $39.95. Beardsley, Japonisme, and the Perversion of the Victorian Ideal, by Linda Gertner Zatlin; pp. xiv + 304. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997, $70.00. Aubrey Beardsley and the Nineties, by Peter Raby; pp. 120. London: Collins and Brown, 1998, £12.99. The Beardsley Industry: The Critical Reception in England and France, 1893–1914, by Jane Haville Desmarais; pp. x + 166. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 1998, £49.50, $84.95. Aubrey Beardsley: A Biography, by Matthew Sturgis; pp. x + 405. London: HarperCollins, 1998; Woodstock, NY: Overlook, 1999, £19.95, $29.95. Click for larger view View full resolution Figure 4. Aubrey Beardsley, Ave atque Vale. Under the Hill and Other Essays in Prose and Verse. London and New York: John Lane, Publisher, The Bodley Head, 1904. 60. The old lecture hall, a wonderfully creaky survivor of the days when the Victoria and Albert was known as the South Kensington Museum, had surely seen nothing like this before. As the strains of a syntho-pop rendering of the Liebestod from Richard Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde (1859) played on a continuous-loop tape, out came seven figures gliding slowly on immense platform clogs, the height of which added several inches to these already towering forms. Some were women with breasts bare of everything but powder, nipples angrily erect from the chill of a London autumn; some were men in drag, their faces painted the chalky hue of kabuki performers; some were of indeterminate gender, sporting dark wigs like swirls of frosting atop a cupcake and artificial butterflies on wires fluttering around their [End Page 289] elongated necks. All wore starkest black and white. There was the gauzily draped amazon with the warrior’s bosom so familiar from Aubrey Beardsley’s Salome illustration, Enter Herodias (1894). And there was Salome herself, encased in the garment from The Black Cape—massive, stiff, and shaped like the unfolding wings of a raven about to take flight. Inna Shulzhenko, a Russian fashion designer and director of the Gallery Az’Art in Moscow, had lifted these fantastic garments from Beardsley’s drawings for Oscar Wilde’s Salome, as well as for the Yellow Book (from which Beardsley was dismissed as art editor in 1895), the Savoy (with which he was associated from 1895–96), and the J. M. Dent edition of Le Morte Darthur (1893–94), and given them three dimensions in her “Beardsley Collection.” In doing so, she had highlighted the inherent theatricality of Beardsley’s pen-and-ink figures. But unlike, for instance, Alla Nazimova, who put the cast of her 1923 silent film version of Salome through its paces in awkward Beardsleyesque garb, Shulzhenko had recognized that Beardsley’s images of the clothed body are the antitheses of functional costumes for dramatic production. They are instead dramatic productions in themselves, each one the star of its own violent struggle against the viewers’ expectations. Beardsley’s designs cannot be subsumed into a larger spectacle, for they are already too arrestingly engaged in a dynamic visual contention with a variety of aesthetic and cultural norms. And as Shulzhenko’s translations of line into fabric emphasized, Beardsley’s representations of the human figure, in particular, continue today to be just as breathtakingly defiant of conventions of anatomy and proportion, as well as of race and sexuality—indeed, of whatsoever is ordinarily assumed to be biologically “natural”—as when they first appeared during the fin-de-siècle. The occasion for this instructive display was, surprisingly enough, a scholarly conference held in November 1998. Titled “Beardsley: Myth and Reality,” it was organized by the Education Department of the otherwise staid V & A to coincide with an exhibition curated by Stephen Calloway—one of four major shows at galleries and museums in England, in Japan, and at Princeton University during 1998, the centenary of Beardsley’s death. All four demonstrated convincingly that this English artist, whose life and career were cut short by tuberculosis at age twenty-five, was central not only to...

An ‘Undeniable’ and ‘Disastrous’ Influence? Dewey and English Education (1895‐1939)

ABSTRACT This article focuses on the educational theories and practices of the American pragmatist philosopher, John Dewey, and their reception in England between 1895 and 1939. It takes issue with the notion of influence and its usage in the History of Ideas and points to the many critiques it has been exposed to. Adopting Quentin Skinner's approach to the definition of influence, prevailing accounts of Dewey's impact on the English education system are found to be misleading. An alternative account that highlights the contribution of J.J. Findlay and his sister Maria in introducing Dewey to an English audience is presented and the role played by Dewey's educational thought in the transformation of the Froebelian pedagogy is emphasised. Other readings of Dewey by English educationalists are discussed in order to show the nature of their reception but also how small was the circle that made reference to Dewey in their work.

Bucke, Whitman, and the Cross-Border Homosocial

I. In 1854 Henry David Thoreau wrote in Walden a visit paid him by a wandering French-Canadian woodchopper. So taken was Thoreau with this rugged laborer--a true Homeric or Paphlagonian (144), as he put it in his journal--and so eager was he fasten [him]self like a bloodsucker ... to any full-blooded man that [came his] way (140), that he indulged in a moment Homerotic fantasy: he asked the woodsman to read to him from the Iliad, and in particular Achilles reproof to Patroclus for his sad countenance (144). This passage, in Henry Abelove's view, mirrors Thoreau's relation to the readers Walden.... Just as he hands the wood-chopper a book, so he does to his readers, and as his readers we are therefore all positioned, regardless our gender or sexual taste, as the objects a homosexual (22-23). Our argument extends Abelove's reading by proposing that this seduction is paradigmatic what we are calling the homosocial. (1) In developing this term, we are building on Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick's notion desire. Sedgwick writes in Between Men that Homosocial is a word occasionally used in history and the social sciences, where it describes social bonds between persons the same sex; it is a neologism, obviously formed by analogy with homosexual, and just as obviously meant to be distinguished from homosexual. In fact, it is applied to such activities as bonding, which may, as in our society, be characterized by intense homophobia, fear and hatred homosexuality. To draw the homosocial back into the orbit the potentially erotic, then, is to hypothesize the potential unbrokenness a continuum between and homosexual--a continuum whose visibility, for men, in our society, is radically disrupted.... I do not mean to discuss genital homosexual as at the root of other forms male homosociality--but rather [as] a strategy for making generalizations about, and marking historical differences in, the structure men's relations with other men. (1-2) Sedgwick goes on to situate this continuum the structural context triangular, heterosexual desire (16). Drawing primarily on Rene Girard's schematization erotic triangles in the male-centred novelistic tradition Europe, she outlines a basic paradigm whereby active male is refracted/triangulated asymetrically through the passive positioning women as displaced objects nominal/patrimonial heterosexual (21-27). However, by adding to homosocial, we are extending Sedgwick's argument spatially, along a geography desire, in order to explore the question whether sexuality is further triangulated across and through national and geographical borderlines, an aspect Canada-U.S. relations which has been ignored in recent literary critical and historical discussions the cross-border phenomenon (as we discuss in section VII below). In other words, do sexualities and genders construct themselves differently according to differences in nation and geography? In this regard, we are working within the framework outlined by George Mosse's Nationalism and Sexuality: Middle-Class Morality and Sexual Norms in Modern Europe, in which Mosse argues that the histories nationalism and sexuality are enmeshed (10), as well as within the broader frame reference articulated by Nationalisms and Sexualities, whose chapters (according to its editors) interrogate the (hetero) normative assumption that 'nation' and 'sexuality' are themselves trans-historical, supra-national, or self-identical categories (2). II. In the concluding chapter Between Men, Sedgwick outlines a classic instance trans-Atlantic homosociality involving Walt Whitman's literary reception in England. …

Milton on Machiavelli: Representations of the State in Paradise Lost

In the prologue to Christopher Marlowe's The Jew of Malta, Machiavelli appears on stage to announce his arrival in England after a sojourn through the Continent:Albeit the world thinke Machevill is dead,Yet was his soule but flowne beyond the Alpes,And now the Guize is dead, is come from FranceTo view this Land and frolicke with his friends. (Prologue, 1-4)The impact of Machiavelli on sixteenth-century Europe was profound, and as this passage implies, his reception in England was complicated by an involved process of transmission. Reactions to his works mixed with demonic portrayals of him that had percolated through European political communities.

Unescorted in Africa: Victorian Women Ethnographers Toiling in the Fields of Sensational Science

Recently, anthropologists Catherine A. Lutz and Jane L. Collins have studied representations in that respectable staple of the doctor's waiting room--the National Geographic. In Reading National Geographic, they persuasively argue the role of the magazine in constructing for Americans the ubiquitous category of the Other, and show cultural discriminations of difference grounded and conveyed in its representations of sexuality. In tone and style, the Notional Geographic's middle-brow intellectuality rejects, for example, the obvious prurience of overheated Hollywood constructions of frenzied sensuality in native dance and ritual in favor of representations for the cooler, and more 'adult' eye. No matter its pretensions: some time ago, Richard Pryor got to the heart of the matter; the National Geographic, he quipped, was the black man's Playboy (McMillen A10). For its white middle-class readers, the magazine intellectualized prurience and borrowed the unflappable scientizing eye of the professional to underwrite its status of popular respectability. At the same time, however, this collapse of the professional and the popular also suggests a continuum of concerns and representation embedded historically in the development of ethnography and anthropology. While the National Geographic is often taken as a mid-twentieth-century icon, its character has a longer, traceable lineage. This strain of 'prurient science'--managed as a matter of 'tone' in which fascination with the body of the Other is legitimized in service of enlightened knowledge (and superiority)--largely originates in the compelling nineteenth-century interest in sexualizing cultural difference. Nowhere is this charged mixture more evident, or more problematic, than in the self-constituted exemplar linking progressive knowledge and empire, Victorian Britain. More modest efforts at late-century empire building by the United States helped solidify an Anglo-American point of view in the professionalization of the emergent human sciences. However, as late entrants to the aims of empire, and under a British view of innate American gaucherie, Americans would struggle to overcome what was seen as a fit subservience in their professional contributions; yet their enthusiastic embrace of the British model would allow for some jostling for position within the hierarchy of a European tradition identified with the scientized eye. By the end of the century, Imperial Britain was nearing its peak, yet the nation's pride in its extensive empire was not free of anxieties, a circumstance grounding a curiously gendered paradox: justifying the venture as a civilizing mission--a mission long felt as woman's special moral province--Britain could point to vast reaches of the globe where now a woman might walk; at the same time, however, its domestic ideology had prompted Victorian England to restrict and thus 'protect' its women. With the fit between domestic and imperial ideology patently incoherent, women at the end of the century seized a new opportunity, however ambivalently extended, and the ranks of 'lady explorers' swelled. This new breed of traveler would see, and calmly report on what had been, in earlier missionaries' reticent ethnographies, tantalizingly omitted (but spotlighted) as 'practices too disgusting to mention.'(1) At the time when anthropology as a nascent discipline was forming itself, the coincident entree of women created a very public moment in which issues of gender, sexuality, and professionalization would intersect. It is this moment that I want to elaborate by looking, first, at the state of ethnographic study at the end of the century, and then, at the reception in England of two women travelers in the 1890s: an American, May French Sheldon, and England's Mary Kingsley.(2) One measure of women's new presence as explorers, especially given the sluggishness of institutions to acknowledge new realities, is the prolonged Royal Geographical Society debate in the 1890s over extending membership to notable women travelers. …

<i>Vineland</i> in the Mainstream Press: A Reception Study

More than any other Pynchon novel, Vineland was a phenomenal popular success, holding its own on the New York Times Bestseller List for a surprising total of thirteen weeks (January 21–April 15, 1990). Not all reviewers, however, were as enthusiastic as the book-buying public. A March 1990 letter to the London Review of Books claimed to have spotted a trend, noting the general critical denunciation of the new book and calculating the current ratio as about three-to-one against (Walker). While this negative press may characterize Vineland's reception in Britain (London Times, London Observer, London Review of Books), my informal estimate of the American reviews is three-to-two in favor. Many of this country's major publications gave Vineland positive notices (Time, Newsweek) and, in some important cases, glowing reviews (New York Times Book Review, New Yorker, Los Angeles Times Book Review).

Reviews : Italian Studies Fascism and Fiction. A Survey of Italian Fiction on Fascism (and Its Reception in Britain and the United States). By Alberto Traldi. N.Y. & London: The Scarecrow Press, 1987. Pp. xiii + 406. £32.50

Reviews : Italian Studies Fascism and Fiction. A Survey of Italian Fiction on Fascism (and Its Reception in Britain and the United States). By Alberto Traldi. N.Y. & London: The Scarecrow Press, 1987. Pp. xiii + 406. £32.50

Flight into self absorption and xenophobia

The year after 1933 saw a remarkable growth and transformation of physics in Britain and America. Following the rise of a Nazi government in Berlin, over a hundred German-speaking and predominantly Jewish physicists emigrated to other countries, especially to the English speaking ones. Their reception in Britain and America was to be strongly influenced by the disparity between the then predominantly experimental physics – center on Rutherford's nuclear physics school at Cambridge and Lawrence Bragg's crystallography at Manchester – and the quantum theoretical work done in the main German center of Gottingen, Munich and Berlin, with which many of them has been previously associated.

Kipling and 'Orientalism'

First published in 1986, this book sets Kipling firmly in the historical context not only of contemporary India but of prior Anglo-Indian writers about India. Despite his enthusiastic reception in England as ‘revealer of the East’, in India he seems to have been regarded as just one more Anglo-Indian writer. The author demonstrates the traditionalism of Kipling’s use of the themes of Anglo-Indian fiction – themes such as the ‘White Man’s grave’, domestic instability, frustration and loneliness. In particular, Kipling is shown to be writing in a strongly conservative idiom, concentrating on the role of the British hierarchy as the determining factor in a response to India, on British insecurity and fears of a repeat of the 1857 mutiny, and regarding Indian institutions only in so far as they represented a threat to British rule. Conservative critiques of liberalism are also discussed.