Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) is today most well-known as the writer of The Jungle Book. He was born in India to British parents. The stories he heard and his childhood experiences heavily influenced his writing. Like most British children whose parents were living in India, he was sent back to England for his education. He and his sister were regularly abused at school, and much of his later life was tragic.
His writing found acclaim very early in his career. He wrote for adults and children. He was a journalist, short-storyist, novelist and was particularly known in his time as a poet. He was one of the most renowned writers of his time, the youngest winner and first English language winner of the Nobel prize in Literature. He was particularly innovative with the short story as used for children.
Now this is the Law of the Jungle — as old and as true as the sky;
The Second Jungle Book
And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die.
As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back —
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.
The two volumes that make up what we today think of as The Jungle Book were written during a period of his adult years when he lived in the United States. It was first published in 1894. The title is most associated with the stories of Mowgli, an abandoned boy who grows up in the jungle and is raised by animals. Not all the stories feature Mowgli, for example, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi is the story of a mongoose who saves a family by defeating two cobras. Many elements of the stories come from Indian fables, such as those of the Panchatantra, which you may recall from our conversations about fairy tales and fables as a collection of virtue stories featuring anthropomorphized animals.
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Kipling wrote from a colonialist perspective, and his reputation has been as an unapologetic believer in colonialism as a system. Both as a person and through the popularity of his writing he came to signify the quintessential Imperial writer. Most famously, this is seen in his poem, “The White Man’s Burden,” from which the phrase comes. This is the first stanza:
Take up the White Man’s burden—
“The White Man’s Burden” 1899
Send forth the best ye breed—
Go, bind your sons to exile
To serve your captives’ need;
To wait, in heavy harness,
On fluttered folk and wild—
Your new-caught sullen peoples,
Half devil and half child.
The poem was published at the same time as the Philippine-American War (1899-1902) and was seen as an encouragement of the U.S. annexation of the Philippines. Kipling’s pro-Imperial stance and how that can be interpreted in his literary writings have generally been taken as a given and is a large part of why he fell out of favor. Some scholars, however, have pointed to a certain amount of irony and warning that appear in this poem and other works about imperialism, arguing that there is more complexity to his thinking. Whatever may be, his reputation suffered in later years, and today, many people are unfamiliar with his work. Without a doubt, however, for many of his contemporary writers and other writers of the 20th century, he was a deeply influential literary figure, particularly based on his works for children. Neil Gaiman, who we met previously, wrote The Graveyard Book as something in between an adaptation and a homage to Kipling.
Just So Stories
In 1902, Kipling published another story collection, the Just So Stories, featuring short humorous stories about the characteristics of animals or early humans, including “How the Leopard Got its Spots” and “The Elephant Child” about how the elephant got its trunk. [Spoiler: curiosity and an alligator] Much like Carroll and Barrie, Kipling started what became these stories through bedtime tales he told his daughter, who insisted that they be told “just so.”
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Rudyard Kipling, “How the Elephant Got its Hump” Just So Stories, 1902
NOW this is the next tale, and it tells how the Camel got his big hump.
In the beginning of years, when the world was so new and all, and the Animals were just beginning to work for Man, there was a Camel, and he lived in the middle of a Howling Desert because he did not want to work; and besides, he was a Howler himself. So he ate sticks and thorns and tamarisks and milkweed and prickles, most ‘scruciating idle; and when anybody spoke to him he said ‘Humph!’ Just ‘Humph!’ and no more.
Presently the Horse came to him on Monday morning, with a saddle on his back and a bit in his mouth, and said, ‘Camel, O Camel, come out and trot like the rest of us.’
‘Humph!’ said the Camel; and the Horse went away and told the Man.
Presently the Dog came to him, with a stick in his mouth, and said, ‘Camel, O Camel, come and fetch and carry like the rest of us.’
‘Humph!’ said the Camel; and the Dog went away and told the Man.
Presently the Ox came to him, with the yoke on his neck and said, ‘Camel, O Camel, come and plough like the rest of us.’
‘Humph!’ said the Camel; and the Ox went away and told the Man.
At the end of the day the Man called the Horse and the Dog and the Ox together, and said, ‘Three, O Three, I’m very sorry for you (with the world so new-and-all); but that Humph-thing in the Desert can’t work, or he would have been here by now, so I am going to leave him alone, and you must work double-time to make up for it.’
That made the Three very angry (with the world so new-and-all), and they held a palaver, and an indaba, and a punchayet, and a pow-wow on the edge of the Desert; and the Camel came chewing on milkweed most ‘scruciating idle, and laughed at them. Then he said ‘Humph!’ and went away again.
Presently there came along the Djinn in charge of All Deserts, rolling in a cloud of dust (Djinns always travel that way because it is Magic), and he stopped to palaver and pow-pow with the Three.
‘Djinn of All Deserts,’ said the Horse, ‘is it right for any one to be idle, with the world so new-and-all?’
‘Certainly not,’ said the Djinn.
‘Well,’ said the Horse, ‘there’s a thing in the middle of your Howling Desert (and he’s a Howler himself) with a long neck and long legs, and he hasn’t done a stroke of work since Monday morning. He won’t trot.’
‘Whew!’ said the Djinn, whistling, ‘that’s my Camel, for all the gold in Arabia! What does he say about it?’
‘He says “Humph!”’ said the Dog; ‘and he won’t fetch and carry.’
‘Does he say anything else?’
‘Only “Humph!”; and he won’t plough,’ said the Ox.
‘Very good,’ said the Djinn. ‘I’ll humph him if you will kindly wait a minute.’
The Djinn rolled himself up in his dust-cloak, and took a bearing across the desert, and found the Camel most ‘scruciatingly idle, looking at his own reflection in a pool of water.
‘My long and bubbling friend,’ said the Djinn, ‘what’s this I hear of your doing no work, with the world so new-and-all?’
‘Humph!’ said the Camel.
The Djinn sat down, with his chin in his hand, and began to think a Great Magic, while the Camel looked at his own reflection in the pool of water.
‘You’ve given the Three extra work ever since Monday morning, all on account of your ‘scruciating idleness,’ said the Djinn; and he went on thinking Magics, with his chin in his hand.
‘Humph!’ said the Camel.
‘I shouldn’t say that again if I were you,’ said the Djinn; you might say it once too often. Bubbles, I want you to work.’
And the Camel said ‘Humph!’ again; but no sooner had he said it than he saw his back, that he was so proud of, puffing up and puffing up into a great big lolloping humph.
‘Do you see that?’ said the Djinn. ‘That’s your very own humph that you’ve brought upon your very own self by not working. To-day is Thursday, and you’ve done no work since Monday, when the work began. Now you are going to work.’
‘How can I,’ said the Camel, ‘with this humph on my back?’
‘That’s made a-purpose,’ said the Djinn, ‘all because you missed those three days. You will be able to work now for three days without eating, because you can live on your humph; and don’t you ever say I never did anything for you. Come out of the Desert and go to the Three, and behave. Humph yourself!’
And the Camel humphed himself, humph and all, and went away to join the Three. And from that day to this the Camel always wears a humph (we call it ‘hump’ now, not to hurt his feelings); but he has never yet caught up with the three days that he missed at the beginning of the world, and he has never yet learned how to behave.
THE Camel’s hump is an ugly lump
Which well you may see at the Zoo;
But uglier yet is the hump we get
From having too little to do.
Kiddies and grown-ups too-oo-oo,
If we haven’t enough to do-oo-oo,
We get the hump—
Cameelious hump—
The hump that is black and blue!
We climb out of bed with a frouzly head
And a snarly-yarly voice.
We shiver and scowl and we grunt and we growl
At our bath and our boots and our toys;
And there ought to be a corner for me
(And I know there is one for you)
When we get the hump—
Cameelious hump—
The hump that is black and blue!
The cure for this ill is not to sit still,
Or frowst with a book by the fire;
But to take a large hoe and a shovel also,
And dig till you gently perspire;
And then you will find that the sun and the wind.
And the Djinn of the Garden too,
Have lifted the hump—
The horrible hump—
The hump that is black and blue!
I get it as well as you-oo-oo—
If I haven’t enough to do-oo-oo—
We all get hump—
Cameelious hump—
Kiddies and grown-ups too!
Did you find this short story enjoyable? Can you imagine a child would? What if it were written in more modern language?
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