Born in British India in 1865, Rudyard Kipling was educated in England
before returning to India in 1882, where his father was a museum director
and authority on Indian arts and crafts. Thus Kipling was thoroughly
immersed in Indian culture: by 1890 he had published in English about 80
stories and ballads previously unknown outside India. As a result of
financial misfortune, from 1892-96 he and his wife, the daughter of an
American publisher, lived in Vermont, where he wrote the two
Jungle Books. After returning to England, he published "The White
Man's Burden" in 1899, an appeal to the United States to assume the task of
developing the Philippines, recently won in the Spanish-American War. As a
writer, Kipling perhaps lived too long: by the time of his death in 1936, he
had come to be reviled as the poet of British imperialism, though being
regarded as a beloved children's book author. Today he might yet gain
appreciation as a transmitter of Indian culture to the West.
What is it today's reader finds so repugnant about Kipling's poem? If
you were a citizen of a colonized territory, how would you respond to
Kipling?
Take up the White Man's burden--
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.
Take up the White Man's burden--
In patience to abide,
To veil the threat of terror
And check the show of pride;
By open speech and simple,
An hundred times made plain
To seek another's profit,
And work another's gain.
Take up the White Man's burden--
The savage wars of peace--
Fill full the mouth of Famine
And bid the sickness cease;
And when your goal is nearest
The end for others sought,
Watch sloth and heathen Folly
Bring all your hopes to nought.
Take up the White Man's burden--
No tawdry rule of kings,
But toil of serf and sweeper--
The tale of common things.
The ports ye shall not enter,
The roads ye shall not tread,
Go mark them with your living,
And mark them with your dead.
Take up the White Man's burden--
And reap his old reward:
The blame of those ye better,
The hate of those ye guard--
The cry of hosts ye humour
(Ah, slowly!) toward the light:--
"Why brought he us from bondage,
Our loved Egyptian night?"
Take up the White Man's burden--
Ye dare not stoop to less--
Nor call too loud on Freedom
To
cloke (1) your weariness;
By all ye cry or whisper,
By all ye leave or do,
The silent, sullen peoples
Shall weigh your gods and you.
Take up the White Man's burden--
Have done with childish days--
The lightly proferred
laurel, (2)
The easy, ungrudged praise.
Comes now, to search your manhood
Through all the thankless years
Cold, edged with dear-bought wisdom,
The judgment of your peers!
(1)
Cloak, cover.
(2) Since the days of Classical Greece, a laurel wreath has
been a symbolic victory prize.
http://www.wsu.edu:8080/~wldciv/world_civ_reader/world_civ_reader_2/kipling.html
The Public 2 (May 13, 1899).
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"Take up the white man's burden,"-- "Take up the white man's burden,"-- "Take up the white man's burden,"-- "Take up the white man's burden,"-- "Take up the white man's burden,"-- "Take up the white man's burden,"-- "Take up the white man's burden,"-- |
THE
YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER---Kipling
When the 'arf-made
recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier ~OF~ the Queen!
Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .
First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts --
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts --
An' it's bad for the young British soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .
When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt --
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
An' it crumples the young British soldier.
Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .
But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You ~must~ wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .
If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .
Now, if you must marry, take care she is old --
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .
If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! --
Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both,
An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .
When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .
When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich,
An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .
When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o' the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine,
For noise never startles the soldier.
Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .
If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen!
The Public 7 (May 21, 1904).
From an article on "Hawaii and the Philippines," written by Sixto Lopez and Thomas T. Patterson for the Springfield Republican, and published in the Weekly Republican of May 6, 1904.
The charge is that "the Filipinos will not work." The sentence is not complete; it should read: "The Filipinos will not work for foreigners." That is to say, they will not work for the vampire, and the wolf whose sole intent is to amass wealth by the labor of others.
This is a fact of which every Filipino ought to be proud, for it places the Filipinos in marked contrast with all the peoples of the East, excepting Japan where a similar condition is found.
In India and China and in other eastern countries the "white man's burden" consists in making colossal fortunes out of the inadequately paid labor of the brown man.
But the Filipinos and the Japanese will not "take up the white man's burden"; they prefer to let the white man carry it himself, and hence his complaint.
The Hawaiian, the Indian and even the shrewd Chinaman are deceived by the professions of those who declare that "it is all for the brown man's benefit." But the Filipino knows that unless this "philanthropy" promises to yield 50 or 100 percent profit it will never be put into practice.
The Filipino, in short, will not slave for the benefit of foreigners any more than will the American or the Englishman or Mr. Kipling; nor will he barter his substance for rum, and so the white man finds when he takes rum to the Philippines he has to drink it himself!
That is what is now taking place in the once temperate city of Manila. Rum -- using the word in its generic sense -- is the only kind of trade that "follows the flag," and those who carry the flag have to drink the trade!
Sixto Lopez was secretary of the Philippine mission sent to the United States in 1898 to negotiate U.S. recognition of Philippine independence. When war broke out, this delegation left the country but Lopez returned to the United States in 1900 as the guest of Fiske Warren, an officer of the New England Anti-Imperialist League, and he made extensive speaking tours and published numerous articles in the U.S. press urging independence. Sixto Lopez remained in exile for many years because he refused to take the pledge of allegiance to the United States that was required for entrance into the Philippines. Thomas T. Patterson, an Australian, was his translator and secretary.
http://elections.harpweek.com/1900/cartoons-1900f.asp?UniqueID=39&Year=1900
Letters from the Front: An Insight into the Filipino-American War
The cable news has kept the
home folks fully informed as to the progress of this "goo-goo" hunt, so it is
unnecessary to recount any details of battles. The cruelties of Spain toward
these people have been fully discussed, but if the thing were written up by a
recent arrival here, he would make a tale just as harrowing. But the old boys
will say that no cruelty is too severe for these brainless monkeys, who can
appreciate no sense of honor, kindness, or justice.... With an enemy like this
to fight, it is not surprising that the boys should soon adopt "no quarter" as a
motto, and fill the blacks full of lead before finding out whether or not they
are friends or enemies.
--A private in the Utah Battery
It is generally believed by
the men "that we have got the worst of the bargain." ... It will be necessary to
keep a standing army there, and the men deteriorate morally and physically under
the influences of the people and the climate.
--C. B. Hollingsworth, of the Tenth Pennsylvania
We sleep all day here, as we
do our duty all night, walking the streets. We make every one get into his house
by 7 p.m., and we only tell a man once. If he refuses, we shoot him. We killed
over three hundred men the first night. They tried to set the town on fire. If
they fire a shot from a house, we burn the house down, and every house near it,
and shoot the natives; so they are pretty quiet in town now.
--A Corporal in the California Regiment
The building had been taken
possession of by a United States officer, and he looted it to a finish. I
suspected something and followed one of his men to the place. I expected to be
jumped on by the officer as soon as I found him there, as I was away from my
post, but it seems he was afraid I would give him away; in fact, we were both
afraid of each other. He was half drunk, and every time he saw me looking at
anything he would say, "Tennessee, do you like that? Well, put it in your
pocket." ... The house was a fine one, and richly furnished, but had been looted
to a finish. The contents of every drawer had been emptied on the floor. You
have no idea what a mania for destruction the average man has when the fear of
the law is removed. I have seen them -- old sober business men too -- knock
chandeliers and plate-glass mirrors to pieces just because they couldn't carry
it off. It is such a pity.
--D. M. Mickle, Tennessee Regiment, at Iloilo
All of the country around
here is just "lousy" with "niggers." To the right of us is the lake. About seven
miles away, to the north and east, is the little town of Marquina, which will
soon have to be taken. As it is the birthplace of Pio del Pilar, one of "Aggie's"
great generals, we expect quite a fight.... We are not nearly as anxious to
fight these people as some people may think we are, and we do not enter any of
the fights with the same spirit we did when fighting the Spaniards.
--James A. Reid, a Colorado Volunteer
They will never surrender
until their whole race is exterminated. They are fighting for a good cause, and
the Americans should be the last of all nations to transgress upon such rights.
Their independence is dearer to them than life, as ours was in years gone by,
and is today.
--Ellis G. Davis, Company A, Twentieth Kansas
Some think the insurgents
are disheartened, but I think they will make a desperate struggle for what they
consider their rights. I do not approve of the course our government is pursuing
with these people. If all men are created equal, they have some rights which
ought to be respected.
--J. E. Fetterly, a Nebraska soldier
http://www.boondocksnet.com/stereo/parlor_intro.html (check out this site and the links for more information)
Here’s an excerpt from Twain’s essay, To the Person Sitting in Darkness:
Our case is simple. On the 1st of May, Dewey destroyed the Spanish fleet. This left the Archipelago in the hands of its proper and rightful owners, the Filipino nation. Their army numbered 30,000 men, and they were competent to whip out or starve out the little Spanish garrison; then the people could set up a government of their own devising. Our traditions required that Dewey should now set up his warning sign, and go away. But the Master of the Game happened to think of another plan—the European plan. He acted upon it. This was, to send out an army—ostensibly to help the native patriots put the finishing touch upon their long and plucky struggle for independence, but really to take their land away from them and keep it. That is, in the interest of Progress and Civilization. The plan developed, stage by stage, and quite satisfactorily. We entered into a military alliance with the trusting Filipinos, and they hemmed in Manila on the land side, and by their valuable help the place, with its garrison of 8,000 or 10,000 Spaniards, was captured—a thing which we could not have accomplished unaided at that time. We got their help—by ingenuity. We knew they were fighting for their independence, and that they had been at it for two years. We knew they supposed that we also were fighting in their worthy cause—just as we had helped the Cubans fight for Cuban independence—and we allowed them to go on thinking so. Until Manila was ours and we could get along without them. Then we showed our hand. Of course, they were surprised—that was natural; surprised and disappointed; disappointed and grieved. To them it looked un-American; uncharacteristic; foreign to our established traditions. And this was natural, too; for we were only playing the American Game in public—in private it was European. It was neatly done, very neatly, and it bewildered them. They could not understand it; for we had been so friendly—so affectionate, even—with those simple-minded patriots! We, our own selves, had brought back out of exile their leader, their hero, their hope, their Washington —Aguinaldo; brought him in a warship, in high honor, under the sacred shelter and hospitality of the flag; brought him back and restored him to his people, and got their moving and eloquent gratitude for it. Yes, we had been so friendly to them, and had heartened them up so many ways! We had lent them guns and ammunition; advised with them; exchanged pleasant courtesies with them; placed our sick and wounded in their kindly care; entrusted our Spanish prisoners to their humane and honest hands; fought shoulder to shoulder with them against “the common enemy” (our own phrase); praised their courage, praised their gallantry, praised their mercifulness, praised their fine and honorable conduct; borrowed their trenches, borrowed strong positions which they had previously captured from the Spaniards; petted them, lied to them—officially proclaiming that our land and naval forces came to give them their freedom and displace the bad Spanish Government—fooled them, used them until we needed them no longer; then derided the sucked orange and threw it away. We kept the positions which we had beguiled them of; by and by, we moved a force forward and overlapped patriot ground—a clever thought, for we needed trouble, and this would produce it. A Filipino soldier, crossing the ground, where no one had a right to forbid him, was shot by our sentry. The badgered patriots resented this with arms, without waiting to know whether Aguinaldo, who was absent, would approve or not. Aguinaldo did not approve; but that availed nothing. What we wanted, in the interest of Progress and Civilization, was the Archipelago, unencumbered by patriots struggling for independence; and War was what we needed. We clinched our opportunity. It is Mr. Chamberlain’s case over again—at least in its motive and intention; and we played the game as adroitly as he played it himself.