Concerning Animals and Other Matters

In Short

This collection of essays offers a window into the natural history and social fabric of India at the turn of the 20th century. Through sharp, often humorous observations, the author examines everything from the anatomical quirks of elephants and flamingos to the domestic habits of village servants and the linguistic roots of colonial slang. It is a work of "naturalist" writing in the broadest sense—concerned equally with the behavior of birds and the customs of men—that endures for its clear-eyed, unsentimental, and deeply humane perspective on an unfamiliar world.

The Story

The narrative begins with an exploration of the physical world, treating the anatomy of animals as a series of evolutionary puzzles. The author moves through the jungle and the bungalow, meticulously dissecting why certain creatures possess specific features. We learn of the "ridiculous" feet of sea-lions, the specialized, strainer-like bills of flamingos, and the surprising intelligence behind an elephant’s ear. These observations serve as a bridge to a broader philosophical argument: that all living things are driven by a necessity for self-manifestation, whether through the wag of a dog’s tail or the survival instincts of a rat.

As the focus shifts from the wild to the domestic, the book documents the rhythms of life in Western India. The author turns his attention to the human inhabitants of the bungalow and the surrounding landscape—servants, toddy-drawers, and peasants. He describes the daily tasks of the Bhundaree, who climbs palm trees for sap with the ease of a primate, and the idyllic, Edenic beauty of the betel nut garden. Yet, this appreciation is tempered by a cold, analytical look at the economic and social realities of the region. He discusses the "chronic poverty" of the Indian peasant, attributing it to a lack of industrial drive and a tendency toward impulsive, extravagant spending when cash is briefly available.

The arc concludes by grounding these observations in the shared history between India and the West. The author explores how the two cultures have collided and bled into one another, particularly through language and social hierarchy. He traces the history of the Brahmin and the Purbhoo, explaining how colonial bureaucracy reshaped ancient caste dynamics. He ends by demystifying the linguistic relics of this era, revealing the Eastern origins of common English words like "punch," "toddy," and "caste." By the final page, the reader has moved from the simple anatomy of a bird to the complex, often messy, legacy of the British presence in India. The author offers no grand synthesis, but leaves us with a heightened sensitivity to the discord and harmony in the world, urging us to look past our own biases to see the "music of the Eternal Righteousness" in the mundane.

How It Unfolds

The anatomy of adaptation The book opens with an investigation into the evolutionary history of feet, tracing their journey from land to water. The author uses this as a launching pad to discuss how creatures like seals and porpoises have adapted their bodies to their environments.

The mechanics of emotion Moving into animal behavior, the author argues that the tail serves as a vital "safety-valve of passion" for the animal kingdom. He illustrates this with vivid scenes of cats watching mice and dogs posturing before rivals.

The elephant as a rajah The author challenges common scientific theories about the elephant’s large ears by observing the animal in its natural state. He concludes that the ears are simply fans for cooling and fly-swatting, framing the elephant as a dignified local authority.

The domestic and social life The middle chapters transition to the human world, detailing the lives of domestic servants and specialized laborers. The author provides a candid, albeit period-specific, look at the caste system and the economic habits of the rural population.

The final synthesis The book closes with an etymological and historical survey of the cultural exchanges between the East and West. It connects the natural world discussed at the start to the linguistic and political realities of his own colonial experience.

The People

The book is populated by a cast of archetypes rather than traditional characters, representing the various strata of colonial Indian life. The author, who acts as the primary voice, is a man of "earnest effort," seeking to understand the world through patient observation rather than distant theory. He is joined by the figures he encounters: the "intelligent Havildar," who applies practical logic to a snake bite, and the "good Nagoo," the snake-charmer who navigates the superstitions and fears of his employers.

The social structure is anchored by the Brahmin, described as a "blister" or a "Cardinal Wolsey" in the state—a man of intellect and diplomatic power. Contrasting him is the humble Purbhoo, the "quill-driver" who rose to prominence through the colonial administration. These individuals, along with the "harassed mem-sahib" and the "dusky, sinewy" toddy-drawer, serve as mirrors for the author’s observations on human nature. They are not heroes or villains, but products of their environment—men and women whose actions are dictated by necessity, tradition, and the pressures of a changing world.

In Its Own Voice

The rat is a near relation of the squirrel zoologically but personally he is a gutter-snipe, and you may know that by one look at the tail, which he drags after him like a dirty rope.

(Describing the common rat’s unappealing nature.)

A bold attempt to grow in the case of a tapir.

(A caption noting the evolutionary struggle evident in animal features.)

At the sight of a rival the dog holds its tail up stiffly, unless, indeed, the rival is a bigger dog than itself, in which case the index goes down quickly between the legs.

(Illustrating how the tail acts as a barometer for animal emotion.)

What It's Really About

At its heart, this book is an argument for the validity of direct, patient observation over academic abstraction. The author is deeply skeptical of "high science" when it fails to account for the actual, lived experience of creatures and people. He asks how we can truly know the world if we do not engage with the intimate, often unglamorous details of how things move, eat, and suffer. The book also grapples with the concept of "the Eternal Righteousness"—the idea that beneath the chaotic surface of life, there is an inherent order that we can perceive if we tune our own internal chords. It is a plea for empathy toward both the animal and the human "other," grounded in a belief that all sentient life is fundamentally connected.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the nature writing of Gerald Durrell or the sharp, observational essays of George Orwell will find much to admire here. The author possesses a warm, conversational style that makes the most technical descriptions of a flamingo’s bill or a coconut tree’s structure feel like a discovery shared between friends. He writes with a precision that honors the complexity of his subjects, refusing to simplify them for the sake of a tidy moral.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the author’s period-specific attitudes. His descriptions of Indian social life and the colonial administration are inseparable from the time in which he wrote, and some of his generalizations about the "native" character reflect the prejudices of a 19th-century British administrator. These passages are valuable not as objective truth, but as a record of the colonial mindset. If read with a critical eye, the book offers a fascinating, multi-layered portrait of a world that no longer exists. It is a rewarding experience for those who value the "smell of the country" in their prose and who enjoy a writer who is just as likely to quote the Song of Solomon as he is to describe the messiness of a chicken-based cure for snake venom.