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pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. In an issue of the London World in April, 1890, there appeared the following paragraph: "Two small rooms connected by a tiny hall afford sufficient space to contain Mr. Rudyard Kipling, the literary hero of the present hour, 'the man who came from nowhere, ' as he says himself, and who a year ago was consciously nothing in the literary world.

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	27 septembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819929949
Langue	English

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AMERICAN NOTES
by Rudyard Kipling
Introduction
In an issue of the London World in April, 1890,there appeared the following paragraph: “Two small rooms connectedby a tiny hall afford sufficient space to contain Mr. RudyardKipling, the literary hero of the present hour, 'the man who camefrom nowhere, ' as he says himself, and who a year ago wasconsciously nothing in the literary world. ”
Six months previous to this Mr. Kipling, then buttwenty-four years old, had arrived in England from India to findthat fame had preceded him. He had already gained fame in India,where scores of cultured and critical people, after reading“Departmental Ditties, ” “Plain Tales from the Hills, ” and variousother stories and verses, had stamped him for a genius.
Fortunately for everybody who reads, Londoninterested and stimulated Mr. Kipling, and he settled down towriting. “The Record of Badalia Herodsfoot, ” and his first novel,“The Light that Failed, ” appeared in 1890 and 1891; then acollection of verse, “Life's Handicap, being stories of Mine OwnPeople, ” was published simultaneously in London and New York City;then followed more verse, and so on through an unending series.
In 1891 Mr. Kipling met the young author WolcottBalestier, at that time connected with a London publishing house. Astrong attachment grew between the two, and several months aftertheir first meeting they came to Mr. Balestier's Vermont home,where they collaborated on “The Naulahka: A Story of West and East,” for which The Century paid the largest price ever given by anAmerican magazine for a story. The following year Mr. Kiplingmarried Mr. Balestier's sister in London and brought her toAmerica.
The Balestiers were of an aristocratic New Yorkfamily; the grandfather of Mrs. Kipling was J. M. Balestier, aprominent lawyer in New York City and Chicago, who died in 1888,leaving a fortune of about a million. Her maternal grandfather wasE. Peshine Smith of Rochester, N. Y. , a noted author and jurist,who was selected in 1871 by Secretary Hamilton Fish to go to Japanas the Mikado's adviser in international law. The ancestral home ofthe Balestiers was near Brattleboro', Vt. , and here Mr. Kiplingbrought his bride. The young Englishman was so impressed by theVermont scenery that he rented for a time the cottage on the “BlissFarm, ” in which Steele Mackaye the playwright wrote the well knowndrama “Hazel Kirke. ”
The next spring Mr. Kipling purchased from hisbrother-in-law, Beatty Balestier, a tract of land about three milesnorth of Brattleboro', Vt. , and on this erected a house at a costof nearly $50, 000, which he named “The Naulahka. ” This was hishome during his sojourn in America. Here he wrote when in the mood,and for recreation tramped abroad over the hills. His social dutiesat this period were not arduous, for to his home he refusedadmittance to all but tried friends. He made a study of the Yankeecountry dialect and character for “The Walking Delegate, ” andwhile “Captains Courageous, ” the story of New England fisher life,was before him he spent some time among the Gloucester fishermenwith an acquaintance who had access to the household gods of thesepeople.
He returned to England in August, 1896, and did notvisit America again till 1899, when he came with his wife and threechildren for a limited time.
It is hardly fair to Mr. Kipling to call “AmericanNotes” first impressions, for one reading them will readily seethat the impressions are superficial, little thought being put uponthe writing. They seem super-sarcastic, and would lead one tobelieve that Mr. Kipling is antagonistic to America in everyrespect. This, however, is not true. These “Notes” aroused muchprotest and severe criticism when they appeared in 1891, and areconsidered so far beneath Mr. Kipling's real work that they havebeen nearly suppressed and are rarely found in a list of hiswritings. Their very caustic style is of interest to a student andlover of Kipling, and for this reason the publishers believe themworthy of a good binding.
G. P. T.
I. AT THE GOLDEN GATE
"Serene, indifferent to fate,
Thou sittest at the Western Gate;
Thou seest the white seas fold their tents,
Oh, warder of two continents;
Thou drawest all things, small and great,
To thee, beside the Western Gate. "
THIS is what Bret Harte has written of the greatcity of San Francisco, and for the past fortnight I have beenwondering what made him do it.
There is neither serenity nor indifference to befound in these parts; and evil would it be for the continents whosewardship were intrusted to so reckless a guardian.
Behold me pitched neck-and-crop from twenty days ofthe high seas into the whirl of California, deprived of anyguidance, and left to draw my own conclusions. Protect me from thewrath of an outraged community if these letters be ever read byAmerican eyes! San Francisco is a mad city— inhabited for the mostpart by perfectly insane people, whose women are of a remarkablebeauty.
When the “City of Pekin” steamed through the GoldenGate, I saw with great joy that the block-house which guarded themouth of the “finest harbor in the world, sir, ” could be silencedby two gunboats from Hong Kong with safety, comfort, and despatch.Also, there was not a single American vessel of war in theharbor.
This may sound bloodthirsty; but remember, I hadcome with a grievance upon me— the grievance of the pirated Englishbooks.
Then a reporter leaped aboard, and ere I could gaspheld me in his toils. He pumped me exhaustively while I was gettingashore, demanding of all things in the world news about Indianjournalism. It is an awful thing to enter a new land with a new lieon your lips. I spoke the truth to the evil-minded Custom House manwho turned my most sacred raiment on a floor composed of stablerefuse and pine splinters; but the reporter overwhelmed me not somuch by his poignant audacity as his beautiful ignorance. I amsorry now that I did not tell him more lies as I passed into a cityof three hundred thousand white men. Think of it! Three hundredthousand white men and women gathered in one spot, walking uponreal pavements in front of plate-glass-windowed shops, and talkingsomething that at first hearing was not very different fromEnglish. It was only when I had tangled myself up in a hopelessmaze of small wooden houses, dust, street refuse, and children whoplayed with empty kerosene tins, that I discovered the differenceof speech.
“You want to go to the Palace Hotel? ” said anaffable youth on a dray. “What in hell are you doing here, then?This is about the lowest ward in the city. Go six blocks north tocorner of Geary and Markey, then walk around till you strike cornerof Gutter and Sixteenth, and that brings you there. ”
I do not vouch for the literal accuracy of thesedirections, quoting but from a disordered memory.
“Amen, ” I said. “But who am I that I should strikethe corners of such as you name? Peradventure they be gentlemen ofrepute, and might hit back. Bring it down to dots, my son. ”
I thought he would have smitten me, but he didn't.He explained that no one ever used the word “street, ” and thatevery one was supposed to know how the streets ran, for sometimesthe names were upon the lamps and sometimes they weren't. Fortifiedwith these directions, I proceeded till I found a mighty street,full of sumptuous buildings four and five stories high, but pavedwith rude cobblestones, after the fashion of the year 1.
Here a tram-car, without any visible means ofsupport, slid stealthily behind me and nearly struck me in theback. This was the famous cable car of San Francisco, which runs bygripping an endless wire rope sunk in the ground, and of which Iwill tell you more anon. A hundred yards further there was a slightcommotion in the street, a gathering together of three or four,something that glittered as it moved very swiftly. A ponderousIrish gentleman, with priest's cords in his hat and a smallnickel-plated badge on his fat bosom, emerged from the knotsupporting a Chinaman who had been stabbed in the eye and wasbleeding like a pig. The by-standers went their ways, and theChinaman, assisted by the policeman, his own. Of course this wasnone of my business, but I rather wanted to know what had happenedto the gentleman who had dealt the stab. It said a great deal forthe excellence of the municipal arrangement of the town that asurging crowd did not at once block the street to see what wasgoing forward. I was the sixth man and the last who assisted at theperformance, and my curiosity was six times the greatest. Indeed, Ifelt ashamed of showing it.
There were no more incidents till I reached thePalace Hotel, a seven-storied warren of humanity with a thousandrooms in it. All the travel books will tell you about hotelarrangements in this country. They should be seen to beappreciated. Understand clearly— and this letter is written after athousand miles of experiences— that money will not buy you servicein the West. When the hotel clerk— the man who awards your room toyou and who is supposed to give you information— when thatresplendent individual stoops to attend to your wants he does sowhistling or humming or picking his teeth, or pauses to conversewith some one he knows. These performances, I gather, are toimpress upon you that he is a free man and your equal. From hisgeneral appearance and the size of his diamonds he ought to be yoursuperior. There is no necessity for this swaggeringself-consciousness of freedom. Business is business, and the manwho is paid to attend to a man might reasonably devote his wholeattention to the job. Out of office hours he can take his coach andfour and pervade society if he pleases.
In a vast marble-paved hall, under the glare of anelectric light, sat forty or fifty men, and for their use andamusement were provided spittoons of infinite capacity and generousgape. Most of the men wore frock-coats and top-hats— the thingsthat we in India put on at a wedding-breakfast, if we poss