American Notes

by Rudyard Kipling
Introduction

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."

Six months previous to this Mr. Kipling, then but twenty-four
years old, had arrived in England from India to find that 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 various
other stories and verses, had stamped him for a genius.

Fortunately for everybody who reads, London interested and
stimulated Mr. Kipling, and he settled down to writing. "The

Record of Badalia Herodsfoot," and his first novel, "The Light
that Failed," appeared in 1890 and 1891; then a collection of

verse, "Life's Handicap, being stories of Mine Own People," 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 Wolcott Balestier, at

that time connected with a London publishing house. A strong
attachment grew between the two, and several months after their

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 an
American magazine for a story. The following year Mr. Kipling

married Mr. Balestier's sister in London and brought her to
America.

The Balestiers were of an aristocratic New York family; the
grandfather of Mrs. Kipling was J. M. Balestier, a prominent

lawyer in New York City and Chicago, who died in 1888, leaving a
fortune of about a million. Her maternal grand-father was E.

Peshine Smith of Rochester, N. Y., a noted author and jurist, who
was selected in 1871 by Secretary Hamilton Fish to go to Japan as

the Mikado's adviser in international law. The ancestral home of
the Balestiers was near Brattleboro', Vt., and here Mr. Kipling

brought his bride. The young Englishman was so impressed by the
Vermont scenery that he rented for a time the cottage on the

"Bliss Farm," in which Steele Mackaye the playwright wrote the
well known drama "Hazel Kirke."

The next spring Mr. Kipling purchased from his brother-in-law,
Beatty Balestier, a tract of land about three miles north of

Brattleboro', Vt., and on this erected a house at a cost of
nearly $50,000, which he named "The Naulahka." This was his home

during his sojourn in America. Here he wrote when in the mood,
and for recreation tramped abroad over the hills. His social

duties at this period were not arduous, for to his home he
refused admittance to all but tried friends. He made a study of

the Yankee country dialect and character for "The Walking
Delegate," and while "Captains Courageous," the story of New

England fisher life, was before him he spent some time among the
Gloucester fishermen with an acquaint-ance who had access to the

household gods of these people.
He returned to England in August, 1896, and did not visit America

again till 1899, when he came with his wife and three children
for a limited time.

It is hardly fair to Mr. Kipling to call "American Notes" first
impressions, for one reading them will readily see that the

impressions are superficial, little thought being put upon the
writing. They seem super-sarcastic, and would lead one to

believe that Mr. Kipling is antagonistic to America in every
respect. This, however, is not true. These "Notes" aroused much

protest and severecriticism when they appeared in 1891, and are
considered so far beneath Mr. Kipling's real work that they have

been nearly suppressed and are rarely found in a list of his
writings. Their very caustic style is of interest to a student

and lover of Kipling, and for this reason the publishers believe
them worthy of a good binding.

G. P. T.
Contents

AT THE GOLDEN GATE
AMERICAN POLITICS

AMERICAN SALMON
THE YELLOWSTONE

CHICAGO
THE AMERICAN ARMY

AMERICA'S DEFENCELESS COASTS
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 great city of San

Francisco, and for the past fortnight I have been wondering what
made him do it.

There is neither serenity nor indifference to be found in these
parts; and evil would it be for the continents whose wardship

were intrusted to so reckless a guardian.
Behold me pitched neck-and-crop from twenty days of the high seas

into the whirl of California, deprived of any guidance, and left
to draw my own conclusions. Protect me from the wrath of an

outraged community if these letters be ever read by American
eyes! San Francisco is a mad city--inhabited for the most part

by perfectlyinsane people, whose women are of a remarkable
beauty.

When the "City of Pekin" steamed through the Golden Gate, I saw
with great joy that the block-house which guarded the mouth of

the "finest harbor in the world, sir," could be silenced by two
gunboats from Hong Kong with safety, comfort, and despatch.

Also, there was not a single American vessel of war in the
harbor.

This may sound bloodthirsty; but remember, I had come with a
grievance upon me--the grievance of the pirated English books.

Then a reporter leaped aboard, and ere I could gasp held me in
his toils. He pumped me exhaustively while I was getting ashore,

demanding of all things in the world news about Indian
journalism. It is an awful thing to enter a new land with a new

lie on your lips. I spoke the truth to the evil-minded Custom
House man who turned my most sacredraiment on a floor com-posed

of stable refuse and pine splinters; but the reporter overwhelmed
me not so much by his poignant audacity as his beautiful

ignorance. I am sorry now that I did not tell him more lies as
I passed into a city of three hundred thousand white men. Think

of it! Three hundred thou-sand white men and women gathered in
one spot, walking upon real pavements in front of

plate-glass-windowed shops, and talking something that at first
hearing was not very different from English. It was only when I

had tangled myself up in a hopeless maze of small wooden houses,
dust, street refuse, and children who played with empty kerosene

tins, that I discovered the difference of speech.
"You want to go to the Palace Hotel?" said an affable 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 to corner of Geary

and Markey, then walk around till you strike corner of Gutter and
Sixteenth, and that brings you there."

I do not vouch for the literal accuracy of these directions,
quoting but from a disordered memory.

"Amen," I said. "But who am I that I should strike the corners