Kipling, Rudyard
(Bombay 1865-1936 London) : Schriftsteller, Dichter, Nobelpreisträger
Name Alternative(s)
Kipling, Joseph Rudyard
Subjects
Index of Names : Occident
/
Literature : Occident : Great Britain
Chronology Entries (5)
| # | Year | Text | Linked Data |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 1884-1937 |
Kipling, Rudyard. Works. 1884 Kipling, Rudyard. The gate of the hundred sorrows. In : Civil and military gazette ; September 26 1884). In : Kipling, Rudyard. Plain tales from the hills. (Calcutta : Thacker, Spink and Co. ; London : W. Thacker, 1888). [The Gate of the Hundred Sorrows follows one man's descent into the ethereal world of a Calcutta opium den and explores the surreal and surprising interactions between its eclectic clientele.] No; the old man knew his business thoroughly, and he was most clean for a Chinaman. He was a one-eyed little chap, not much more than five feet high, and both his middle fingers were gone. All the same, he was the handiest man at rolling black pills I have ever seen. Never seemed to be touched by the Smoke, either; and what he took day and night, night and day, was a caution. I've been at it five years, and I can do my fair share of the Smoke with any one; but I was a child to Fung-Tching that way. All the same, the old man was keen on his money: very keen; and that's what I can't understand. I heard he saved a good deal before he died, but his nephew has got all that now; and the old man's gone back to China to be buried… He had spent a good deal of his savings on that, and whenever a new man came to the Gate he was always introduced to it. It was lacquered black, with red and gold writings on it, and I've heard that Fung-Tching brought it out all the way from China… The old man would have died if that had happened in his time. Besides, the room is never cleaned, and all the mats are torn and cut at the edges. The coffin is gone--gone to China again--with the old man and two ounces of Smoke inside it, in case he should want 'em on the way… 1888 Kipling, Rudyard. In an Opium factory. In : Pioneer ; 16th April (1888). "But why are you so particular about the shell ?" Because of the China market. The Chinaman lokes every inch of the stuff we send him, and uses it. He boils the shell and gets out every grain of the lewa used to gum it together. He smokes that after he has dried it. 1888 Kipling, Rudyard. In black and white. (Allahabad : A.H. Wheeler, 1888). "Call up your beast", said the planter, and deesa shouted in the mysterious elephant-language, that some mahouts believe came from China at the birth of the world, when elephants and not men were masters… Pambé waited too ; but his Bombay wife grew clamorous, and he was forced to sign in the 'Spicheren' to Hongkong, because he realized that all play and no work gives Jack a ragged shirt. In the foggy China seas he thought a great deal of Nurkeed… 1888 Kipling, Rudyard. Under the deodars. (Allahabad : A.H. Wheeler, 1888). Trans-Asiatic Directs, we met, soberly ringing the world round the Fiftieth Meridian at an honest seventy knots; and white-painted Ackroyd & Hunt fruiters out of the south fled beneath us, their ventilated hulls whistling like Chinese kites… 1891 Kipling, Rudyard. American notes. (New York : M.J. Ivers, 1891). A ponderous Irish gentleman, with priest's cords in his hat and a small nickel-plated badge on his fat bosom, emerged from the knot supporting a Chinaman who had been stabbed in the eye and was bleeding like a pig. The by-standers went their ways, and the Chinaman, assisted by the policeman, his own… The Chinaman waylays his adversary, and methodically chops him to pieces with his hatchet. Then the press roars about the brutal ferocity of the pagan… But he is according to law a free and independent citizen--consequently above reproof or criticism. He, and he alone, in this insane city, will wait at table (the Chinaman doesn't count)… Only Chinamen were employed on the work, and they looked like blood-besmeared yellow devils as they crossed the rifts of sunlight that lay upon the floor. When our consignment arrived, the rough wooden boxes broke of themselves as they were dumped down under a jet of water, and the salmon burst out in a stream of quicksilver. A Chinaman jerked up a twenty-pounder, beheaded and detailed it with two swift strokes of a knife, flicked out its internal arrangements with a third, and case it into a blood-dyed tank. The headless fish leaped from under his hands as though they were facing a rapid. Other Chinamen pulled them from the vat and thrust them under a thing like a chaff-cutter, which, descending, hewed them into unseemly red gobbets fit for the can. More Chinamen, with yellow, crooked fingers, jammed the stuff into the cans, which slid down some marvellous machine forthwith, soldering their own tops as they passed. Each can was hastily tested for flaws, and then sunk with a hundred companions into a vat of boiling water, there to be half cooked for a few minutes… Our steamer only stayed twenty minutes at that place, but I counted two hundred and forty finished cans made from the catch of the previous night ere I left the slippery, blood-stained, scale-spangled, oily floors and the offal-smeared Chinamen… Yet there are other powers who are not "ohai band" (of the brotherhood)--China, for instance. Try to believe an irresponsible writer when he assures you that China's fleet to-day, if properly manned, could waft the entire American navy out of the water and into the blue… 1891 Kipling, Rudyard. The disturber of traffic. In : Atlantic monthly ; Sept. (1891). "I'm off", says the merchant skipper. "My ownders dont wish for me to watch illuminations. That strait's choked with wreck, and I shouldn't wonder if a typhoon hadn't driven half the junks o' China there." 1891 Kipling, Rudyard. Life's handicap : being stories of mine own people. (London : Macmillan, 1891). The wandering jew. By the extension of the Brahmaputra Valley line to meet the newly-developed China Midland, the Calais railway ticket held good via Karachi and Calcutta to Hongkong. The round trip could be managed in a fraction over forty-seven days, and, filled with fatal exultation, John Hay told the secret of his longevity to his only friend, the house-keeper of his rooms in London… The limitations of Pambe Serang. He was a Malay born in India: married once in Burma, where his wife had a cigar-shop on the Shwe Dagon road; once in Singapore, to a Chinese girl; and once in Madras, to a Mahomedan woman who sold fowls… In the foggy China seas he thought a great deal of Nurkeed, and, when Elsass-Lothringen steamers lay in port with the Spicheren, inquired after him and found he had gone to England via the Cape, on the Gravelotte…. Georgie Porgie. If you will admit that a man has no right to enter his drawing-room early in the morning, when the housemaid is setting things right and clearing away the dust, you will concede that civilised people who eat out of china and own card-cases have no right to apply their standard of right and wrong to an unsettled land… When the Government said that the Queen's Law must carry up to Bhamo and the Chinese border the order was given, and some men whose desire was to be ever a little in advance of the rush of Respectability flocked forward with the troops… The courting of Dinah Shadd. 'Wid that I tuk off my gloves--there was pipe-clay in thim, so that they stud alone--an' pulled up my chair, lookin' round at the china ornaments an' bits av things in the Shadds' quarters…. 1891 Kipling, Rudyard. The light that failed. In : Lippincott's monthly magazine ; Jan. (1891). Chap. 2. 'First the bloomin' rudder snaps,' said he to the world in general; 'then the mast goes; an' then, s' 'help me, when she can't do nothin' else, she opens 'erself out like a cock-eyes Chinese lotus.'… The young man produced more sketches. 'Row on a Chinese pig-boat,' said he, sententiously, showing them one after another… Chap. 4. Nothing will pay me for some of my life's joys; on that Chinese pig-boat, for instance, when we ate bread and jam for every meal, because Ho-Wang wouldn't allow us anything better, and it all tasted of pig,— Chinese pig… 'Don't see it. When I was on that Chinese pig-boat, our captain got credit for saving about twenty-five thousand very seasick little pigs, when our old tramp of a steamer fell foul of a timber-junk. Now, taking those pigs as a parallel'… Chap. 8. 'Wait a minute. She had been in the China passenger trade and her lower decks had bunks for two thousand pigtails… 1892 Kipling, Rudyard ; Balestier, Wolcott. The Naulahka : a story of West and East. (London : Heinmann, 1892). Chap. 6. He had purchased guns, dressing-cases, mirrors, mantelpiece ornaments, crochet work, the iridescent Chrismas-tree glass balls, saddlery, mail-phaetons, four-in-hands, scent-bottles, surgical instruments, chandeliers, and chinaware by the dozen, gross, or score as his royal fancy prompted… 1893 Kipling, Rudyard. Barrack room ballads and other verses. (London : Methuen, 1893). Kipling, Rudyard. Mandalay. MS 1890. In : Living English poets. (London : Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner, 1893). [Geschrieben 1890]. [Repetition in the last lines] : An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay! Kipling, Rudyard. Shillin' a day. My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore, Hong-Kong and Peshawur, Lucknow and Etawah, And fifty-five more all endin' in "pore"… 1895 Kipling, Rudyard. The brushwood boy. In : The century magazine ; Dec. (1895). Seeing the lily was labeled "Hong-Kong", Georgie said : "Of course. This is precisely what I expected Hong-Kong would be like. How magnificent ! " 1895 Kipling, Rudyard. An unqualified pilot. In : Windsor Magazine ; February (1895). He introduced Jim to a Chinaman in Muchuatollah, an unpleasing place in itself, and the Chinaman, who answered to the name of Erh-Tze, when he was not smoking opium, talked business in pigeon-English to Jim for an hour… The cargo of his junk was worth anything from seventy to a hundred and fifty thousand rupees, some of which he was getting as enormous freight on the coffins of thirty or forty dead Chinamen, whom he was taking to be buried in their native country. Rich Chinamen will pay fancy prices for this service, and they have a superstition that the iron of steamships is bad for the spiritual health of their dead… Going down “Garden Reach” he discovered that the junk would answer to her helm if you put it over far enough, and that she had a fair, though Chinese, notion of sailing. He took charge of the tiller by stationing three Chinese on each side of it, and standing a little forward, gathered their pigtails into his hands, three right and three left, as though they had been the yoke lines of a row-boat… 1896 Kipling, Rudyard. Of those called. (New York, N.Y. ; London : Macmillan, 1895). We were wallowing through the China Seas in a dense fog, the horn blowing every two minutes for the benefit of the fishery craft that crowded the waterways. From the bridge the fo’c’sle was invisible; from the hand-wheel at the stern the captain’s cabin. The fog held possession of everything—the pearly white fog… 1897 Kipling, Rudyard. Captains courageous. (London ; New York, N.Y. : Macmillan 1897). Ordinarily he would have accepted battle ere it was offered, and have waged a pleasant and unscrupulous campaign. But now he sat limply, his soft black hat pushed forward on to his nose, his big body shrunk inside his loose clothes, staring at his boots or the Chinese junks in the bay, and assenting absently to the secretary's questions as he opened the Saturday mail… Now they heard the swish of a water-tank, and the guttural voice of a Chinaman, the click-clink of hammers that tested the Krupp steel wheels, and the oath of a tramp chased off the rear-platform; now the solid crash of coal shot into the tender; and now a beating back of noises as they flew past a waiting train… Disko introduced them all in due form. The captain of an old-time Chinaman could have done no better, and Mrs. Cheyne babbled incoherently. She nearly threw herself into Manuel's arms when she understood that he had first found Harvey… 1897 Kipling, Rudyard. The feet of the young men. In : Scribner’s magazine ; December (1897). Introduction. Several months between the coast of China and the upper Yangtse in the latter part of 1910 added nothing permanent to my collection, but in the Philippine Archipelago, to which I fared next, luc was better… All along through the Malay States and Siam, and then up and down the Irrawadi, from Rangoon to Bhamo, on the Chinese border of Burma, and back, I was lured on to study after story of "The steaming stillness of the orchid-scented glade"... 1898 Kipling, Rudyard. The day's work.(London : Macmillan, 1898). The tomb of his ancestors. "Of course I do," said Chinn, who had the chronicle of the Book of Chinn by heart. It lies in a worn old ledger on the Chinese lacquer table behind the piano in the Devonshire home, and the children are allowed to look at it on Sundays… The devil and the deep sea. The man-of-war had towed them to the nearest port, not to the headquarters of the colony, and when Mr. Wardrop saw the dismal little harbour, with its ragged line of Chinese junks, its one crazy tug, and the boat-building shed that, under the charge of a philosophical Malay, represented a dockyard, he sighed and shook his head… "I don't understand it," said Mr. Wardrop. "Any Malay knows the use o' copper. They ought to have cut away the pipes. And with Chinese junks coming here, too. It's a special interposition o' Providence."… "Bread upon the waters". When the maid had removed the cloth she brought a pineapple that would have cost half a guinea at that season (only McPhee has his own way of getting such things), and a Canton china bowl of dried lichis, and a glass plate of preserved ginger, and a small jar of sacred and Imperial chow-chow that perfumed the room… 1898 Kipling, Rudyard. A fleet in being : notes of two trips with the Channel squardron. (London : Macmillan, 1898). I listened enchanted to weird yarns in which Chinese Mandarins, West Coast nigger Chiefs, Archimandrites, Turkish Pashas, Calabrian Counts, dignity balls, Chilian beachcombers, and all the queer people of the earth were mingled... 1899 Kipling, Rudyard. Letters of marque. (London : Edinburgh Society, 1899). The tower, in the arrangement of its stairways, is like the interior of a Chinese carved ivory puzzle-ball… Dresen China snuff-boxes, mechanical engines, electroplated fish-slicers, musical boxes, and gilt, blownglass, Christmas-Tree balls do not go well with splendours of a Palace that might have been built by Titans and coloured by the morning sun… 1899 Kipling, Rudyard. Many inventions. (London : Macmillan, 1899). The disturber of traffic. But a few weeks after that a couple of junks came shouldering through from the north, arm in arm, like junks go. It takes a good deal to make a Chinaman understand danger. They junks set well in the current, and went down the fairway, right among the buoys, ten knots an hour, blowing horns and banging tin pots all the time… '"I'm off," says the merchant skipper. "My owners don't wish for me to watch illuminations. That strait's choked with wreck, and I shouldn't wonder if a typhoon hadn't driven half the junks o' China there."… They knew from his mouth that he had committed evil on the deep waters,--that was what he told them,--and piracy, which no one does now except Chineses, was all they knew of… His private honour. I had just installed myself as Viceroy, and by virtue of my office had shipped four million sturdy thrifty natives to the Malayan Archipelago, where labour is always wanted and the Chinese pour in too quickly, when I became aware that things were not going smoothly with the half-company… 1899 Kipling, Rudyard. Stalky & Co. In : Pearson's, Windsor magazine, Cosmopolis magazines ; April 1897-July 1899. (London : Macmillan, 1899). Slaves of the lamp. The pantomime was to be given next week, in the down-stairs study occupied by Aladdin, Abanazar, and the Emperor of China… He has a china basket with blue ribbons and a pink kitten on it, hung up in his window to grow musk in… "When Stalky blows out his nostrils like a horse," said Aladdin to the Emperor of China, "he's on the war-path. 'Wonder what King will get."… "Hush, you ass!" hissed the Emperor of China. "Oh, he's gone down to prayers," said Beetle, watching the shadow of the house-master on the wall. "Rabbits-Eggs was only a bit drunk, swearin' at his horse, and King jawed him through the window, and then, of course, he rocked King."… 1901 Kipling, Rudyard. Kim. In : McClure's magazine ; December 1900-October 1901. In : Cassell's magazine ; January-November 1901.(London : Macmillan, 1901). [The story unfolds against the backdrop of The Great Game, the political conflict between Russia and Britain in Central Asia. It is set after the Second Afghan War which ended in 1881. Kim befriends an aged Tibetan Lama who is on a quest to free himself from the Wheel of Things by finding the legendary 'River of the Arrow'.] Chap. 1. [Lama's visit in the Lahore Museum] In open-mouthed wonder the lama turned to this and that, and finally checked in rapt attention before a large alto-relief representing a coronation or apotheosis of the Lord Buddha. The Master was represented seated on a lotus the petals of which were so deeply undercut as to show almost detached. Round Him was an adoring hierarchy of kings, elders, and old-time Buddhas. Below were lotus-covered waters with fishes and water-birds. Two butterfly-winged devas held a wreath over His head; above them another pair supported an umbrella surmounted by the jewelled headdress of the Bodhisat…. On his head was a gigantic sort of tam-o'-shanter. His face was yellow and wrinkled, like that of Fook Shing, the Chinese bootmaker in the bazar… 'Aha! Khitai [a Chinaman],' said Abdullah proudly. Fook Shing had once chased him out of his shop for spitting at the joss above the boots… The lama mounted a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles of Chinese work. 'Here is the little door through which we bring wood before winter. And thou--the English know of these things? He who is now Abbot of Lung-Cho told me, but I did not believe. The Lord—the Excellent One--He has honour here too?... He had heard of the travels of the Chinese pilgrims, Fu-Hiouen and Hwen-Tsiang, and was anxious to know if there was any translation of their record. He drew in his breath as he turned helplessly over the pages of Beal and Stanislas Julien. ''Tis all here. A treasure locked.' Then he composed himself reverently to listen to fragments hastily rendered into Urdu. For the first time he heard of the labours of European scholars, who by the help of these and a hundred other documents have identified the Holy Places of Buddhism… It was a piece of ancient design, Chinese, of an iron that is not smelted these days; and the collector's heart in the Curator's bosom had gone out to it from the first. For no persuasion would the lama resume his gift… The Curator would have detained him: they are few in the world who still have the secret of the conventional brush-pen Buddhist pictures which are, as it were, half written and half drawn. But the lama strode out, head high in air, and pausing an instant before the great statue of a Bodhisat in meditation, brushed through the turnstiles. Kim followed like a shadow. What he had overheard excited him wildly. This man was entirely new to all his experience, and he meant to investigate further, precisely as he would have investigated a new building or a strange festival in Lahore city. The lama was his trove, and he purposed to take possession. Kim's mother had been Irish, too… 'I beg. I remember now it is long since I have eaten or drunk. What is the custom of charity in this town? In silence, as we do of Tibet, or speaking aloud?' 'Those who beg in silence starve in silence,' said Kim, quoting a native proverb. The lama tried to rise, but sank back again, sighing for his disciple, dead in far-away Kulu. Kim watched head to one side, considering and interested… 'Allah! A lama! A Red Lama! It is far from Lahore to the Passes. What dost thou do here?' The lama held out the begging-bowl mechanically. 'God's curse on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub. 'I do not give to a lousy Tibetan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They may value your blessings. Oh, horseboys, here is a countryman of yours. See if he be hungry.' A shaven, crouching Balti, who had come down with the horses, and who was nominally some sort of degraded Buddhist, fawned upon the priest, and in thick gutturals besought the Holy One to sit at the horseboys' fire… Chap. 2. He began in Urdu the tale of the Lord Buddha, but, borne by his own thoughts, slid into Tibetan and long-droned texts from a Chinese book of the Buddha's life… The family priest, an old, tolerant Sarsut Brahmin, dropped in later, and naturally started a theological argument to impress the family. By creed, of course, they were all on their priest's side, but the lama was the guest and the novelty. His gentle kindliness, and his impressive Chinese quotations, that sounded like spells, delighted them hugely; and in this sympathetic, simple air, he expanded like the Bodhisat's own lotus, speaking of his life in the great hills of Such-zen, before, as he said, 'I rose up to seek enlightenment.'… The children of the house tugged unrebuked at his rosary; and he clean forgot the Rule which forbids looking at women as he talked of enduring snows, landslips, blocked passes, the remote cliffs where men find sapphires and turquoise, and that wonderful upland road that leads at last into Great China itself… Chap. 3. 'That is well said.' The lama was much impressed by the plan. 'We will begin tomorrow, and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such a near road.' A deep, sing-song Chinese half-chant closed the sentence… Chap. 4. The woman seemed to ask questions which the lama turned over in his mind before answering. Now and again he heard the singsong cadence of a Chinese quotation. It was a strange picture that Kim watched between drooped eyelids… Chap. 5. He quoted an old, old Chinese text, backed it with another, and reinforced these with a third. 'I stepped aside from the Way, my chela. It was no fault of thine… Chap. 6. 'At any rate, the old man has sent the money. Gobind Sahai's notes of hand are good from here to China,' said the Colonel… Chap. 8. Mahbub felt in his belt, wetted his thumb on a cake of Chinese ink, and dabbed the impression on a piece of soft native paper… Chap. 11. He drew from under the table a sheet of strangely scented yellow Chinese paper, the brushes, and slab of Indian ink… The lama, both hands raised, intoned a final blessing in ornate Chinese… 'I have, too, our drugs which loosen humours of the head in hot and angry men. Sina well compounded when the moon stands in the proper House; yellow earths I have--arplan from China that makes a man renew his youth and astonish his household; saffron from Kashmir, and the best salep of Kabul… Chap. 12. I sat down and cried, Mister O'Hara, anticipating Chinese tortures… Chap. 13. Theirs was an almost obliterated Buddhism, overlaid with a nature-worship fantastic as their own landscapes, elaborate as the terracing of their tiny fields; but they recognized the big hat, the clicking rosary, and the rare Chinese texts for great authority; and they respected the man beneath the hat… 1902 Kipling, Rudyard. The butterfly that stamped. In : Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). One day, when they had quarrelled for three weeks--all nine hundred and ninety-nine wives together--Suleiman-bin-Daoud went out for peace and quiet as usual; and among the orange trees he met Balkis the Most Beautiful, very sorrowful because Suleiman-bin-Daoud was so worried. And she said to him, 'O my Lord and Light of my Eyes, turn the ring upon your finger and show these Queens of Egypt and Mesopotamia and Persia and China that you are the great and terrible King.' But Suleiman-bin-Daoud shook his head and said, 'O my Lady and Delight of my Life, remember the Animal that came out of the sea and made me ashamed before all the animals in all the world because I showed off. Now, if I showed off before these Queens of Persia and Egypt and Abyssinia and China, merely because they worry me, I might be made even more ashamed than I have been.'… 1902 Kipling, Rudyard. China-going P. & O.'s. In : Kipling, Rudyard. The crab that played with the sea. In : Collier’s, August (1902). In : Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). CHINA-GOING P's and 0's Pass Pau Amma's playground close, And his Pusat Tasek lies Near the track of most B.I.'s. U.Y.K. and N.D.L. Know Pau Amma's home as well As the fisher of the Sea knows 'Bens,' M.M.'s, and Rubattinos. But (and this is rather queer) A.T.L.'s can not come here; O. and O. and D.O.A. Must go round another way. Orient, Anchor, Bibby, Hall, Never go that way at all. U.C.S. would have a fit If it found itself on it. And if 'Beavers' took their cargoes To Penang instead of Lagos, Or a fat Shaw-Savill bore Passengers to Singapore, Or a White Star were to try a Little trip to Sourabaya, Or a B.S.A. went on Past Natal to Cheribon, Then great Mr. Lloyds would come With a wire and drag them home! You'll know what my riddle means When you've eaten mangosteens… 1904 Kipling, Rudyard. The muse among the motors. (London : Daily Mail Publ. Office, 1904). Arterial : Early Chinese I FROST upon small rain — the ebony-lacquered avenue Reflecting lamps as a pool shows goldfish. The sight suddenly emptied out of the young man’s eyes Entering upon it sideways. II In youth, by hazard, I killed an old man. In age I maimed a little child. Dead leaves under foot reproach not: But the lop-sided cherry-branch — whenever the sun rises, How black a shadow! 1904 Kipling, Rudyard. Traffics and discoveries. (London : Macmillan, 1904). Pyecroft's back bent over the Berthon collapsible boat, while he drilled three men in expanding it swiftly; the outflung white water at the foot of a homeward-bound Chinaman not a hundred yards away, and her shadow-slashed, rope-purfled sails bulging sideways like insolent cheeks… "Those are the beggars we lie awake for, patrollin' the high seas. There ain't a port in China where we wouldn't be better treated. Yes, a Boxer 'ud be ashamed of it," said Pyecroft…. 1909 Kipling, Rudayrd. Abaft the funnel. (New York, N.Y. : Doubleday, 1909). In three minutes a bucket appeared on deck. It was covered with a wooden lid. "Think he have make die this time", said the Chinese sailor who carried the coffin, with a grin… He was on the ship before I joined her –that's seven years ago, when we were running up and down and around and about the China Seas… I was new to these waters, new to the Chinaman and his fascinating little ways, being a New England man by raisin. Erastasius was raised by the Devil. That's who his sire was. Never ran across his dam. Ran across a forsaken sea, though, int the 'Whanghoa', a little to the northeast of this, with eight hundred steerage passengers, all Chinamen, for various and undenominated ports… There were ten Americans, a couple of Danes and a half-caste knocking round the ship, and the crew were Chinese but most of 'em good Chinese. Only good Chinese I ever met… There was no talk of it for a forthnight. We spoke of latitude and longitude and the proper manufacture of sherry cobbler, while the steamer cut upon a glassy-smooth sea. Then we trned towards China and drank farewell to the nearer East. "We shall reach Hongkong without being it" said the nervous lady… The China seas are governed neither by wind nor calm. Deep down unter the sapphire waters sits a green and yellow devil who suffers from indigestion perpetually. When he is unwell he troubles the waters above with his twistings and writhings. Thus it happens that it is never calm in the China seas… "You may go ! You may go to Hongkong for me !" shouted half-a-dozen little waves together… 1909 Kipling, Rudyard. Actions and reactions. (London : Macmillan, 1909). "Black Chinese furniture and yellow silk brocade," she answered, and ran downhill… Trans-Asiatic Directs we met, soberly ringing the world round the Fiftieth Meridian at an honest seventy knots; and white-painted Ackroyd & Hunt fruiters out of the south fled beneath us, their ventilated hulls whistling like Chinese kites… 1910 Kipling, Rudyard. Rewards and fairies. (London : Macmillan, 1910). The sailor. In Blackwall Basin yesterday A China barque re-fitting lay, When a fat old man with snow-white hair Came up to watch us working there. 'A priest in spite of himself'. 'Say? I couldn't say a word. I sat choking and nodding like a China image while he wrote an order to his secretary to pay me, I won't say how much, because you wouldn't believe it… 1911 Kipling, Rudyard. Puck of Pook's hill. (London : Macmillan, 1911). 'Why, you look just like a Chinaman!' cried Dan. 'Was the man a Chinaman?'… 1917 Kipling, Rudyard. A diversity of creatures. (London : Macmillan, 1917). 'I maintain nothing. But is it any worse than your Chinese reiteration of uncomprehended syllables in a dead tongue? ' 'Dead, forsooth!' King fairly danced. 'The only living tongue on earth! Chinese! On my word, Hartopp!'… 'Absolutely and essentially Chinese,' said little Hartopp, who, alone of the common-room, refused to be outfaced by King. 'But I don't yet understand how Paddy came to be licked by Winton. Paddy's supposed to be something of a boxer.'… "Go and guard your blessed road," he says to the Fratton Orphan Asylum standing at attention all round him, and, when they was removed--"Pyecroft," he says, still _sotte voce_, "what in Hong-Kong are you doing with this dun-coloured _sampan_?"… 1918 Kipling, Rudyard. A flight of fact. In : Nash’s Magazine ; in : Pall Mall Magazine ; June (1918). There was a chap of that name about five years ago on the China Station. He had himself tattooed al! over, regardless, in Rangoon. Then he got as good as engaged to a woman in Hongkong—rich woman too. But the Pusser of his ship gave him away. He had a regular cinema of frogs and dragonflies up his legs. And that was only the beginnin’ of the show. So she broke off the engagement, and he half-killed the Pusser, and then he became a Buddhist, or something.”… 1920 Kipling, Rudyard. Letters of Travel (1892-1913). (London : Macmillan, 1920). Only the Chinaman washes the dirty linen of other lands… The speech of the Outside Men at this point becomes fearfully mixed with pidgin-English and local Chinese terms, rounded with corrupt Portuguese… Consuls and judges of the Consular Courts meet men over on leave from the China ports, or it may be Manila, and they all talk tea, silk, banking, and exchange with its fixed residents… And it must be prejudiced, because it is daily and hourly in contact with the Japanese, except when it can do business with the Chinaman whom it prefers. Was there ever so disgraceful a club!... The imaginative eye can see the most unpleasant possibilities, from a general overrunning of Japan by the Chinaman, who is far the most important foreign resident, to the shelling of Tokio by a joyous and bounding Democracy, anxious to vindicate her national honour and to learn how her newly-made navy works… The permanent residents are beginning to talk of hill places to go to for the hot weather, and all the available houses in the resort are let. In a little while the men from China will be coming over for their holidays, but just at present we are in the thick of the tea season, and there is no time to waste on frivolities… A knot of Chinamen were studying a closed door from whose further side came a most unpleasant sound of bolting and locking up. The notice on the door was interesting. With deep regret did the manager of the New Oriental Banking Corporation, Limited (most decidedly limited), announce that on telegraphic orders from home he had suspended payment. Said one Chinaman to another in pidgin-Japanese: 'It is shut,' and went away. The noise of barring up continued, the rain fell, and the notice stared down the wet street… Malays, Lascars, Hindus, Chinese, Japanese, Burmans—the whole gamut of racetints, from saffron to tar-black—are twisting and writhing round it, while their vermilion, cobalt, amber, and emerald turbans and head-cloths are lying underfoot. Pressed against the yellow ochre of the iron bulwarks to left and right are frightened women and children in turquoise and isabella-coloured clothes. They are half protected by mounds of upset bedding, straw mats, red lacquer boxes, and plaited bamboo trunks, mixed up with tin plates, brass and copper hukas , silver opium pipes, Chinese playing cards, and properties enough to drive half-a-dozen artists wild… A great stretch of that distance is as new as the day before yesterday, and strewn with townships in every stage of growth from the city of one round house, two log huts, and a Chinese camp somewhere in the foot-hills of the Selkirks, to Winnipeg with her league-long main street and her warring newspapers… The men won't get up and attend to these things, but we would. If we had female suffrage, we'd shut the door to all the Irish and throw it open to all the Chinese, and let the women have a little protection.'… If we could only manacle four hundred Members of Parliament, like the Chinese in the election cartoons, and walk them round the Empire, what an all-comprehending little Empire we should be when the survivors got home!... The teacher holds up pens, reels, and so forth, giving the name in English; the children repeating Chinese fashion… The Chinaman has always been in the habit of coming to British Columbia, where he makes, as he does elsewhere, the finest servant in the world. No one, I was assured on all hands, objects to the biddable Chinaman. He takes work which no white man in a new country will handle, and when kicked by the mean white will not grossly retaliate. He has always paid for the privilege of making his fortune on this wonderful coast, but with singular forethought and statesmanship, the popular Will, some few years ago, decided to double the head-tax on his entry. Strange as it may appear, the Chinaman now charges double for his services, and is scarce at that… Another man was a little more explicit. 'We desire,' he said, 'to keep the Chinaman. But the Japanese must go.'… 'Well, you can't expect a man with all the chances that our country offers him to milk cows in a pasture. A Chinaman can do that. We want races that will assimilate with ours,' etc., etc…. 'For political reasons, I believe. We do not want People who will lower the Standard of Living. That is why the Japanese must go.' 'Then why keep the Chinese? ' 'We can get on with the Chinese. We can't get on without the Chinese. But we must have Emigration of a Type that will assimilate with Our People. I hope I have made myself clear?'… A Chinaman costs fifty or sixty dollars a month now. Our husbands can't always afford that. How old would you take me for? I'm not thirty. Well thank God, I stopped my sister coming out West. Oh yes, it's a fine country—for men.' 'Can't you import servants from England?' 'I can't pay a girl's passage in order to have her married in three months. Besides, she wouldn't work. They won't when they see Chinamen working.' 'Do you object to the Japanese, too?' 'Of course not. No one does. It's only politics. The wives of the men who earn six and seven dollars a day—skilled labour they call it—have Chinese and Jap servants. We can't afford it. We have to think of saving for the future, but those other people live up to every cent they earn. They know they're all right. They're Labour. They'll be looked after, whatever happens. You can see how the State looks after me. A little later I had occasion to go through a great and beautiful city between six and seven of a crisp morning. Milk and fish, vegetables, etc., were being delivered to the silent houses by Chinese and Japanese. Not a single white man was visible on that chilly job… 1926 Kipling, Rudyard. Debits and credits : short stories. (London : Macmillan, 1926). The Janeites. Our Battery Sergeant Major nearly did. For Macklin had a wonderful way o' passing remarks on a man's civil life; an' he put it about that our B.S.M. had run a dope an' dolly-shop with a Chinese woman, the wrong end o' Southwark Bridge. Nothin' you could lay 'old of, o' course; but--' Humberstall let us draw our own conclusions. 'Not as a rule. I was then, though, or else Macklin knew 'ow to deliver the Charges properly. 'E said 'e'd been some sort o' schoolmaster once, and he'd make my mind resume work or break 'imself. That was just before the Battery Sergeant-Major 'ad it in for him on account o' what he'd been sayin' about the Chinese wife an' the dollyshop.'… The bull that thought. I gathered that he had spent much of his life in the French Colonial Service in Annam and Tonquin. When the war came, his years barring him from the front line, he had supervised Chinese wood-cutters who, with axe and dynamite, deforested the centre of France for trench-props. 1930 Kipling, Rudyard. Thy servant a dog : told by Boots. (London : Macmillan, 1930). The Commander told a tale of an ancient destroyer on the China station which, with three others of equal seniority, had been hurried over to the East Coast of England when the Navy called up her veterans for the War… 1932 Kipling, Rudyard. Limits and renewals : stories. (London : Macmillan, 1932). At any rate, in that hour, between them it was born. They went to a theatrical wigmaker and bought lavishly of grease-paints for Chinese, Red Indian, and Asiatic make-ups, as well as for clowns and corner- men… 1937 Kipling, Rudyard. Something of myself : for my friends known and unknown. (London : Macmillan, 1937). A servant, precisely because he is a servant, has his izzat--his honour--or, as the Chinese say, his 'face.' Save that, and he is yours… For the Pen, when it is writing, can only scratch; and bottled ink is not to compare with the ground Chinese stick… |
|
| 2 | 1889 |
Rudyard Kipling. From sea to sea [ID D31419] 9 March desparts from India. 14 March arrives in Rangoon. 24 March arrives in Singapore. 1 April arrives in Hong Kong, Canton [Guangzhou]. 15 April arrives in Nagasaki. 11 May departs from Yokohama to San Francisco. |
|
| 3 | 1899.1 |
Kipling, Rudyard. From sea to sea [ID D314219]. (1) March-September, 1889 No 2. The River of the Lost Footsteps and the Golden Mystery upon its Banks. The Iniquity of Jordan. Shows how a Man may go to the Shway Dagon Pagoda and see it not and to the Pegu Club and hear too much. A Dissertation on Mixed Drinks. Judging the Empire as it ought to be judged, by its most prominent points—videlicet, its smells—he was right; for though there is one stink in Calcutta, another in Bombay, and a third and most pungent one in the Punjab, yet they have a kinship of stinks, whereas Burma smells quite otherwise. It is not exactly what China ought to smell like, but it is not India… The Burman exists beautifully, while his women-folk marry the Madrassi and the Chinaman, because these support them in affluence… At this point I stayed, because there was a beautiful archway of Burmese build, and adorned with a Chinese inscription, directly in front of me, and I conceived foolishly that I should find nothing more pleasant to look at if I went farther… No 4. Showing how I came to Palmiste Island and the Place of Paul and Virginia, and fell Asleep in a Garden. A Disquisition on the Folly of Sight-seeing. There was no hard work, and the Chinamen gave but little trouble. They had fights among themselves, but "they do not care to give us any impudence;" and the big man swaggered off with the long roll and swing of a whole Pioneer regiment, while I cheered myself with the thought that India—the India I pretend to hold in hatred—was not so far off, after all… There is only one coolie, but he is strong, and he runs just as well as six bell-men. He ties up his pigtail,—being a Cantonese,—and this is a disadvantage to sahibs who cannot speak Tamil, Malay, or Cantonese. Otherwise he might be steered like a camel… Now and again there blazed the front of a Chinese house, all open-work vermilion, lamp-black, and gold, with six-foot. Chinese lanterns over the doorways and glimpses of quaintly cut shrubs in the well-kept gardens beyond… Till then we had feared Chinamen, especially when they brought food, but now we will eat anything at their hands. The conclusion of the meal was a half-guinea pineapple and a siesta… In the native town, I found a large army of Chinese—more than I imagined existed in China itself—encamped in spacious streets and houses, some of them sending block-tin to Singapur, some driving fine carriages, others making shoes, chairs, clothes, and every other thing that a large town desires. They were the first army corps on the march of the Mongol. The scouts are at Calcutta, and a flying column at Rangoon. Here begins the main body, some hundred thousand strong, so they say. Was it not De Quincey that had a horror of the Chinese—of their inhumaneness and their inscrutability?... The Straits Settlement Council which lives at Singapur had just passed a Bill (Ordinance they call it) putting down all Chinese secret societies in the colony, which measure only awaited the Imperial assent. A little business in Singapur connected with some municipal measure for clearing away overhanging verandahs created a storm, and for three days those who were in the place say the town was entirely at the mercy of the Chinese, who rose all together and made life unpleasant for the authorities. This incident forced the Government to take serious notice of the secret societies who could so control the actions of men, and the result has been a measure which it will not be easy to enforce. A Chinaman must have a secret society of some kind. He has been bred up in a country where they were necessary to his comfort, his protection, and the maintenance of his scale of wages from time immemorial, and he will carry them with him as he will carry his opium and his coffin… Up till the present our military administration has been subordinate to that of Hong-Kong; when that is done away with and we have Sir Charles Warren, things will be different… Certainly the great grievance of Penang is the Chinese question. She would not be human did she not revile her Municipal Commissioners and talk about the unsanitary condition of the island… They had a Chinaman on the Municipality last year. They have now got rid of him, and the present body is constituted of two officials and four non-officials. Therefore they complain of the influence of officialdom. Having thoroughly settled all the differences of Penang to my own great satisfaction, I removed myself to a Chinese theatre set in the open road, and made of sticks and old gunny-bags. The orchestra alone convinced me that there was something radically wrong with the Chinese mind. Once, long ago in Jummu, I heard the infernal clang of the horns used by the Devil-dancers who had come from far beyond Ladakh to do honour to the Prince that day set upon his throne. That was about three thousand miles to the north, but the character of the music was unchanged. A thousand Chinamen stood as close as possible to the horrid din and enjoyed it. Once more, can anything be done to a people without nerves as without digestion, and, if reports speak truly, without morals? But it is not true that they are born with full-sized pigtails. The thing grows, and in its very earliest stages is the prettiest head-dressing imaginable, being soft brown, very fluffy, about three inches long, and dressed as to the end with red silk. An infant pigtail is just like the first tender sprout of a tulip bulb, and would be lovable were not the Chinese baby so very horrible of hue and shape. He isn't as pretty as the pig that Alice nursed in Wonderland, and he lies quite still and never cries. This is because he is afraid of being boiled and eaten. I saw cold boiled babies on a plate being carried through the heart of the town. They said it was only sucking-pig, but I knew better. Dead sucking-pigs don't grin with their eyes open. About this time the faces of the Chinese frightened me more than ever, so I ran away to the outskirts of the town and saw a windowless house that carried the Square and Compass in gold and teakwood above the door. I took heart at meeting these familiar things again, and knowing that where they were was good fellowship and much charity, in spite of all the secret societies in the world. Penang is to be congratulated on one of the prettiest little lodges in the East. No 5. Of the Threshold of the Far East and the Dwellers thereon. A Dissertation upon the Use of the British Lion. These are unfailing signs of commercial prosperity. India ended so long ago that I cannot even talk about the natives of the place. They are all Chinese, except where they are French or Dutch or German. England is by the uninformed supposed to own the island. The rest belongs to China and the Continent, but chiefly China. I knew I had touched the borders of the Celestial Empire when I was thoroughly impregnated with the reek of Chinese tobacco, a fine-cut, greasy, glossy weed, to whose smoke the aroma of a huqa in the cookhouse is all Rimmell's shop… Forgive me, but I am looking at the shipping outside the verandah, at the Chinamen in the streets, and at the lazy, languid Englishmen in banians and white jackets stretched on the cane chairs, and these things are not nice… The Professor looked over my shoulder at this point. "Bosh!" said he. "They will become just a supplementary China—another field for Chinese cheap labour. When the Dutch Settlements were returned in 1815,—all these islands hereabouts, you know,—we should have handed over these places as well. Look!" He pointed at the swarming Chinamen below. "Let me dream my dream, 'Fessor. I'll take my hat in a minute and settle the question of Chinese immigration in five minutes." But I confess it was mournful to look into the street, which ought to have been full of Beharis, Madrassis, and men from the Konkan—from our India… No 6 Of the Well-dressed Islanders of Singapur and their Diversions; proving that All Stations are exactly Alike. Shows how One Chicago Jew and an American Child can poison the Purest Mind. When one comes to a new station the first thing to do is to call on the inhabitants. This duty I had neglected, preferring to consort with Chinese till the Sabbath, when I learnt that Singapur went to the Botanical Gardens and listened to secular music… No 7. Shows how I arrived in China and saw entirely through the Great Wall and out upon the Other Side Where naked ignorance Delivers brawling judgments all day long On all things unashamed. The past few days on the Nawab have been spent amid a new people and a very strange one. There were speculators from South Africa: financiers from home (these never talked in anything under hundreds of thousands of pounds and, I fear, bluffed awfully); there were Consuls of far-off China ports and partners of China shipping houses talking a talk and thinking thoughts as different from Ours as is Our slang from the slang of London. But it would not interest you to learn the story of our shipload — to hear about the hard-headed Scotch merchant with a taste for spiritualism, who begged me to tell him whether there was really anything in Theosophy and whether Tibet was full of levitating chelas, as he believed; or of the little London curate out for a holiday who had seen India and had faith in the progress of missionary work there — who believed that the C.M.S. was shaking the thoughts and convictions of the masses, and that the Word of the Lord would ere long prevail above all other counsels. He in the night-watches tackled and disposed of the great mysteries of Life and Death, and was looking forward to a lifetime of toil amid a parish without a single rich man in it. When you are in the China Seas be careful to keep all your flannel-wear to hand. In an hour the steamer swung from tropical heat (including prickly) to a cold raw fog, as wet as a Scotch mist. Morning gave us a new world — somewhere between Heaven and Earth. The sea was smoked glass reddish-grey islands lay upon it under fog-banks that hovered fifty feet above our heads. The squat sails of junks danced for an instant like autumn leaves in the breeze and disappeared, and there was no solidity in the islands against which the glassy levels splintered in snow. The steamer groaned and grunted and howled because she was so damp and miserable, and I groaned also because the guide-book said that Hong-Kong had the finest harbour in the world, and I could not see two hundred yards in any direction. Yet this ghost-like in-gliding through the belted fog was livelily mysterious, and became more so when the movement of the air vouchsafed us a glimpse of a warehouse and a derrick, both apparently close aboard, and behind them the shoulder of a mountain. We made our way into a sea of flat-nosed boats all manned by most muscular humans, and the Professor said that the time to study the Chinese question was now. We, however, were carrying a new general to these parts, and nice, new, well-fitting uniforms came off to make him welcome; and in the contemplation of things too long withheld from me I forgot about the Pigtails. Gentlemen of the mess-room, who would wear linen coats on parade if you could, wait till you have been a month without seeing a patrol jacket or hearing a spur go ling-a-ling, and you will know why civilians want you always to wear uniform. The General, by the way, was a nice General. He did not know much about the Indian Army or the ways of a gentleman called Roberts, if I recollect aright; but he said that Lord Wolseley was going to be Commander-in-Chief one of these days on account of the pressing needs of our Army. He was a revelation because he talked about nothing but English military matters, which are very, very different from Indian ones, and are mixed up with politics. All Hong-Kong is built on the sea-face; the rest is fog. One muddy road runs for ever in front of a line of houses which are partly Chowringhee and partly Rotherhithe. You live in the houses, and when wearied of this, walk across the road and drop into the sea, if you can find a square foot of unencumbered water. So vast is the accumulation of country shipping, and such is its dirtiness as it rubs against the bund, that the superior inhabitants are compelled to hang their boats from davits above the common craft, who are greatly disturbed by a multitude of steam-launches. These ply for amusement and the pleasure of whistling, and are held in such small esteem that every hotel owns one, and the others are masterless. Beyond the launches lie more steamers than the eye can count, and four out of five of these belong to Us. I was proud when I saw the shipping at Singapur, but I swell with patriotism as I watch the fleets of Hong-Kong from the balcony of the Victoria Hotel. I can almost spit into the water; but many mariners stand below and they are a strong breed. How recklessly selfish does a traveller become! We had dropped for more than ten days all the world outside our trunks, and almost the first word in the hotel was: 'John Bright is dead, and there has been an awful hurricane at Samoa.' 'Ah! indeed that's very sad; but look here, where do you say my rooms are?’ At home the news would have given talk for half a day. It was dismissed in half the length of a hotel corridor. One cannot sit down to think with a new world humming outside the window — with all China to enter upon and possess. A rattling of trunks in the halls — a click of heels — and the apparition of an enormous gaunt woman wrestling with a small Madrassi servant... 'Yes — I haf travelled everywhere and I shall travel everywhere else. I go now to Shanghai and Pekin. I have been in Moldavia, Russia, Beyrout, all Persia, Colombo, Delhi, Dacca, Benares, Allahabad, Peshawar, the Ali Musjid in that pass, Malabar, Singapur, Penang, here in this place, and Canton. I am Austrian-Croat, and I shall see the States of America and perhaps Ireland. I travel for ever; I am — how you call?— veuve — widow. My husband, he was dead; and so I am sad — I am always sad and so I trafel. I am alife of course, but I do not live. You onderstandt? Always sad. Vill you tell them the name of the ship to which they shall warf my trunks now. You trafel for pleasure? So! I trafel because I am alone and sad — always sad.' The trunks disappeared, the door shut, the heels clicked down the passage, and I was left scratching my head in wonder. How did that conversation begin — why did it end, and what is the use of meeting eccentricities who never explain themselves? I shall never get an answer, but that conversation is true, every word of it. I see now where the fragmentary school of novelists get their material from. When I went into the streets of Hong-Kong I stepped into thick slushy London mud of the kind that strikes chilly through the boot, and the rattle of innumerable wheels was as the rattle of hansoms. A soaking rain fell, and all the sahibs hailed ’rickshaws,— they call them ’ricks here,— and the wind was chillier than the rain. It was the first touch of honest weather since Calcutta. No wonder with such a climate that Hong-Kong was ten times livelier than Singapur, that there were signs of building everywhere, and gas jets in all the houses, that colonnades and domes were scattered broadcast, and the Englishmen walked as Englishmen should — hurriedly and looking forward. All the length of the main street was verandahed, and the Europe shops squandered plate-glass by the square yard. (Nota bene.— As in Simla so elsewhere: mistrust the plate-glass shops. You pay for their fittings in each purchase.) The same Providence that runs big rivers so near to large cities puts main thoroughfares close to big hotels. I went down Queen Street, which is not very hilly. All the other streets that I looked up were built in steps after the fashion of Clovelly, and under blue skies would have given the Professor scores of good photographs. The rain and the fog blotted the views. Each upward-climbing street ran out in white mist that covered the sides of a hill, and the downward-sloping ones were lost in the steam from the waters of the harbour, and both were very strange to see. 'Hi-yi-yow,' said my rickshaw coolie and balanced me on one wheel. I got out and met first a German with a beard, then three jolly sailor boys from a man-of-war, then a sergeant of Sappers, then a Parsee, then two Arabs, then an American, then a Jew, then a few thousand Chinese all carrying something, and then the Professor. 'They make plates — instantaneous plates — in Tokio, I’m told. What d’ you think of that?' he said. 'Why, in India, the Survey Department are the only people who make their own plates. Instantaneous plates in Tokio; think of it!' I had owed the Professor one for a long time. 'After all,' I replied, 'it strikes me that we have made the mistake of thinking too much of India. We thought we were civilised, for instance. Let us take a lower place. This beats Calcutta into a hamlet.' And in good truth it did, because it was clean beyond the ordinary, because the houses were uniform, three-storied and verandahed, and the pavements were of stone. I met one horse, very ashamed of himself, who was looking after a cart on the sea-road, but upstairs there are no vehicles save rickshaws. Hong-Kong has killed the romance of the rickshaw in my mind. They ought to be sacred to pretty ladies, instead of which men go to office in them, officers in full canonicals use them; tars try to squeeze in two abreast, and from what I have heard down at the barracks they do occasionally bring to the guardroom the drunken defaulter. 'He falls asleep inside of it, Sir, and saves trouble.' The Chinese naturally have the town for their own, and profit by all our building improvements and regulations. Their golden and red signs flame down the Queen’s Road, but they are careful to supplement their own tongue by well-executed Europe lettering. I found only one exception, thus:— Fussing, Garpenter And Gabinet Naktr Has good Gabi Nets for Sale. The shops are made to catch the sailor and the curio hunter, and they succeed admirably. When you come to these parts put all your money in a bank and tell the manager man not to give it you, however much you ask. So shall you be saved from bankruptcy. The Professor and I made a pilgrimage from Kee Sing even unto Yi King, who sells the de-composed fowl, and each shop was good. Though it sold shoes or sucking pigs, there was some delicacy of carving or gilded tracery in front to hold the eye, and each thing was quaint and striking of its kind. A fragment of twisted roots helped by a few strokes into the likeness of huddled devils, a running knop and flower cornice, a dull red and gold halfdoor, a split bamboo screen — they were all good, and their joinings and splicings and mortisings were accurate. The baskets of the coolies were good in shape, and the rattan fastenings that clenched them to the polished bamboo yoke were whipped down, so that there were no loose ends. You could slide in and out the drawers in the slung chests of the man who sold dinners to the ’rickshaw coolies; and the pistons of the little wooden hand-pumps in the shops worked accurately in their sockets. I was studying these things while the Professor was roaming through carved ivories, broidered silks, panels of inlay, tortoise-shell filigree, jadetipped pipes, and the God of Art only knows what else. 'I don't think even as much of him (meaning our Indian craftsman) as I used to do,' said the Professor, taking up a tiny ivory grotesque of a small baby trying to pull a water-buffalo out of its wallow — the whole story of beast and baby written in the hard ivory. The same thought was in both our minds; we had gone near the subject once or twice before. 'They are a hundred times his superior in mere idea — let alone execution,' said the Professor, his hand on a sketch in woods and gems of a woman caught in a gale of wind protecting her baby from its violence. 'Yes; and don't you see that they only introduce aniline dyes into things intended for us. Whereas he wears them on his body whenever he can. What made this yellow image of a shopman here take delight in a dwarf orange tree in a turquoiseblue pot?' I continued, sorting a bundle of cheap China spoons — all good in form, colour, and use. The big-bellied Chinese lanterns above us swayed in the wind with a soft chafing of oiled paper, but they made no sign, and the shopkeeper in blue was equally useless. 'You wanchee buy? Plitty things here,' said he; and he filled a tobacco-pipe from a dull green leather pouch held at the mouth with a little bracelet of plasma, or it might have been the very jade. He was playing with a brown-wood abacus, and by his side was his day-book bound in oiled paper, and the tray of Indian ink, with the brushes and the porcelain supports for the brushes. He made an entry in his book and daintily painted in his latest transaction. The Chinese of course have been doing this for a few thousand years; but Life, and its experiences, is as new to me as it was to Adam, and I marvelled. 'Wanchee buy?' reiterated the shopman after he had made his last flourish. Said I, in the new tongue which I am acquiring, 'Wanchee know one piecee information b’long my pidgin. Savvy these things? Have got soul, you?' 'Have got how?' 'Have got one piecee soul-allee same spilit? No savvy? This way then — your people lookee allee same devil; but makee culio allee same pocket-Joss, and not giving any explanation. Why-for are you such a horrible contradiction?' 'No savvy. Two dollar an' half,' he said, balancing a cabinet in his hand. The Professor had not heard. His mind was oppressed with the fate of the Hindu. 'There are three races who can work,' said the Professor, looking down the seething street where the ’rickshaws tore up the slush, and the babel of Cantonese and pidgin went up to the yellow fog in a jumbled snarl. 'But there is only one that can swarm,' I answered. 'The Hindu cuts his own throat and dies, and there are too few of the Sahib-log to last for ever. These people work and spread. They must have souls or they couldn’t understand pretty things.' 'I can't make it out,' said the Professor. 'They are better artists than the Hindu,— that carving you are looking at is Japanese, by the way,— better artists and stronger workmen, man for man. They pack close and eat everything, and they can live on nothing.' 'And 've been praising the beauties of Indian Art all my days.' It was a little disappointing when you come to think of it, but I tried to console myself by the thought that the two lay so far apart there was no comparison possible. And yet accuracy is surely the touchstone of all Art. 'They will overwhelm the world,' said the Professor calmly, and he went out to buy tea. Neither at Penang, Singapur, nor this place have I seen a single Chinaman asleep while daylight lasted. Nor have I seen twenty men who were obviously loafing. All were going to some definite end — if it were only like the coolie on the wharf, to steal wood from the scaffolding of a half-built house. In his own land, I believe, the Chinaman is treated with a certain amount of carelessness, not to say ferocity. Where he hides his love of Art, the Heaven that made him out of the yellow earth that holds so much iron only knows. His love is for little things, or else why should he get quaint pendants for his pipe, and at the backmost back of his shop build up for himself a bowerbird's collection of odds and ends, every one of which has beauty if you hold it sufficiently close to the eye. It grieves me that I cannot account for the ideas of a few hundred million men in a few hours. This much, however, seems certain. If we had control over as many Chinamen as we have natives of India, and had given them one tithe of the cosseting, the painful pushing forward, and studious, even nervous, regard of their interests and aspirations that we have given to India, we should long ago have been expelled from, or have reaped the reward of, the richest land on the face of the earth. A pair of my shoes have been, oddly enough, wrapped in a newspaper which carries for its motto the words, 'There is no Indian nation, though there exist the germs of an Indian nationality,' or something very like that. This thing has been moving me to unholy laughter. The great big lazy land that we nurse and wrap in cotton-wool, and ask every morning whether it is strong enough to get out of bed, seems like a heavy soft cloud on the far-away horizon; and the babble that we were wont to raise about its precious future and its possibilities, no more than the talk of children in the streets who have made a horse out of a pea-pod and match-sticks, and wonder if it will ever walk. I am sadly out of conceit of mine own other — not mother — country now that I have had my boots blacked at once every time I happened to take them off. The blacker did not do it for the sake of a gratuity, but because it was his work. Like the beaver of old, he had to climb that tree; the dogs were after him. There was competition. Is there really such a place as Hong-Kong? People say so, but I have not yet seen it. Once indeed the clouds lifted and I saw a granite house perched like a cherub on nothing, a thousand feet above the town. It looked as if it might be the beginning of a civil station, but a man came up the street and said, 'See this fog? It will be like this till September. You'd better go away.' I shall not go. I shall encamp in front of the place until the fog lifts and the rain ceases. At present, and it is the third day of April, I am sitting in front of a large coal fire and thinking of the 'frosty Caucasus'— you poor creatures in torment afar. And you think as you go to office and orderly-room that you are helping forward England's mission in the East. ’Tis a pretty delusion, and I am sorry to destroy it, but you have conquered the wrong country. Let us annex China. No 8. Of Jenny and her Friends. Showing how a Man may go to see Life and meet Death there. Of the Felicity of Life and the Happiness of Corinthian Kate. The Woman and the Cholera. I am disposed to think that he does not. In the interest of the opulent papa, and from a genuine desire to see what they call Life, with a capital Hell, I went through Hong-Kong for the space of a night. I am glad that I am not a happy father with a stray son who thinks that he knows all the ropes. Vice must be pretty much the same all the round world over, but if a man wishes to get out of pleasure with it, let him go to Hong-Kong… "I won't be buried in Hong-Kong. That frightens me. When I die—of cholera—take me to 'Frisco and bury me there… Something had gone wrong in the slatternly menage where the plated tea-services were mixed with cheap China; and the household was being called to account… No 9. Some Talk with a Taipan and a General: proves in what Manner a Sea Picnic may be a Success. "From these things," said the Taipan, "comes the wealth of Hong-Kong. Every notion here pays, from the dairy-farm upwards. We have passed through our bad times and come to the fat years."… He told me tales of the old times—pityingly because he knew I could not understand. All I could tell was that the place dressed by America—from the hair-cutters' saloons to the liquor-bars. The faces of men were turned to the Golden Gate even while they floated most of the Singapur companies. There is not sufficient push in Singapur alone, so Hong-Kong helps. Circulars of new companies lay on the bank counters. I moved amid a maze of interests that I could not comprehend, and spoke to men whose minds were at Hankow, Foochoo, Amoy, or even further—beyond the Yangtze gorges where the Englishman trades… After a while I escaped from the company-floaters because I knew I could not understand them, and ran up a hill. Hong-Kong is all hill except when the fog shuts out everything except the sea… Nor, unless you are warned of the opticalness of the delusion, is it nice to see from your seat, houses and trees at magic-lantern angles. Such things, before tiffin, are worse than the long roll of the China seas… We hold Hong-Kong, and by Our strength and wisdom it is a great city, built upon a rock, and furnished with a dear little seven-furlong racecourse set in the hills, and fringed as to one side with the homes of the dead—Mahometan, Christian, and Parsee. A wall of bamboos shuts off the course and the grand-stand from the cemeteries. It may be good enough for Hong-Kong, but would you care to watch your pony running with a grim reminder of "gone to the drawer" not fifty feet behind you? Very beautiful are the cemeteries, and very carefully tended. The rocky hillside rises so near to them that the more recent dead can almost command a view of the racing as they lie. Even this far from the strife of the Churches they bury the different sects of Christians apart. One creed paints its wall white, and the other blue. The latter, as close to the race-stand as may be, writes in straggling letters, "Hodie mihi cras tibi." No, I should not care to race in Hong-Kong. The scornful assemblage behind the grand-stand would be enough to ruin any luck. Chinamen do not approve of showing their cemeteries. We hunted ours from ledge to ledge of the hillsides, through crops and woods and crops again, till we came to a village of black and white pigs and riven red rocks beyond which the dead lay. It was a third-rate place, but was pretty. I have studied that oilskin mystery, the Chinaman, for at least five days, and why he should elect to be buried in good scenery, and by what means he knows good scenery when he sees it, I cannot fathom. But he gets it when the sight is taken from him, and his friends fire crackers above him in token of the triumph. That night I dined with the Taipan in a palace. They say the merchant prince of Calcutta is dead—killed by exchange. Hong-Kong ought to be able to supply one or two samples. The funny thing in the midst of all this wealth—wealth such as one reads about in novels—is to hear the curious deference that is paid to Calcutta. Console yourselves with that, gentlemen of the Ditch, for by my faith, it is the one thing that you can boast of. At this dinner I learned that Hong-Kong was impregnable and that China was rapidly importing twelve and forty ton guns for the defence of her coasts. The one statement I doubted, but the other was truth. Those who have occasion to speak of China in these parts do so deferentially, as who should say: "Germany intends such and such," or "These are the views of Russia." The very men who talk thus are doing their best to force upon the great Empire all the stimulants of the West—railways, tram lines, and so forth. What will happen when China really wakes up, runs a line from Shanghai to Lhassa, starts another line of imperial Yellow Flag immigrant steamers, and really works and controls her own gun-factories and arsenals? The energetic Englishmen who ship the forty-tonners are helping to this end, but all they say is: "We're well paid for what we do. There's no sentiment in business, and anyhow, China will never go to war with England." Indeed, there is no sentiment in business. The Taipan's palace, full of all things beautiful, and flowers more lovely than the gem-like cabinets they adorned, would have made happy half a hundred young men craving for luxury, and might have made them writers, singers, and poets. It was inhabited by men with big heads and straight eyes, who sat among the splendours and talked business. If I were not going to be a Burman when I die I would be a Taipan at Hong-Kong. He knows so much and he deals so largely with Princes and Powers, and he has a flag of his very own which he pins on to all his steamers… Forthwith we embarked upon a new world—that of Hong-Kong harbour—and with a dramatic regard for the fitness of things our little ship was the Pioneer… Then we left China altogether, and steamed into far Lochaber, with a climate to correspond… "Say about three thousand for the Island—enough to stop any expedition that might come. Look at all these little bays and coves. There are twenty places at the back of the island where you could land men and make things unpleasant for Hong-Kong."… And that is just the worst of it. Here was a nice General helping to lay out fortifications, with one eye on Hong-Kong and the other, his right one, on England… But remember that Hong-Kong—with five million tons of coal, five miles of shipping, docks, wharves, huge civil station, forty million pounds of trade, and the nicest picnic parties that you ever did see—wants three thousand men and—she won't get them. She has two batteries of garrison artillery, a regiment, and a lot of gun lascars—about enough to prevent the guns from rusting on their carriages. There are three forts on an island—Stonecutter's Island—between Hong-Kong and the mainland, three on Hong-Kong itself, and three or four scattered about elsewhere… A landward turn in the road brought us to the pine woods of Theog and the rhododendrons—but they called them azaleas—of Simla, and ever the rain fell as though it had been July in the hills instead of April at Hong-Kong. An invading army marching upon Victoria would have a sad time of it even if the rain did not fall. There are but one or two gaps in the hills through which it could travel, and there is a scheme in preparation whereby they shall be cut off and annihilated when they come. When I had to climb a clay hill backwards digging my heels into the dirt, I very much pitied that invading army. Whether the granite-faced reservoir and two-mile tunnel that supplies Hong-Kong with water be worth seeing I cannot tell. There was too much water in the air for comfort even when one tried to think of Home. But go you and take the same walk—ten miles, and only two of 'em on level ground. Steam to the forsaken cantonment of Stanley and cross the island, and tell me whether you have seen anything so wild and wonderful in its way as the scenery. I am going up the river to Canton, and cannot stay for word-paintings. No 10. Shows how I came to Goblin Market and took a Scunner at it and cursed the Chinese People. Shows further how I initiated all Hong-Kong into our Fraternity. Providence is pleased to be sarcastic. It sent rain and a raw wind from the beginning till the end. That is one of the disadvantages of leaving India. You cut yourself adrift, from the only trustworthy climate in the world. I despise a land that has to waste half its time in watching the clouds. The Canton trip (I have been that way) introduces you to the American river steamer, which is not in the least like one of the Irrawaddy flotilla or an omnibus, as many people believe. It is composed almost entirely of white paint, sheet-lead, a cow-horn, and a walking-beam, and holds about as much cargo as a P. and O. The trade between Canton and Hong-Kong seems to be immense, and a steamer covers the ninety miles between port and port daily. None the less are the Chinese passengers daily put under hatches or its equivalent after they leave port, and daily is the stand of loaded Sniders in the cabin inspected and cleaned up. Daily, too, I should imagine, the captain of each boat tells his Globe-trotting passengers the venerable story of the looting of a river steamer—how two junks fouled her at a convenient bend in the river, while the native passengers on her rose and made things very lively for the crew, and ended by clearing out that steamer. The Chinese are a strange people! They had a difficulty at Hong-Kong not very long ago about photographing labour coolies, and in the excitement, which was considerable, a rickety old war junk got into position off the bund with the avowed intention of putting a three-pound shot through the windows of the firm who had suggested the photographing. And this though vessel and crew could have been blown in cigarette-ash in ten minutes! But no one pirated the Ho-nam, though the passengers did their best to set her on fire by upsetting the lamps of their opium pipes. She blared her unwieldy way across the packed shipping of the harbour and ran into grey mist and driving rain. When I say that the scenery was like the West Highlands you will by this time understand what I mean. Large screw steamers, China pig-boats very low in the water and choked with live-stock, wallowing junks and ducking sampans filled the waterways of a stream as broad as the Hughli and much better defended so far as the art of man was concerned. Their little difficulty with the French a few years ago has taught the Chinese a great many things which, perhaps, it were better for us that they had left alone. The first striking object of Canton city is the double tower of the big Catholic Church. Take off your hat to this because it means a great deal, and stands as the visible standard of a battle that has yet to be fought. Never have the missionaries of the Mother of the Churches wrestled so mightily with any land as with China, and never has nation so scientifically tortured the missionary as has China. Perhaps when the books are audited somewhere else, each race, the White and the Yellow, will be found to have been right according to their lights. I had taken one fair look at the city from the steamer, and threw up my cards. "I can't describe this place, and besides, I hate Chinamen." "Bosh! It is only Benares, magnified about eight times. Come along." It was Benares, without any wide streets or chauks, and yet darker than Benares, in that the little skyline was entirely blocked by tier on tier of hanging signs,—red, gold, black, and white. The shops stood on granite plinths, pukka brick above, and tile-roofed. Their fronts were carved wood, gilt, and coloured savagely. John knows how to dress a shop, though he may sell nothing more lovely than smashed fowl and chitterlings. Every other shop was a restaurant, and the space between them crammed with humanity. Do you know those horrible sponges full of worms that grow in warm seas? You break off a piece of it and the worms break too. Canton was that sponge. "Hi, low yah. To hoh wang!" yelled the chair-bearers to the crowd, but I was afraid that if the poles chipped the corner of a house the very bricks would begin to bleed. Hong-Kong showed me how the Chinaman could work. Canton explained why he set no value on life. The article was cheaper than in India. I hated the Chinaman before; I hated him doubly as I choked for breath in his seething streets where nothing short of the pestilence could clear a way. There was of course no incivility from the people, but the mere mob was terrifying. There are three or four places in the world where it is best for an Englishman to agree with his adversary swiftly, whatever the latter's nationality may be. Canton heads the list. Never argue with anybody in Canton. Let the guide do it for you. Then the stinks rose up and overwhelmed us. In this respect Canton was Benares twenty times magnified. The Hindu is a sanitating saint compared to the Chinaman. He is a rigid Malthusian in the same regard. "Very bad stink, this place. You come right along," said Ah Cum, who had learned his English from Americans. He was very kind. He showed me feather-jewellery shops where men sat pinching from the gorgeous wings of jays, tiny squares of blue and lilac feathers, and pasting them into gold settings, so that the whole looked like Jeypore enamel of the rarest. But we went into a shop. Ah Cum drew us inside the big door and bolted it, while the crowd blocked up the windows and shutter-bars. I thought more of the crowd than the jewellery. The city was so dark and the people were so very many and so unhuman. The March of the Mongol is a pretty thing to write about in magazines. Hear it once in the gloom of an ancient curio shop, where nameless devils of the Chinese creed make mouths at you from back-shelves, where brazen dragons, revelations of uncleanliness, all catch your feet as you stumble across the floor—hear the tramp of the feet on the granite blocks of the road and the breaking wave of human speech, that is not human! "Watch the yellow faces that glare at you between the bars, and you will be afraid, as I was afraid. "It's beautiful work," said the Professor, bending over a Cantonese petticoat—a wonder of pale green, blue, and Silver. "Now I understand why the civilised European of Irish extraction kills the Chinaman in America. It is justifiable to kill him. It would be quite right to wipe the city of Canton off the face of the earth, and to exterminate all the people who ran away from the shelling. The Chinaman ought not to count." I had gone off on my own train of thought, and it was a black and bitter one. "Why on earth can't you look at the lions and enjoy yourself, and leave politics to the men who pretend to understand 'em?" said the Professor. "It's no question of politics," I replied. "This people ought to be killed off because they are unlike any people I ever met before. Look at their faces. They despise us. You can see it, and they aren't a bit afraid of us either." Then Ah Cum took us by ways that were dark to the temple of the Five Hundred Genii, which was one of the sights of the rabbit-warren. This was a Buddhist temple with the usual accessories of altars and altar lights and colossal figures of doorkeepers at the gates. Round the inner court runs a corridor lined on both sides with figures about half life-size, representing most of the races of Asia. Several of the Jesuit Fathers are said to be in that gallery,—you can find it all in the guide-books,—and there is one image of a jolly-looking soul in a hat and full beard, but, like the others, naked to the waist. "That European gentleman," said Ah Cum. "That Marco Polo." "Make the most of him," I said. "The time is coming when there will be no European gentlemen—nothing but yellow people with black hearts—black hearts, Ah Cum—and a devil-born capacity for doing more work than they ought." "Come and see a clock," said he. "Old clock. It runs by water. Come on right along." He took us to another temple and showed us an old water-clock of four gurrahs: just the same sort of thing as they have in out-of-the-way parts of India for the use of the watchmen. The Professor vows that the machine, which is supposed to give the time to the city, is regulated by the bells of the steamers in the river, Canton water being too thick to run through anything smaller than a half-inch pipe. From the pagoda of this temple we could see that the roofs of all the houses below were covered with filled water-jars. There is no sort of fire organisation in the city. When lighted it burns till it stops. Ah Cum led us to the Potter's Field, where the executions take place. The Chinese slay by the hundred, and far be it from me to say that such generosity of bloodshed is cruel. They could afford to execute in Canton alone at the rate of ten thousand a year without disturbing the steady flow of population. An executioner who happened to be wandering about—perhaps in search of employment—offered us a sword under guarantee that it had cut off many heads. "Keep it," I said. "Keep it, and let the good work go on. My friend, you cannot execute too freely in this land. You are blessed, I apprehend, with a purely literary bureaucracy recruited—correct me if I am wrong—from all social strata, more especially those in which the idea of cold-blooded cruelty has, as it were, become embedded. Now, when to inherited devildom is superadded a purely literary education of grim and formal tendencies, the result, my evil-looking friend,—the result, I repeat,—is a state of affairs which is faintly indicated in the Little Pilgrim's account of the Hell of Selfishness. You, I presume, have not yet read the works of the Little Pilgrim." "He looks as if he was going to cut at you with that sword," said the Professor. "Come away and see the Temple of Horrors." That was a sort of Chinese Madame Tussaud's—life-like models of men being brayed in mortars, sliced, fried, toasted, stuffed, and variously bedevilled—that made me sick and unhappy. But the Chinese are merciful even in their tortures. When a man is ground in a mill, he is, according to the models, popped in head first. This is hard on the crowd who are waiting to see the fun, but it saves trouble to the executioners. A half-ground man has to be carefully watched, or else he wriggles out of his place. To crown all, we went to the prison, which was a pest-house in a back street. The Professor shuddered. "It's all right," I said. "The people who sent the prisoners here don't care. The men themselves look hideously miserable, but I suppose they don't care, and goodness knows I don't care. They are only Chinamen. If they treat each other like dogs, why should we regard 'em as human beings? Let 'em rot. I want to get back to the steamer. I want to get under the guns of Hong-Kong. Phew!" Then we ran through a succession of second-rate streets and houses till we reached the city wall on the west by a long flight of steps. It was clean here. The wall had a drop of thirty or forty feet to paddy fields. Beyond these were a semicircle of hills, every square yard of which is planted out with graves. Her dead watch Canton the abominable, and the dead are more than the myriads living. On the grass-grown top of the wall were rusty English guns spiked and abandoned after the war. They ought not to be there. A five-storied pagoda gave us a view of the city, but I was wearied of these rats in their pit—wearied and scared and sullen. The excellent Ah Cum led us to the Viceroy's summer garden-house on the cityward slope of an azalea-covered hill surrounded by cotton trees. The basement, was a handsome joss house: upstairs was a durbar-hall with glazed verandahs and ebony furniture ranged across the room in four straight lines. It was only an oasis of cleanliness. Ten minutes later we were back in the swarming city, cut off from light and sweet air. Once or twice we met a mandarin with thin official mustache and "little red button a-top." Ah Cum was explaining the nature and properties of a mandarin when we came to a canal spanned by an English bridge and closed by an iron gate, which was in charge of a Hong-Kong policeman. We were in an Indian station with Europe shops and Parsee shops and everything else to match. This was English Canton, with two hundred and fifty sahibs in it. 'Twould have been better for a Gatling behind the bridge gate. The guide-books tell you that it was taken from the Chinese by the treaty of 1860, the French getting a similar slice of territory. Owing to the binding power of French officialism, "La concession Française" has never been let or sold to private individuals, and now a Chinese regiment squats on it. The men who travel tell you somewhat similar tales about land in Saigon and Cambodia. Something seems to attack a Frenchman as soon as he dons a colonial uniform. Let us call it the red-tape-worm. "Now where did you go and what did you see?" said the Professor, in the style of the pedagogue, when we were once more on the Ho-nam and returning as fast as steam could carry us to Hong-Kong. "A big blue sink of a city full of tunnels, all dark and inhabited by yellow devils, a city that Doré ought to have seen. I'm devoutly thankful that I'm never going back there. The Mongol will begin to march in his own good time. I intend to wait until he marches up to me. Let us go away to Japan by the next boat." The Professor says that I have completely spoiled the foregoing account by what he calls "intemperate libels on a hard-working nation." He did not see Canton as I saw it—through the medium of a fevered imagination. Once, before I got away, I climbed to the civil station of Hong-Kong, which overlooks the town. There in sumptuous stone villas built on the edge of the cliff and facing shaded roads, in a wilderness of beautiful flowers and a hushed calm unvexed even by the roar of the traffic below, the residents do their best to imitate the life of an India up-country station. They are better off than we are. At the bandstand the ladies dress all in one piece—shoes, gloves, and umbrellas come out from England with the dress, and every memsahib knows what that means—but the mechanism of their life is much the same. In one point they are superior. The ladies have a club of their very own to which, I believe, men are only allowed to come on sufferance. At a dance there are about twenty men to one lady, and there are practically no spinsters in the island. The inhabitants complain of being cooped in and shut up. They look at the sea below them and they long to get away. They have their "At Homes" on regular days of the week, and everybody meets everybody else again and again. They have amateur theatricals and they quarrel and all the men and women take sides, and the station is cleaved asunder from the top to the bottom. Then they become reconciled and write to the local papers condemning the local critic's criticism. Isn't it touching? A lady told me these things one afternoon, and I nearly wept from sheer home-sickness. "And then, you know, after she had said that he was obliged to give the part to the other, and that made them furious, and the races were so near that nothing could be done, and Mrs. —— said that it was altogether impossible. You understand how very unpleasant it must have been, do you not?" "Madam," said I, "I do. I have been there before. My heart goes out to Hong-Kong. In the name of the great Indian Mofussil I salute you. Henceforward Hong-Kong is one of Us, ranking before Meerut, but after Allahabad, at all public ceremonies and parades." I think she fancied I had sunstroke; but you at any rate will know what I mean. We do not laugh any more on the P. and O. S. S. Ancona on the way to Japan. We are deathly sick, because there is a cross-sea beneath us and a wet sail above. The sail is to steady the ship who refuses to be steadied. She is full of Globe-trotters who also refuse to be steadied. A Globe-trotter is extreme cosmopolitan. He will be sick anywhere. |
|
| 4 | 1899.2 |
Kipling, Rudyard. From sea to sea [ID D314219]. (2) No 12. A Further Consideration of Japan. The Inland Sea and Good Cookery. The Mystery of Passports and Consulates and Certain Other Matters. As in Nagasaki, the town was full of babies, and as in Nagasaki, every one smiled except the Chinamen. I do not like Chinamen. There was something in their faces which I could not understand, though it was familiar enough. "The Chinaman's a native," I said. "That's the look on a native's face, but the Jap isn't a native, and he isn't a sahib either. What is it?" The Professor considered the surging street for a while. "The Chinaman's an old man when he's young, just as a native is, but the Jap is a child all his life. Think how grown-up people look among children. That's the look that's puzzling you." I dare not say that the Professor is right, but to my eyes it seemed he spoke sooth. As the knowledge of good and evil sets its mark upon the face of a grown man of Our people, so something I did not understand had marked the faces of the Chinamen. They had no kinship with the crowd beyond that which a man has to children. "They are the superior race," said the Professor, ethnologically. "They can't be. They don't know how to enjoy life," I answered immorally. "And, anyway, their art isn't human." "What does it matter?" said the Professor. "Here's a shop full of the wrecks of old Japan. Let's go in and look." We went in, but I want somebody to solve the Chinese question for me. It's too large to handle alone…. No 14. Explains in what Manner I was taken to Venice in the Rain and climbed into a Devil Fort; a Tin-pot Exhibition and a Bath. Of the Maiden and the Boltless Door, the Cultivator and his Fields, and the Manufacture of Ethnological Theories at Railroad Speed. Ends with Kioto. They know the curve in China, and I have seen French artists, introduce it into books describing a devil-besieged city of Tartary… No. 15. Kioto and how I fell in love with the chief belle there after I had conferred with certain China merchants who trafficked in tea. Shows further how, in a great temple, I broke the tenth commandment in fifty-three places and bowed own before Kano and a carpenter. Takes me to Arashima. A company of China tea-merchants were gathered in the smoking-room after dinner, and by consequence talked their own "shop," which was interesting. Their language is not Our language, for they know nothing of the tea-gardens, of drying and withering and rolling, of the assistant who breaks his collar-bone in the middle of the busiest season, or of the sickness that smites the coolie lines at about the same time. They are happy men who get their tea by the break of a thousand chests from the interior of the country and play with it upon the London markets. None the less they have a very wholesome respect for Indian tea, which they cordially detest. Here is the sort of argument that a Foochow man, himself a very heavy buyer, flung at me across the table. "You may talk about your Indian teas,—Assam and Kangra, or whatever you call them,—but I tell you that if ever they get a strong hold in England, the doctors will be down on them, Sir. They'll be medically forbidden. See if they aren't. They shatter your nerves to pieces. Unfit for human consumption—that's what they are. Though I don't deny they are selling at Home. They don't keep, though. After three months, the sorts that I've seen in London turn to hay." "I think you are wrong there," said a Hankow man. "My experience is that the Indian teas keep better than ours by a long way. But"—turning to me—"if we could only get the China Government to take off the duties, we could smash Indian tea and every one connected with it. We could lay down tea in Mincing Lane at threepence a pound. No, we do not adulterate our teas. That's one of your tricks in India. We get it as pure as yours—every chest in the break equal to sample." "You can trust your native buyers then?" I interrupted. "Trust 'em? Of course we can," cut in the Foochow merchant. "There are no tea-gardens in China as you understand them. The peasantry cultivate the tea, and the buyers buy from them for cash each season. You can give a Chinaman a hundred thousand dollars and tell him to turn it into tea of your own particular chop—up to sample. Of course the man may be a thorough-paced rogue in many ways, but he knows better than to play the fool with an English house. Back comes your tea—a thousand half-chests, we'll say. You open perhaps five, and the balance go home untried. But they are all equal to sample. That's business, that is. The Chinaman's a born merchant and full of backbone. I like him for business purposes. The Jap's no use. He isn't man enough to handle a hundred thousand dollars. Very possibly he'd run off with it—or try to." "The Jap has no business savvy. God knows I hate the Chinamen," said a bass voice behind the tobacco smoke, "but you can do business with him. The Jap's a little huckster who can't see beyond his nose." They called for drinks and told tales, these merchants of China,—tales of money and bales and boxes,—but through all their stories there was an implied leaning upon native help which, even allowing for the peculiarities of China, was rather startling. "The compradore did this: Ho Whang did that: a syndicate of Pekin bankers did the other thing"—and so on. I wondered whether a certain lordly indifference as to details had anything to do with eccentricities in the China tea-breaks and fluctuations of quality, which do occur in spite of all the men said to the contrary. Again, the merchants spoke of China as a place where fortunes are made—a land only waiting to be opened up to pay a hundredfold. They told me of the Home Government helping private trade, in kind and unobtrusive ways, to get a firmer hold on the Public Works Department contracts that are now flying abroad. This was pleasant hearing. But the strangest thing of all was the tone of hope and almost contentment that pervaded their speech. They were well-to-do men making money, and they liked their lives. You know how, when two or three of Us are gathered together in our own barren pauper land, we groan in chorus and are disconsolate. The civilian, the military man, and the merchant, they are all alike. The one overworked and broken by exchange, the second a highly organised beggar, and the third a nobody in particular, always at loggerheads with what he considers an academical Government. I knew in a way that We were a grim and miserable community in India, but I did not know the measure of Our fall till I heard men talking about fortunes, success, money, and the pleasure, good living, and frequent trips to England that money brings. Their friends did not seem to die with unnatural swiftness, and their wealth enabled them to endure the calamity of Exchange with calm. Yes, we of India are a wretched folk… No 17. Of the Nature of the Tokaido and Japanese Railway Construction. One Traveller explains the Life of the Sahib-Log, and Another the Origin of Dice. Of the Babies in the Bath Tub and the Man in D. You can never be certain whether the little beggar means what he says. Give me a Chinaman to deal with. Other men have told you that, have they? You'll find that opinion at most of the treaty ports… No 18. Concerning a Hot-water Tap, and Some General Conversation. A Chinaman, on an average, is out and away a bigger rogue than a Jap; but he has sense enough to see that honesty is the best policy, and to act by that light. A Jap will be dishonest just to save himself trouble. He's like a child that way."… No 21. Shows the Similarity between the Babu and the Japanese. Contains the Earnest Outcry of an Unbeliever. The Explanation of Mr. Smith of California and Elsewhere. Takes me on Board Ship after Due Warning to those who follow. "I shall write that a man can do himself well from Calcutta to Yokohama, stopping at Rangoon, Moulmein, Penang, Singapur, Hong-Kong, Canton, and taking a month in Japan, for about sixty pounds—rather less than more. But if he begins to buy curios, that man is lost… No 24. Shows how through Folly I assisted at a Murder and was Afraid. The Rule of the Democracy and the Despotism of the Alien. It was a bad business throughout, and the only consolation is that it was all my fault. A man took me round the Chinese quarter of San Francisco, which is a ward of the city of Canton set down in the most eligible business-quarter of the place. The Chinaman with his usual skill has possessed himself of good brick fire-proof buildings and, following instinct, has packed each tenement with hundreds of souls, all living in filth and squalor not to be appreciated save by you in India. That cursory investigation ought to have sufficed; but I wanted to know how deep in the earth the Pig-tail had taken root. Therefore I explored the Chinese quarter a second time and alone, which was foolishness. No one in the filthy streets (but for the blessed sea breezes San Francisco would enjoy cholera every season) interfered with my movements, though many asked for cumshaw. I struck a house about four stories high full of celestial abominations, and began to burrow down; having heard that these tenements were constructed on the lines of icebergs—two-thirds below sight level. Downstairs I crawled past Chinamen in bunks, opium-smokers, brothels, and gambling hells, till I had reached the second cellar—was in fact, in the labyrinths of a warren. Great is the wisdom of the Chinaman. In time of trouble that house could be razed to the ground by the mob, and yet hide all its inhabitants in brick-walled and wooden-beamed subterranean galleries, strengthened with iron-framed doors and gates. On the second underground floor a man asked for cumshaw and took me downstairs to yet another cellar, where the air was as thick as butter, and the lamps burned little holes in it not more than an inch square. In this place a poker club had assembled and was in full swing. The Chinaman loves "pokel," and plays it with great skill, swearing like a cat when he loses… The Chinaman was gripping the table with both hands and staring in front of him at an empty chair. The Mexican had gone, and a little whirl of smoke was floating near the roof. Still gripping the table, the Chinaman said: "Ah!" in the tone that a man would use when, looking up from his work suddenly, he sees a well-known friend in the doorway. Then he coughed and fell over to his own right, and I saw that he had been shot in the stomach… I became aware that, save for two men leaning over the stricken one, the room was empty; and all the tides of intense fear, hitherto held back by intenser curiosity, swept over my soul. I ardently desired the outside air. It was possible that the Chinamen would mistake me for the Mexican,—everything horrible seemed possible just then,—and it was more than possible that the stairways would be closed while they were hunting for the murderer… Fear compounded of past knowledge of the Oriental—only other white man—available witness—three stories underground—and the cough of the Chinaman now some forty feet under my clattering boot-heels… Wherefore I would impress it upon you who follow after, do not knock about the Chinese quarters at night and alone. You may stumble across a picturesque piece of human nature that will unsteady your nerves for half a day… No 25. Tells how I dropped into Politics and the Tenderer Sentiments. Contains a Moral Treatise on American Maidens and an Ethnological One on the Negro. Ends with a Banquet and a Type-writer. It is enough to travel with a policeman in a tram-car and while he arranges his coat-tails as he sits down, to catch sight of a loaded revolver. It is enough to know that fifty per cent of the men in the public saloons carry pistols about them. The Chinaman waylays his adversary and methodically chops him to pieces with his hatchet… He, and he alone, in this insane city will wait at table (the Chinaman doesn't count). He is untrained, inept, but he will fill the place and draw the pay… No 27. Shows how I caught Salmon in the Clackamas. Only Chinamen were employed on the work, and they looked like blood-besmeared yellow devils, as they crossed the rifts of sunlight that lay upon the floor. When our consignment arrived, the rough wooden boxes broke of themselves as they were dumped down under a jet of water, and the salmon burst out in a stream of quicksilver. A Chinaman jerked up a twenty-pounder, beheaded and de-tailed it with two swift strokes of a knife, flicked out its internal arrangements with a third, and cast it into a bloody-dyed tank. The headless fish leaped from under his hands as though they were facing a rapid. Other Chinamen pulled them from the vat and thrust them under a thing like a chaff-cutter, which, descending, hewed them into unseemly red gobbets fit for the can. More Chinamen with yellow, crooked fingers, jammed the stuff into the cans, which slid down some marvellous machine forthwith, soldering their own tops as they passed. Each can was hastily tested for flaws, and then sunk, with a hundred companions, into a vat of boiling water, there to be half cooked for a few minutes… Our steamer only stayed twenty minutes at that place, but I counted two hundred and forty finished cans, made from the catch of the previous night, ere I left the slippery, blood-stained, scale-spangled, oily floors, and the offal-smeared Chinamen… |
|
| 5 | 1903 |
Liang, Qichao. Ying Mei er xiao shuo ji. In : Xin xiao shuo ; no 2 (1903). [Enthält] : Photos of Mark Twain and Rudyard Kipling. |
Bibliography (42)
| # | Year | Bibliographical Data | Type / Abbreviation | Linked Data |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 1899 |
Kipling, Rudyard. From sea to sea. In : From sea to sea, and other sketches : letters of travel. (New York : Doubleday & McClure Co., 1899). http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/k/kipling/rudyard/seatosea/chapter7.html. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32977/32977-h/32977-h.htm#Page_337. |
Publication / Kip3 |
|
| 2 | 1930 |
Hu, Shi. Hu Shi ri ji. ([S.l. : s.n.], 1930). [Enthält Übersetzungen von Gedichten von] : Alfred Tennyson, Robert Browning, William Shakespeare, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Rudyard Kipling, James Russell Lowell, Alfred Noyes, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Joseph Dane Miller, Denis H. Robertson. 胡適日記 |
Publication / HuS5 |
|
| 3 | 1930 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Ru ci ru ci. Jipulin zhu ; Zhang Yousong yi. (Shanghai : Kai ming shu dian, 1930). (Shi jie shao nian wen xue cong kann. Tong hua ; 6). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). 如此如此 |
Publication / Kip25 | |
| 4 | 1934 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Ye shou shi jie di er ji. Qibeilin zhu ; Wu Guangjian yi. (Shanghai : Shang wu yin shu buan, 1934). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). [Text in Chinesisch und Englisch]. 野獸世界 第二集 |
Publication / Kip35 | |
| 5 | 1934 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Yuan lai ru ci. Jibulin yuan zhu ; Yang Zhenhua yi. (Shanghai : Shi jie shu ju, 1934). (Shi jie shao nian wen ku ; 26). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). 原来如此 |
Publication / Kip39 | |
| 6 | 1947 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Shen tong fu xiang ji = Xiang tong. Chen Bochui yi. (Shanghai : Zhong hua shu ju, 1947). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Toomai of the elephants. In : St Nicholas magazine ; December (1893). 神童伏象記 = 象童 |
Publication / Kip31 | |
| 7 | 1958 |
Yingguo duan pian xiao shuo xuan. Xin xing shu ju bian ji bu bian yi. (Taibei : Xin xing, 1958). (Shi jie wen xue cong shu). [Übersetzung von englischen Short stories]. 英國短篇小說選 [Enthält] : [Kipling, Rudyard]. Ai qing yu si wang. Jibulin zhuan. Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). [Merrick, Leonard]. Yi shu de ping pan. Meilike zhuan. [Original-Titel nicht gefunden]. [Gissing, George]. Zhi zhu wang li de zuo jia. Jixin zhuan. Übersetzung von Gissing, George. The private papers of Henry Ryecroft. (London : Archibald Constable, 1902). [?] [Mansfield, Katherine]. Bake ma ma de yi sheng. Manshufei'er zhuan. Übersetzung von Mansfield, Katherine. Life of Ma Parker. In : The Nation and Athenaeum ; 25 Febr. (1921). [Gaskell, Elizabeth]. Liang xiong di. Jiasike fu ren zhuan. Übersetzung von Gaskell, Elizabeth. The half-brothers. In : Dublin University magazine ; Nov. (1858). 兩兄弟 [Lawrence, D.H.]. Mei fu ren. Laolunsi zhuan. Übersetzung von Lawrence, D.H. The lovely lady. In : Lawrence, D.H. the black cap. (London : Hutchinson, 1927). 美妇人 [Hardy, Thomas]. San ge mo sheng ren. Hadai zhuan. Übersetzung von Hardy, Thomas. The three strangers. In : Longman's magazine ; March (1883). 三个陌生人 |
Publication / Yingg1 | |
| 8 | 1961 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Lang hai. Ludeye Jipulin yuan zhu ; Ke Ren yi xie ; Shan Ying cha tu. (Xianggan : Yu ying shu ju, 1961). (Shao nian er tong gu shi cong shu ; 4). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 狼孩 |
Publication / Kip20 | |
| 9 | 1963 |
Kipling, Rudyard. Cong lin qi tan. Jibulin yuan zhu ; Liu Yuanxiao gai xie. Vol. 1-2. (Taibei : Dong fang chu ban she, 1963). (Shi jie shao nian wen xue xuan ji ; 3-4). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 叢林奇談 |
Publication / Kip12 | |
| 10 | 1978 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Yong gan de chuan zhang. Huang Deshi bian yi. (Taibei : Gang fu shu ju, 1978). (Color world children's literature collection ; 17). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Captains courageous. (London ; New York, N.Y. : Macmillan 1897). 勇敢的船長 |
Publication / Kip38 | |
| 11 | 1980 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Da xiang de bi zi. (Tainan : Da qian chu ban shi ye gong si, ca. 1980). (Qi e you nian tong hua ; 35). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The elephant's child. In : Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). 大象的鼻子 |
Publication / Kip15 |
|
| 12 | 1980 |
[Kipling, Rudyard ; Greene, Ward]. Moli di gu shi ; Wang wang Laidi. Walt Disney Production. (Tainan : Da qian chu ban she ye gong si, ca. 1980). (Qi e you nian tong hua ; 3). Adaptation von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). Adaptation von Greene, Ward. Lady and the tramp. (New York, N.Y. : Simon and Schuster, 1954). 莫利的故事 ; 汪汪萊娣 |
Publication / Kip23 |
|
| 13 | 1981-1982 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Xiao shi de guang xian. = Jibuling = Kipling Rudyard 1907. Jibuling zhu ; Nuobei'er wen xue bian yi wei yuan hui. (Taibei : Jiu wu wen hua chu ban, 1981-1982). (Nuobei'er wen xue jiang quan ji ; 8). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The light that failed. In : Lippincott's monthly magazine ; Jan. (1891). 消失的光線 / 吉卜齡 |
Publication / Kip32 |
|
| 14 | 1982 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Xiao shi de guang xian. Jibuling zhu ; Yu Wenru yi. (Taibei : Fu de ji gou chu ban, 1982). (Nuobei'er wen xue jiang ming zhu ; 4). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The light that failed. In : Lippincott's monthly magazine ; Jan. (1891). 消失的光線 |
Publication / Kip33 | |
| 15 | 1988 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Lao hu ! Lao hu ! Jibulin zhu ; Wen Meihui deng yi. Vol. 1-2. (Guilin : Lijiang chu ban she, 1988). (Nuobei'er wen xue jiang jing pin dian cang wen ku). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 老虎! 老虎! |
Publication / Kip2 | |
| 16 | 1988 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Nu hai yu sheng. Jibulin yuan zuo ; Zhang Jianming yi. (Taibei : Guo yu ri bao, 1988). (Wen xue jie zuo xuan ; 1). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Captains courageous. (London ; New York, N.Y. : Macmillan 1897). 怒海餘生 |
Publication / Kip24 | |
| 17 | 1988 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Yong gan de chuan zhang. Jibulin zhu ; rewritten by David Oliphant. (Taibei ; Lu qiao wen hua shi ye you xian gong si, 1988). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu jing cui ; 30). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Captains courageous. (London ; New York, N.Y. : Macmillan 1897). 勇敢的船長 |
Publication / Kip37 | |
| 18 | 1989 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Chang bi xiang. Jipulin yuan zhu ; Huang Yuwen gai xie ; Ma Jingxian jian xiu. (Taibei : Guang fu, 1989). (21 shi ji shi jie tong hua jing xuan ; 47). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The elephant's child. In : Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). 長鼻象 |
Publication / Kip7 | |
| 19 | 1990 | Kipling, Rudyard. The letters of Rudyard Kipling, 1890-99. Ed. by Thomas Pinney. (London : Macmillan, 1990. Vol. 2. | Publication / Kip6 |
|
| 20 | 1990 | [Kipling, Rudyard]. Luo tuo de tuo feng shi zeng mo lai de. Ladiyade Jibulin zhu zuo ; Dimu Lekelin [Tim Raglin] hui tu ; Ren Rongrong yi. (Xianggang : Xin ya wen hua shi ye you xian gong si, 1990). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. How the camel got his hump. In : Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). | Publication / Kip22 | |
| 21 | 1991 |
Shi jie wen xue ming zhu jing cui. Zhong ying dui zhao. Vol. 1-72. (Taibei : Lu qiao, 1991). (Lu qiao er tong di san zuo tu shu guan). [Enthält] : Homer; Alexandre Dumas; Helen Keller; Mark Twain; Robert Louis Stevenson; Anthony Hope; Charles Dickens; Thomas Hardy; Edgar Allan Poe; Johanna Spyri; Arthur Conan Doyle, Sir; Jack London; Lew Wallace; Charlotte Bronte; Jules Verne; Emily Bronte; Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra; Emma Orczy; Richard Henry Dana; William Shakespeare; Rudyard Kipling; Herman Melville; Sir Walter Scott, bart.; Victor Hugo; James Fenimore Cooper; Johann David Wyss; Jane Austen; Henry James; Jonathan Swift; Stephen Crane; Anna Sewell; Nathaniel Hawthorne; Bram Stoker; Daniel Defoe; H G Wells; William Bligh; Mary Wallstonecraft Shelley; Fyodor Dostoyevsky; O. Henry [William Sydney Porter]; Joseph Conrad. 世界文學名著精粹 |
Publication / Shijie |
|
| 22 | 1991 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Lang hai. Jibulin ; Pu Long yi. (Beijing : Zhongguo wen lian chu ban gong si, 1991). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 狼孩 |
Publication / Kip21 | |
| 23 | 1993 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Jimu. Jibuling zhu ; Tang Xinmei yi. (Taibei : Yuan jing chu ban Tainan shi, 1993). (Shi jie wen xue quan ji ; 39). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Kim. In : McClure's magazine ; December 1900-October (1901). In : Cassell's magazine ; January-November (1901). (London : Macmillan, 1901). 基姆 |
Publication / Kip19 | |
| 24 | 1993 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Sen lin wang zi. Walt Disney Productions. (Johor Bahru, Malaysia : Penerbitan Pelangi, 1993). Adaptation von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 森林王子 |
Publication / Kip26 |
|
| 25 | 1993 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Sen lin wang zi. Jinmu [Jim Razzi] wen ; Shinabeier [Chris Schnabel] tu ; Huang Bohua yi. (Taibei : Yuan liu chu ban Taibei xian san chong shi, 1993). (Di si nai ka tong jing dian). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 森林王子 |
Publication / Kip28 | |
| 26 | 1994 |
Kipling, Rudyard. Jibulin dong wu xiao shuo. Wen Meihui bian xuan. (Shanghai : Shanghai wen yi chu ban she, 1994). (Shi jie wen xue da shi xiao shuo ming zuo dian zang ben). [Übersetzung ausgewählter Werke von Kipling]. 吉卜林动物小说 |
Publication / Kip17 | |
| 27 | 1995 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Sen lin wang zi. Jim Razzi ; Zhang Jun yi ; Walt Disney Company. (Beijing : Da shi jie chu ban you xian gong si, 1995). (Di shin i dian ying gu shi ; 2). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 森林王子 |
Publication / Kip29 | |
| 28 | 1996 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Cong lin chuan qi. Jibulin ; Xu Pu yi. (Shanghai : Shao nian er tong chu ban she, 1996). (Shi jie dong wu gu shi ming zhu). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 丛林传奇 |
Publication / Kip8 | |
| 29 | 1996 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Cong lin qi tan. Jipulin zhu ; Li Meihui yi. (Taizhong : Zhuan zhe, 1996). (Shi jie wen xue jing dian ku ; 20). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 叢林奇談 |
Publication / Kip11 | |
| 30 | 1997 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Cong lin zhi shu. Jibulin ; Cao Yuanyong yi. (Shijiazhuang : Hua shan wen yi chu ban she, 1997). (Ren yu zi ran shi jie ming zhu xi lie). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 丛林之书 |
Publication / Kip13 | |
| 31 | 1997 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Jibulin. Jibulin wen ; Vol. 1 : Zhuliannuo [Giuliano Ferri] tu ; Guo Enhui yi. (Taibei : Quan gao Gelin, 1997). Vol. 2 : Kelisitingna [Cristina Rinaldi] tu ; Guo Enhui yi. (Taibei : Taiwan mai ke, 1997). (Hui ben shi jie si da tong hua hao guang cai zong bian ji ; 9-10). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). 吉卜林 [Enthält] : Vol. 1 : Da xiang de bi zi wei shen me na me chang. Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The elephant's child. 大象的鼻子為什麼那麼長 Xi niu pi wei shen me you cu you zhou. Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. How the rhinoceros got his skin. Hua bao de ban dian shi zen me lai de. Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. How the leopard got his spots. Luo tuo de bei shi zeng me tuo de. Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. How the camel got his hump. Jing yu de hou long shi zen me ka zhu de. Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. How the whale got his throat. Vol. 2 : Du lai du wang de mao. Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The cat that walked by himself. 獨來獨往的貓 Di yi zhi qiu yu shi zen me lai de. Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. How the first letter was written. Lao dai shu zhi ge. Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The song-song of old man Kangaroo. 老袋鼠之 Duo jiao de hu die. Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The butterfly that stamped. 跺腳的蝴蝶 |
Publication / Kip16 | |
| 32 | 1998 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Cong lin gu shi. Jibulin ; Siwang [D.K. Swan] gai xie ; Shen Yang yi. (Shanghai : Shanghai yi wen chu ban she, 1998). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 丛林故事 |
Publication / Kip10 | |
| 33 | 1998 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Cong lin zhi shu. Jibulin ; Cao Yuanyong yi. (Shijiazhuang : Hua shan wen yi chu ban she, 1997). (Ren yu zi ran shi jie ming zhu xi lie). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 丛林之书 |
Publication / Kip14 | |
| 34 | 1998 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Yuan lai ru ci de gu shi. Layade Jibulin wen tu ; You Ziling yi. (Taibei : Yu shan she chu ban, 1998). (Mini & max xi lie ; 11). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). 原來如此的故事 |
Publication / Kip40 | |
| 35 | 1999 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Jibulin er tong gu shi ji. Jibulin zhu ; Pu Long yi. (Nanjing : Yilin chu ban she, 1999). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). 吉卜林儿童故事集 |
Publication / Kip18 | |
| 36 | 1999 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Sen lin wang zi. Ludiya Jibulin zhu ; Kelisiqin Buludan [Christian Broutin] hui ; Sun Xiaohong deng yi. (Taibei : Taiwan shang wu, 1999). (Wen xue plus ; 8). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 森林王子 |
Publication / Kip27 | |
| 37 | 1999 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Sen lin zhi shu. Jibulin ; Lin Gelun, Zhou You er tong wen xue ; Zhang Hong fan yi jia ; Wang Qun ying yu fan yi. (Haikou : Nan hai chu ban gong si, 1999). (Shi jie er tong wen xue ming zhu). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 森林之书 |
Publication / Kip30 | |
| 38 | 1999 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Xiao shi de guang xian. Jibuling zhu ; Yu Wenru yi. (Taibei : Fu de ji gou chu ban, 1982). (Nuobei'er wen xue jiang ming zhu ; 4). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The light that failed. In : Lippincott's monthly magazine ; Jan. (1891). 消失的光線 |
Publication / Kip34 | |
| 39 | 1999 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Yong gan de chuan zhang. Jibulin zhu ; Hu Chunlan, Hou Minggu yi. (Beijing : Ren min wen xue chu ban she, 1999). (Shi jie er tong wen xue cong shu). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Captains courageous. (London ; New York, N.Y. : Macmillan 1897). 勇敢的船長 |
Publication / Kip36 | |
| 40 | 1999 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Yuan lai ru ci de gu shi. Layade Jibulin zhu ; Zhao Yongfen yi. (Taibei : Tian wei wen hua, 1999). (Xiao lu tong hua hua yuan ; FG12). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. Just so stories for little children. (London : Macmillan, 1902). 原來如此的故事 |
Publication / Kip41 | |
| 41 | 2000 |
[Kipling, Rudyard]. Cong lin gu shi. Ladiyade Jibulin zhu ; Yang Xiumin yi. (Taibei : Jit tian wen hua, 2000). (Cosmos readers ; 16). Übersetzung von Kipling, Rudyard. The jungle book. (London : Macmillan, 1895). 叢林故事 |
Publication / Kip9 | |
| 42 | 2014 |
Rudyard Kipling : http://www.online-literature.com/kipling/. http://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/webbin/book/lookupname? key=Kipling%2C%20Rudyard%2C%201865-1936. |
Web / Kip1 |
|
Secondary Literature (3)
| # | Year | Bibliographical Data | Type / Abbreviation | Linked Data |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 1955 | Carrington, Charles. The life of Rudyard Kipling. (Garden City, N.Y. : Doubleday, 1955). | Publication / Kip5 | |
| 2 | 1982 |
[Fido, Martin]. Jibuling. Liang Shiqiu zhu bian ; Mading Feiduo zuo zhe ; Yin Liming yi zhe. (Taibei : Ming ren chu ban shi ye gu fen you xian gong si, 1982). (Ming ren wei ren zhuan ji quan ji ; 67). Übersetzung von Fido, Martin. Rudyard Kipling. (London : Hamlyn, 1974). 吉卜齡 |
Publication / LiaS8 | |
| 3 | 2001 | Leoshko, Janice. What is Kim ? Rudyard Kipling and Tibetan Buddhist traditions. In : South Asia research ; vol. 21, no 1 (2001). | Publication / Kip4 |