The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn Volume II Part 17

Ever affectionately, LAFCADIO HEARN.

TO OCHIAI

k.u.mAMOTO, September, 1894.

DEAR MR. OCHIAI,-- ... I was much interested in what your letter related about the doves leaving Kizuki, and about the _O mamori_. It is a curious fact that nearly the same story is told in k.u.mamoto, in regard to Kato Kiyomasa. At the Nichiren temple of Hommyoji the helmet, armour, and sword of the great Captain were always preserved. Lately they disappeared, and some say they were sent to Korea,--to stimulate the zeal of the army. But some of the people say that in the night horse-hoofs were heard in the temple court; and that a great shadowy horseman, in full armour, was seen to pa.s.s. So it is whispered that Kiyomasa rose up from his grave, and buckled on his armour, and departed to lead the Imperial Armies to glory and conquest.

Thanks also for the very interesting note about the Emperor Go-Daigo.

You know I visited the place where he lived at Oki, and the little village--Chiburi-mura--from which he made his escape in the fishermen's boat.

What you said about the _mamori_ of the soldier reminds me that at the _ujigami_ here little charms are being given to thousands of soldiers.

They are very narrow, and contrived so as to be slipped into the lining (_ura_) of a uniform.

Thanks for your two kindest letters. I shall write you again another day,--this is only my answer to one of your two letters; the other I still owe you for.

Best wishes and regards to you always.

LAFCADIO HEARN.

TO ELLWOOD HENDRICK

KOBE, December, 1894.

DEAR HENDRICK,--So it was _you_ that sent me "Trilby"--the magical thing! I never knew till the Spencer came, and Kipling's "Jungle Book." And the joke is that I thanked another man for the gift of "Trilby," and the beast never let on. And I wrote a two and one-half column review of "Trilby" to please _him_. Oh! you rascal! why didn't you tell me? Love to you for "Trilby." ...

Glad you liked my first book on j.a.pan. The _Tribune_ essay vexed me....

The curious fact of the article was the statement about the influence of the _decadents_ and of Verlaine being "apparent." Never read a line of Verlaine in my life,--and only know enough of the decadent school to convince me that the principle is scientifically wrong, and that to study the stuff is mere waste of time.

I am writing one article a day for 100 yen a month. Exchange is so low now that the 100 represents something less than 50 in American money.

And my eyes, or eye, giving out. Curious!--cold seriously affects my remnant of sight. If I had a few thousand I should go to a hot climate during the winter months. Heat gives me good vision. Even a j.a.panese hot bath temporarily restores clearness of sight....

Of course, we shall never see each other again in this world. And what is the use of being unkind--after all? Life to us literary folk--small and great--is so short, and we are never in compet.i.tion, like business men who _must_ compete--_what_ is the use of meanness? I suppose there must be some use. The effect is certainly to convince a man of "fourty-four" that the less he has to do with his fellow men the better,--or, at least, that the less he has to do with the so-called "cultured" the better....

The other day you told me of some queer changes in your inner life wrought by the influences of the outer. In my case the changes are very unpleasant. I can't feel towards men generally any longer as I used to--I feel, in short, a little misanthropic. The general facts seem to be that all realities of relations between men are of self-interest in the main; that the pleasures of those relations are illusions--dependent upon youth, power, position, etc., for degree of intensity. No man, as a general rule, shows his soul to another man; he shows it only to a woman,--and then only with the a.s.surance that she won't give him away.

As a matter of fact, she can't:--the Holy Ghost takes care of that! No woman unveils herself to another woman--only to a man; and what she unveils he cannot betray. He can only talk of her body, if he is brute enough to wish to: the inner being, of which he has had some glimpses, can be pictured only in a language which he cannot use. But what a fighting masked-ball the whole thing is!

Have you read Huxley's views on Ethics and Evolution? They have been a great revelation to me. They make it perfectly plain why men cannot be good to one another on general principles without causing trouble in the order of the universe. They also explain the immorality of Nature. Cosmic principles afford explanations of--but not consolations for--individual experiences.

L. H.

TO ELLWOOD HENDRICK

k.u.mAMOTO, December, 1894.

DEAR HENDRICK,--Of course I shall teach the "Jungle Book" to the little fellow, when he gets big enough. How pretty of you to send it. I sent some little prints--don't know if you like them; in an alb.u.m they would perhaps interest your friends who have not been in j.a.pan. I shall look out for seeds for you regularly hereafter.

About Emerson. Last spring I got a pretty edition of him from H. M.

& Co. and I digested him. He is only suggestive, but wondrously so at times, as in his poems. As a suggester he will always be great. The talk about his truisms must depend upon the knowledge of the speaker. Emerson will be large or small,--commonplace or profound,--according to the reader's knowledge of the thought of the age.

My reading out here has been pretty heavy. I have had to digest a good deal of Buddhist and Chinese stuff, of course. My philosophical favourites are still Spencer and Huxley, Lewes and Fiske and Clifford.

I made Kipling's acquaintance out here (I mean his books), and told you what I think of him. Next to Kipling I like Stevenson. But I have really read very little of anything new. Browning is a pet study still. Somehow I have tired of Tennyson--don't exactly know why.

The labour of a mother is something which, I imagine, no man without a child can understand. We big folks forget what our own mothers did for us,--and we have no real chance to see all that other mothers do. My whole family are always caring for the boy: his interest and necessities rule the whole house,--but the mother!! for a single hour she has no rest with him (j.a.panese give the breast for two years)--no sleep except when he allows it,--and yet it all is joy for her. How they have already taught him j.a.panese politeness, how to prostrate himself before his father the first thing in the morning and last at night,--to ask for things, putting his hands in the proper way,--to smile,--to know the names of things before he can p.r.o.nounce them,--I can't understand.

Angel-patience and love alone could have done it. I want her to wean him--but she won't hear of it; and the old grandmother gets angry at the mere idea. It is only in home-relation that people are true enough to each other,--show what human nature is--the beauty of it, the divinity of it. We are otherwise all on our guard against each other. I cannot say how happy I think you are--you can see Souls without armour or mail,--loving you. That is the joy of life, after all--isn't it?

LAFCADIO HEARN.

TO SENTARO NISHIDA

KOBE, January, 1895.

DEAR NISHIDA,--I have just written to Mr. Senke, to apologize for delay in sending my annual contribution--which I had hoped to be able to do as a j.a.panese citizen. But this may give me a chance to write again, when I get naturalized.

The Governor of Hyogo did a very strange thing--informed the British Consul that I was to make a declaration in writing, presumably before the Consul, that I intended to be faithful to the Emperor of j.a.pan, and to obey the laws. I did make the declaration; and the Consul is kind enough to forward it. But I believe he is doing this out of personal kindness; for I do not think it is according to English ideas, much less English laws, for a Consul to accept such a declaration at all. Indeed, what was asked was equivalent to requesting the English Consul to accept an English subject's renunciation of allegiance to Queen Victoria,--and I am astonished that the Consul, who is a rigid disciplinarian, in this case allowed me to submit to him any declaration on the subject.

One thing is sure, that others who want to become j.a.panese subjects are going to have plenty of trouble. These measures are entirely new, and quite different to anything ever before exacted--for example, in the case of Warburton and other Kobe residents who became j.a.panese subjects, perhaps for business reasons.

I am thinking of building Setsu a house, either in Kobe or Kyoto.

When I say Kobe, I mean Hyogo, really; for I cannot well afford to buy land at $40 to $70 per _tsubo_ in the back streets of Kobe. In Hyogo, I can do better. Setsu and I both agree that Kobe is warmer than Kyoto; but, except for the winter months, I should rather live in Kyoto than in any part of j.a.pan. Tokyo is the most horrible place in j.a.pan, and I want to live in it just as short a time as possible. The weather is atrocious;--the earthquakes are fearsome;--the foreign element and the j.a.panese officialism of Tokyo must be dreadful. I want to feel and see _j.a.pan_: there is no j.a.pan in Tokyo. But in spite of all I say, Setsu thinks of Tokyo just as a French lady thinks of Paris. After she has pa.s.sed a winter there, perhaps she will not like Tokyo so much. I imagine that she thinks the Tokyo,--the really beautiful Tokyo--of the old picture-books, and the bank-bills, still exists. Then she knows all the famous names--the names of the bridges and streets and temples,--and these are a.s.sociated in her mind with the dramas and the famous stories and legends of j.a.pan. Perhaps I should love Tokyo just as much as she does, if I knew the history and the traditions of the country as well.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LAFCADIO HEARN'S FAVOURITE DWELLING-HOUSE]

You will be pleased to hear that my books are attracting considerable attention now in England. It is very hard to win attention there, but much more important than to win it in America. "Out of the East" has made more impression in England than my first book did. I don't know what will be said of "Kokoro:" it is a terribly "radical" book--at variance with all English conventions and beliefs. However, if you and my few j.a.panese friends like it, I shall be happy.

I wish you were here to eat some plum-pudding with me.

Oh! I forgot to tell you that Finck, who wrote that book about j.a.pan, is rather celebrated (perhaps celebrated is too strong a word--_well known_ is better) as the author of a book called "Romantic Love and Personal Beauty."

Ever faithfully, LAFCADIO HEARN.

TO ELLWOOD HENDRICK

KOBE, January, 1895.

DEAR HENDRICK:--Three books and a catalogue reached me--Mallock, Kipling, and a volume by Morris--for which more than thanks the value much exceeding, I fear, the slight difference between us.

It now seems to me that time is the most precious of all things conceivable. I can't waste it by going out to hear people talk nonsense,--or by going to see pretty girls whom I can't marry, being married already,--or by playing games of cards, etc., to kill time,--or by answering letters written me by people who have neither real fine feeling nor real things to say. Of course I might on occasion do some one of these things,--but, having done it, I feel that so much of my life has been wasted--sinfully wasted. There are rich natures who can afford the waste; but I can't, because the best part of my life has been wasted in wrong directions and I shall have to work like thunder till I die to make up for it. I shall never do anything remarkable; but I think I have caught sight of a few truths on the way.

I might say that I have become indifferent to personal pleasures of any sort,--except sympathy and sympathetic converse; but this might represent a somewhat morbid state. What is more significant, I think, is the feeling that the greatest pleasure is to work for others,--for those who take it as a matter of course that I should do so, and would be as much amazed to find me selfish about it as if an earthquake had shaken the house down. Really I am not affecting to think this; I feel it so much that it has become a part of me.

Then of course, I like a little success and praise,--though a big success and big praise would scare me; but I find that even the little praise I have been getting has occasionally unhinged my judgement. And I have to be very careful.

Next, I have to acknowledge to feeling a sort of resentment against certain things in which I used to take pleasure. I can't look at a number of the _Pet.i.t Journal pour Rire_ or the _Charivari_ without vexation, almost anger. I can't find pleasure in a French novel written for the obvious purpose of appealing to instincts that interfere with perception of higher things than instincts. I would not go to see the Paris opera if it were next door and I had a free ticket--or, if I did go, it would be for the sake of observing the pleasure given to somebody else. I should not like to visit the most beautiful lady and be received in evening dress. You see how absurd I have become--and this without any idea of principle about the matter, except the knowledge that I ought to avoid everything which does not help the best of myself--small as it may be. Whenever by chance I happen to make a deviation from this general rule, work suffers in consequence.