The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn Volume II Part 47

At all events, O Fairy Queen, your gifts have "faded away"--even as in the Song,--and I am also fading away. I do not know whom else I should pray to, for the moment.

I have material evidence also that certain religious combinations want to prevent my chances in America; if you can help me to something journalistic, I imagine that it were better to let the matter remain unknown for the time being.

Perhaps I shall be able to leave j.a.pan with McDonald (that would be nice!)--but only the G.o.ds know when _he_ will return. Meantime, however, he gives me much comfort and promises me the fortunes of Aladdin. He seems to think I am quite safe and certain. But I am exercised about home--that is the chief trouble.

Please pardon this fresh appeal,--with all thanks for past kindness, and for those delightful letters.

Ever sincerely yours, LAFCADIO HEARN.

TO MRS. WETMORE

TOKYO, July, 1903.

DEAR MRS. WETMORE,--Your most kind letter is with me,--and I do not know what to say to thank you for the extraordinary interest and trouble that you have taken in my poor case. It is too bad that, having only one Fairy-Sister in the world, I should prove to her such a Torment. Perhaps I may be able to be at some future time a pleasure-giver--I shall pray to all the G.o.ds to help me thereunto.

Please do not worry about that Cornell matter: I suppose that President Schurman must have been in great anxiety and trouble when he wrote that letter.

You will be glad to hear that I am now much better than when I last wrote to you, and that I have finished most of the lectures--in rough draft. To polish them for publication will be at least a year's work, I fear; but I am now able, I think, to give a cultured audience a new idea of j.a.pan, in large outline.

I have to be careful of my health for some time. Perhaps I shall get quite strong by the end of summer. But I am now only allowed to walk in the garden....

I cannot write you a pretty letter: I have tried for two days,--but I feel so stupid.

What I want much is to get a little human sympathy and something quiet to do. Of course, I should like a university of all things,--but ... is it possible? I have a new book in MS.; but as I was expecting to go to America, I did not send it to the publisher. It will chiefly consist of ghost-tales.

My dear Fairy-Sister, I now am writing only to reach you as soon as possible,--to thank you, and to rea.s.sure you about myself. So please excuse this poor effort, and believe me most gratefully wors.h.i.+pful.

LAFCADIO HEARN.

TO MRS. WETMORE

TOKYO, 1903.

DEAR MRS. WETMORE,--Your letter from Virginia came, and made fires of hope burn up again, with changing vague colours,--like the tints of a fire of wreck-drift remembrance from the snowy winter of 1889. It has given me a great deal to think about--not merely as regards myself, but also as regards another and very dear person....

I am delighted to read President Jordan's kind words. I shall write him a letter to-day, or to-morrow, enclosing it to you. From Johns Hopkins I have a reply, enclosed,--which does not promise much. I shall see what can be done there. But the Lowell Inst.i.tute affair promises better.

As for President Jordan, I should be glad to speak at Leland Stanford independently of salary, on the way going or coming--could no other arrangement be made. It strikes me, however, that there is danger of any and every arrangement being broken up. The power of certain religious bodies is colossal.

Spring would be the best time for me to go to America, if I can get through the spider-web now spun all around me. It would be the best time, because those lectures are taking handsome shape, towards a volume of 500 to 600 pp.; and it were a pity to leave anything unfinished before I go. Spring again would be the best time, because I am not yet so strong that I can face a down-East winter without some preparation.

Spring would be the best time, because my fourth child is coming into the world. Spring would be the best time, because I am getting out a new book of ghost-stories, and would like to read the proofs here, in j.a.pan. I think it were imprudent to go before spring.

I have to think seriously about the money-question--at 53, with a large family. To go to America alone means $500 U.S., and as much to return--that signifies 2000 yen; with which I can live in j.a.pan for two years. Then there are the necessary expenses of living. To take my boy were a great risk. Had the j.a.panese Government been willing to pay me the vacation money they morally owed me (about 5600 yen), I could have done it. (They told me that I ought to be satisfied to live on rice, like a j.a.panese.) Then I must be sure of being able to send money home.

At present there is no money _certainly_ in sight. But here I can live by my pen. Since I was driven out of the university, I have not been obliged to drop even one sen of my little h.o.a.rd. The danger is the risk to sight of incessant work; but that danger would exist anywhere, except perhaps in a very hot country. And sooner or later the Government must wake up to the fact that it was wicked to me.

To go to America with some sense of security would be mental medicine; and any success that I could achieve there would make a good impression here with friends. It would mean larger experience. It would mean also an opportunity to enter some society that would protect liberal opinions. I have not said much as to the pleasure I could look forward to--that goes without saying. But I cannot be rash on the money-question, or trust to my luck as in old days. To use a j.a.panese expression, "my body no longer belongs to me,"--and I have had one physical warning.

Anxiety is a poison; and I do not know how much more of it I could stand. It was a friend's treachery that broke me up recently: I worked hard against the pain--only to find my mouth full of blood. With a boy on my hands, in a far-away city, and no certainties, I don't know that being brave would serve me much--the bodily machine has been so much strained here.

With a clear certainty ahead of being able to make some money, I could go, do good things, and return to j.a.pan to write more books,--perhaps to receive justice also. In a few years more my boy will be strong enough to study abroad.

Very true what you say--no one can save him but himself, and unfortunately, though the oldest, he is my Benjamin. My second boy is at school, captain of his cla.s.s, trusted to protect smaller boys. My eldest, taught only at home, between his father's knees, is everything that a girl might be, that a man should not be,--except as to bodily strength,--sensitive, loving pretty things, hurt by a word, always meditating about something--yet not showing any great capacity. I taught him to swim, and make him practise gymnastics every day; but the spirit of him is altogether too gentle. A being entirely innocent of evil--what chance for him in such a world as j.a.pan? Do you know that terribly pathetic poem of Robert Bridges'--"Pater Filio"?

That reminds me to tell you of some obligations. You are never tired of telling me that I have been able to give you some literary pleasure.

How many things did you not teach me during those evening chats in New York? It was you that first introduced me to the genius of Rudyard Kipling; and I have ever since remained a fervent wors.h.i.+pper. It was you who taught me to see the beauty of FitzGerald's translation, by quoting for me the stanza about the Moving Finger. And it was you who made me understand the extraordinary quaint charm of Ingelow's "High Tide"--since expounded to many a j.a.panese literary cla.s.s....

But this is too long a letter from

LAFCADIO HEARN.

TO MRS. WETMORE

TOKYO, 1903.

DEAR MRS. WETMORE,-- ... I am getting quite strong, and hope soon to be strong, or nearly as strong, as before. The bleeding was from a bronchial tube,--so I have to be careful about getting cold. But my lungs are quite sound. For the sake of the lectures, it is better that I should wait a little longer in j.a.pan. Most of them have been written twice; but I must write them all once more--to polish them. They will form a book, explaining j.a.pan from the standpoint of ancestor-wors.h.i.+p.

They are suited only to a cultivated audience. If never delivered, they will still make a good book. The whole study is based upon the ancient religion. I have also something to say about your proposed "Juvenilia."

I think this would be possible:--

To include in one volume under the t.i.tle of "Juvenilia"--(1) the translations from Theophile Gautier, revised; (2) "Some Chinese Ghosts;"

(3) miscellaneous essays and sketches upon Oriental subjects, formerly contributed to the _T.-D_.; (4) miscellaneous sketches on Southern subjects, two or three, and fantasies,--with a few verses thrown in.

For this I should need to have the French texts to revise, etc. Perhaps I shall be able to make the arrangement, and so please you. But I badly need help in the direction of good opinion among people of power. The prospect of "nothing" in America is frightening. I should be glad to try England; but scholars are there plentiful as little fleas in Florida;--and the power of convention has the force of an earthquake.

When one's own adopted country goes back on one--there is small chance at the age of fifty-three.

Ever most gratefully, L. H.

I tried to join the Masons here--but it appears that no j.a.panese citizen is allowed to become a Mason--at least not in j.a.pan. The j.a.panese Minister in London could do it; but he could not have done it here.

TO MRS. HIRN

JULY, 1903.

DEAR MRS. HIRN,--Your very kind letter from Italy is with me.

I am sorry to know that you have met with so painful a trial since I last wrote to you. Indeed, I hope you will believe that I am sincerely and sympathetically interested in the personal happiness or sorrow of any who wish me well,--and you need never suppose me indifferent to the affairs of which you speak so unselfishly and so touchingly.

By this time, no doubt, you will have seen much of the fairest land of Europe, and will scarcely know what to do with the mult.i.tude of new impressions crowding in memory for special recognition. Perhaps Italy will tempt you to do something more than translate: one who becomes soul-steeped in that golden air ought to feel sooner or later the impulse to create. I wish I could find my way to Italy: when a child I spoke only Italian, and Romaic. Both are now forgotten.

Thanks for the magazine so kindly sent me, and thanks for your explanation of that rendering of "ewigt" as signifying endlessness in s.p.a.ce as well as time. That, indeed, settles the matter about which I was in doubt.

It is a pleasure to know that you received "Kotto," and liked some things in it. I thought your list of selections for translation very nice,--with one exception. "The Genius of j.a.panese Civilization" is a failure. I thought that it was true when I wrote it; but already j.a.pan has become considerably changed, and a later study of ancient social conditions has proved to me that I made some very serious sociological errors in that paper. For example, in feudal times, up to the middle of the last century, there was really no possibility of travelling (for common people at least) in j.a.pan. Iron law and custom fettered men to the soil, like the serfs of mediaeval Europe. My paper, unfortunately, implied the reverse. And that part of the paper relating to the travelling of j.a.panese common people is hopelessly wrong as regards the past. As regards the present, it requires modification.

Your remark about the hard touch in Bellesort's book is very just.... He was accompanied by his wife,--born in Persia, and able to talk Persian.

She was keener even than he,--a very clever silent woman, attractive rather than sympathetic.... Bellesort has been travelling a great deal; and "La Societe j.a.ponaise" is his best volume of travel. His book on South America is cruel.