The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn Volume II Part 6

TO ELLWOOD HENDRICK

MATSUE, October, 1891.

DEAR DEVILISHLY DELIGHTFUL OLD FELLOW,--I have been dancing an Indian war-dance of exultation in my j.a.panese robes, to the unspeakable astonishment of my placid household. After which I pa.s.sed two hours in a discourse in what my j.a.panese friends ironically term "The Hearnian Dialect." Subject of exultation and discourse,--the marriage of Miss Elizabeth Bisland. If she only knew how often I have written her name upon the blackboard for the eyes of the students of the Normal School to look upon when they asked me to tell them about English names! And they p.r.o.nounce it after me with a pretty j.a.panese accent and lisp: "_Aileesabbet Beeslan_!" Well, well, well!--you most d--nably jolly fellow!!

... Civilization is full of deadly perils in small things,--isn't it?

and horrors in large things--railroad collisions, steamboat explosions, elevator accidents,--all nightmares of machinery. How funny the quiet of this Oriental life. The other day a man brought a skin to the house to sell,--a foreign skin. Very beautiful the animal must have been, and the price was cheap. But the idea of murder the thing conveyed was horrible to me, and I was glad to find my folks of the same mind. "No, no!--we don't like to see it," they said. And the man departed, and in his heart pain was lord.

Oh! as for vacation, I always get two months, or nearly two months,--the greater part of July and all of August. This time I have been travelling alone with my little wife, who translates my "Hearnian dialect" into j.a.panese,--eating little dishes of seaweed, and swimming across all the bays I could find on the Izumo coast. They take me to be a good swimmer out here; but I am a little afraid to face really rough water at a distance from sh.o.r.e.--About getting to you, I don't really see my way clear to do it for another year or two--must wait till I feel very strong with the j.a.panese. Just now friend Chamberlain is trying to get me south, to teach Latin and English, at $200 per month, in a beautiful climate. I would like it--but the Latin--"_hic sunt leones!_" I am awfully rusty. Should I be offered the place and dare to take it, you would find me at k.u.mamoto, in Kyushu,--much more accessible than Matsue. I think I have a better chance of seeing you here than you of seeing me. But what a dear glorious chap you are to offer me the ways and means;--I'll never forget it, old boy--never!

Pretty to talk of "my pen of fire." I've lost it. Well, the fact is, it is no use here. There isn't any fire here. It is all soft, dreamy, quiet, pale, faint, gentle, hazy, vapoury, visionary,--a land where lotus is a common article of diet,--and where there is scarcely any real summer. Even the seasons are feeble ghostly things. Don't please imagine there are any tropics here. Ah! the tropics--they still pull at my heart-strings. Goodness! my real field was there--in the Latin countries, in the West Indies and Spanish-America; and my dream was to haunt the old crumbling Portuguese and Spanish cities, and steam up the Amazon and Orinoco, and get romances n.o.body else could find.

And I could have done it, and made books that would sell for twenty years yet. Perhaps, however, it's all for the best: I might have been killed in that Martinique hurricane. And then, I think I may see the tropics on this side of the world yet,--the Philippines, the Straits Settlements,--perhaps Reunion or Madagascar. (When I get rich!)

Besides, I _must_ finish my work on j.a.pan, and that will take a couple of years more. It is the hardest country to learn--except China--in the world. I am the only man who ever attempted to learn the people seriously; and I think I shall succeed. But there is work ahead--phew!

I have sent away about 1500 pp. MSS., and I have scarcely touched the subject--merely broken ground.

... Fact is, there is only one way to really marry a j.a.panese legally,--to be adopted into a j.a.panese family after marrying the daughter, and so become a j.a.panese citizen. Otherwise the wife loses her citizens.h.i.+p--a terrible calamity to a good girl. She would have to live in the open ports, unless I could always live in the interior. And the children--the children would have no rights or prospects in j.a.pan.

I don't see any way out of it except to abandon my English citizens.h.i.+p, and change my name to _Koizumi_,--my wife's name. I am still hesitating a little--because of the j.a.panese. _Would_ they try to take advantage, and cut down my salary? I am thinking, and waiting. But meantime, I am morally, and according to public opinion, fast married.

By the way, she would very much like to see E. B. If E. has a yacht, make her "sail the seas over" and come to this place; and she will be much pleased and humbly served and somewhat amused.

Well, so long, with best heart-wishes and thanks,

LAFCADIO HEARN.

I have accepted a new position, in Southern j.a.pan.

Oh! read Zola's "L'Argent"--you will appreciate it. There are delicious _financial_ characters in it. For goodness' sake, don't read a translation.

TO SENTARO NIs.h.i.+DA

k.u.mAMOTO, 1891.

DEAR FRIEND NIs.h.i.+DA,--Your very welcome letter came to-day. I was beginning to be anxious about you, as my cook, who arrived here only yesterday, said that it was extremely cold in Matsue; and I was afraid the bitter weather might have given you cold. I am very glad you are taking care of yourself....

I am now a little more reconciled to k.u.mamoto; but it is the most uninteresting city I was ever in, in j.a.pan. The famous shrines of Kato Kiyomasa (the Kato-sha and the Hommyoji) are worth visiting; they are at Akitagun, a little outside the town. The city is packed with soldiers. Things are dear and ugly here--except silks. This is quite a place for pretty silks, and they are cheaper than in Matsue: but there is nothing pretty in the shape of lacquer-ware, porcelain, or bronze. There is no art, and there are no _kakemonos_, and no curio-shops.

The weather here is queer--something like that of the Pacific slope, a few hundred miles north of San Francisco. The nights and the mornings are cold; and at sunrise, you see the ground covered with white frost, and mists all over the hills. But by noon it gets warm, and in the afternoon even hot; then after sundown it turns cold again.

Mr. Kano was too modest when he told me there were other teachers who spoke English better than he. There are not. He speaks and writes better English than any j.a.panese I know. However, there is a Mr. Sak.u.ma here, from Kyoto, who has a very uncommon knowledge of _literary_ English: he has read a great deal, has a good library, and has made a special study of Old English and Middle English. He teaches literature (English) and grammar, etc. Mr. Ozawa (_I think_) is the second English teacher: I like him the best personally. He has that fine consideration for others which you have,--and which is not a common quality of men anywhere. He speaks French. The Head-master, Mr. Sakurai, a young and very silent man, also speaks French. Nearly all the teachers speak English,--except the delightful old teacher of Chinese, who has a great beard and a head like Socrates. I liked him at once,--just as I liked Mr. Katayama at first sight. I wonder if there is anything in the learning of Chinese which makes men amiable. Perhaps it is the constant need of patience and the aesthetic sentiment also involved by such studies, that changes or modifies character so agreeably. I don't know much, however, about the teachers yet. I say good-morning and good-evening, and sit in my corner, and smoke my pipe. So far they all seem very gentle and courteous. I think I shall be able to get along pleasantly with them; but I don't think I shall become as friendly with any of them as I was with you. Indeed there is n.o.body like you here--no chats in the ten minutes,--no curious information,--no projects and discoveries. I often look at your pretty little tea-tray, with the _semi_ and the dragonflies upon it,--and wish I could hear your voice at the door....

LAFCADIO HEARN.

I have become very strong, and weigh about 20 lbs. more than I did last summer. But I can't tell just why. Perhaps because I am eating three full meals a day instead of two. My house is not quite so large as the one I had in Matsue. We are five here now--myself and wife, the cook, the _kurumaya_, and O-Yone. It was very funny about O-Yone when she first came. n.o.body could understand her Izumo dialect (she is from Imaichi); but both she and the _kurumaya_ can now get along. The hotels here are outrageously expensive: at least some of them. I cannot recommend the s.h.i.+rakuin for cheapness. I paid, including tea-money, 24 yen for 6-1/2 days. No more of that!

About the boys? Yes, Otani writes to me, and Azukizawa,--and I got a charming letter from Tanabe, late of the 5th Cla.s.s.

I was surprised to hear of the decision of the Council. But I cannot help thinking this is much better than that the boys should be taught by a missionary; 99 out of 100 will not teach conscientiously and painstakingly. And a clever j.a.panese teacher can do so much. I have now no one to prepare some of my cla.s.ses for the English lesson; and I know what it means. The main use of a foreign teacher is to teach accent and conversational habits. But I suspect that within another generation few foreign teachers will be employed for English--except in higher schools and for special purposes. There will be thousands of j.a.panese teachers, speaking English perfectly well. I hope you will be the new Director.

Please kindly remember me to Mr. Sato, Mr. Katayama, Mr. Nakamura (I wish I could hear him laugh now), and all friends.

P. S. Setsu insists that I shall tell you that the _kurumaya_ of this town are _oni_, and that one must be careful in hiring them;--so that if you should come down here when the weather is better, you must be as careful as in Tokyo,--where they are also _oni_. Also that rent is high: my house is eleven yen. But with any Izumo cook, living is just as cheap as in Matsue; and there is much good bread and meat and sake and food of all kinds.

I am sorry about that Tamatsukuri affair; for I wrote, as you will see, words of _extreme_ praise,--never suspecting such possibilities. Why, the first duty of gentlemen is to face death like soldiers,--not like sailors on a sinking s.h.i.+p, who stave in the casks--sometimes. However, don't such things make you wish for the chance to do the same duty better? They do me. That is one good effect of a human weakness: it makes others wish to be strong and to do strong things.

TO MASAn.o.bU OTANI

k.u.mAMOTO, November, 1891.

MY DEAR OTANI,--I have just received your most kind letter, for which my sincerest thanks. But I don't want to correct it, and send it back to you: I would rather keep it always, as a pleasant remembrance.

It has been very cold in k.u.mamoto--a sharp frost came last night, with an icy wind. Everybody says such cold is extraordinary here; but I am not quite sure if this is really true, because they have told me everywhere I have been during the last twenty years: "Really we never saw such weather before."

k.u.mamoto is not nearly so pretty a city as Matsue, although it is as neat as Tenjin-machi. There are some very beautiful houses and hotels, but the common houses are not so fine as those of Matsue. Most of the old s.h.i.+zoku houses were burned during the Satsuma war, so that there are no streets like Kita-bori-machi, and it is very hard to find a nice house. I have been fortunate enough to find one nearly as nice as the one I had in Matsue, but the garden is not nearly so pretty; and the rent is eleven dollars--nearly three times more than what I paid in Matsue. There is, of course, no lake here, and no beautiful scenery like that of s.h.i.+nji-ko; but on clear days we can see the smoke rising from the great volcano of Aso-san.

As for the Dai Go Koto-Chugakko, the magnificence of it greatly surprised me. The buildings are enormous,--of brick for the most part; and they reminded me at first sight of the Imperial University of Tokyo. Most of the students live in the school. There is a handsome military uniform; but all the boys do not wear it,--some wear j.a.panese clothes, and the rules about dress (except during drilling-time, etc.) are not very strict. There is no bell. The cla.s.ses are called and dismissed by the sound of a bugle. There are ten minutes between cla.s.s-hours for rest; but the buildings are so long, that it takes ten minutes to walk through them to the teacher's room, which is in a separate building. Two of the teachers speak French, and six or seven English: there are 28 teachers. The students are very nice,--and we became good friends at once. There are three cla.s.ses, corresponding with the three higher cla.s.ses of the Jinjo Chugakko,--and two higher cla.s.ses. I do not now teach on Sat.u.r.days. There are no stoves--only _hibachi_. The library is small, and the English books are not good; but this year they are going to get better books, and to enlarge the library. There is a building in which _ju-jutsu_ is taught by Mr. Kano; and separate buildings for sleeping, eating, and bathing. The bath-room is a surprise. Thirty or forty students can bathe at the same time; and four hundred can eat at once in the great dining-hall. There is a separate building also for the teaching of chemistry, natural history, etc.; and there is a small museum.

You have been kind enough to offer to find out for me something about s.h.i.+nto. Well, if you have time, I will ask you to find out for me as much as you can about the _miya_ of the household,--the household shrine and _kamidana_ in Izumo. I would like to know what way the _kamidana_ should face--north, south, east, or west.

Also, what is the origin of the curious shape of the little stoppers of the _omiki-dokkuri_?

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Also, whether the ancestors are ever wors.h.i.+pped before the _kamidana_ in the same way as they are wors.h.i.+pped before the _butsudan_.

Are the names of the dead ever written upon something to be placed in the _miya_, in the same way, or nearly the same way, as the _kaimyo_ is written upon the _ihai_ or Buddhist mortuary tablet.

In the s.h.i.+nto wors.h.i.+p of _family_ ancestors (if there is any such wors.h.i.+p, which I doubt), what prayers are said?

Are any particular _family_-prayers said by Buddhists when praying before the _kaimyo_, or do the common people utter only the ordinary prayer of their sect--such as "_Namu Amida Butsu_," or, "_Namu Myoho Rengekyo_?"

But do not give yourself too much trouble about these things, and take your own time;--in a month, or two months, or even three months will be quite time enough. And if you have no time, do not trouble yourself about it at all; and write to me that you cannot, or would rather not,--then I will ask some one who is less busy.

I shall be hoping really to see you in k.u.mamoto next year. You would like the school very much. Perhaps you would not like the city as well as Matsue; but the school is not in the city exactly; it is a little outside of it, and you would live in the school, probably,--or very near it. The students make excursions to Nagasaki and other places, by railroad and steamer.

Now about your letter. It was very nice. You made a few mistakes in using "_will_,"--and in saying "if I would have promote my school." It ought to have been "if I should go to a higher school."

"This will be a bad letter" ought to have been "I fear this _is_ ...

etc." But you and I and everybody learn best by making mistakes.

With best remembrance from your old teacher, believe me

Ever truly yours, LAFCADIO HEARN.