The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn Volume II Part 33

You are the one who tries to minimize things, my dear friend, by a.s.suring me that there are thousands of ... people like yourself. I am glad to think that you _can_ believe thus well of the world; but I can't, and I should not be glad to think you were right. I prefer the exceptional. Then you will remember my philosophical theory that no two living beings have even the same voice, and that it is the uniqueness of each that has value. I should have to abandon my theories to accept your opinion of things in general, and I am prejudiced in favour of my theories.

Perhaps next week I can run down, and if that be not a good time for you, the week following. Anyhow the term will be over in about two weeks more, and--I hope--the cold. Tuesday deceived even the creatures of the spring. Hundreds of little frogs began to chant their song of birth, and flowers were opening everywhere. Now there is no sound of a frog. They woke up too soon, the creatures,--and the flowers look as if they were dying of consumption. In your hotel you don't know all this--because you keep up the atmosphere of the Bermudas under that roof. In Us.h.i.+gome we are practically in the country, and observe the seasons.

Affectionately, LAFCADIO.

TO MITCh.e.l.l McDONALD

TOKYO, March, 1898.

DEAR McDONALD,--Wasn't I lucky in deciding to get back early last night?

It would have been no easy matter getting back this morning--everything is drowned in snow! That was the reason of yesterday's atrocious cold.

Verily I was inspired by the G.o.ds--both as to going and returning.

This morning I woke up with an extreme feeling of comfort and lightness--which reminded me that something very pleasant must have happened the day before,--and I heard the U.S.C. cynically observing with a Mephistophelian smile, "Well, I guess our friend here will pull your chestnuts out of the fire for you!" And then I thanked all the host of heaven for that which had been, and also for that which would never again be. After all, I _am_ rather a lucky fellow,--a most peculiarly lucky fellow. Princ.i.p.ally owing to the note written some eight years ago by a certain sweet young lady whose portrait now looks down on me from the ceiling of No. 21 Tomihisa-cho, Ichigaya, Us.h.i.+gome-ku, in the city of Tokyo, j.a.pan.

I send with this "Some Chinese Ghosts" in awfully bad condition. Early work of a man who tried to understand the Far East from books,--and couldn't; but then, the real purpose of the stories was only artistic.

Should I ever reprint the thing, I would change nothing,--but only preface the new edition with a proper apology.

You remember my anecdote yesterday of the Memphis man--"What! a d--d n.i.g.g.e.r? I'd as soon shoot a n.i.g.g.e.r as I'd shoot a rat!" He was a very pretty boy, too. I forgot to tell you something also about him that occurs to me this morning. He was walking lame in a pair of top-boots one morning, and I asked him what was the matter. "Only these d--d boots," he said; "they've taken all the skin off my feet." "Haven't you another pair?" I asked. "Lots of 'em," he answered; "but I'm not going to _give in_ to these: I won't let 'em get the better of _me_!--I won't let them get the better of _me_!" I rather admired this vengeful and foolish pluck; and I am thinking now that I'd better follow the example.

Spite of all conditions I'm getting No. 6 book under way; and I won't _give in_ either to publishers or to public.

Loving thanks for yesterday's extraordinary enjoyableness and for all things. In haste.

Affectionately ever, LAFCADIO HEARN.

TO MITCh.e.l.l McDONALD

TOKYO, March, 1898.

DEAR McDONALD,--I am looking and looking for your last kind letter; but for the moment I cannot find it. So I must give it up for to-night, if I am to write you.

I'm through with the university; and I must get down to Yokohama, either to-morrow or Monday, and try to bore you, and to coax that story from Mrs. Burns (is that the name?),--but I shall make another visit later, if the weather allows. This will be only an expedition--partly in search of literary material. I feel I must get a few stories, to keep on the surface. Otherwise I'll get heavy and sink. I have been rather heavy lately. My dog-sketch has developed into such a nightmare that I myself am afraid of it, and don't want to think about it for a few days. Then I have just finished a short sketch, "In a Pair of Eyes"--considerably metaphysical. Such things may interest; but they will not touch hearts; and an author must try to get loved by his readers. So I shall forage.

Consul General Gowey gave me an agreeable start the other day by sending me a number of "The Philistine"--you know the little thing, very clever--with a pretended quotation from one of my books. The quotation, however, hit what I _think_,--though I never put the matter in just that shape. It was nice of the consul to send it--made me feel jolly. I must some day send him something to amuse him. Not to like him is impossible.

I think you must have hosts of friends now calling on you,--since the battle-powers of the great Republic are gathering out this way. I hope you won't have to get yourself killed for Uncle Sam; but if you have, I want to be in the conning-tower about the same time. I fancy, however, that Manila would not be a mouthful if the navy is ordered to gobble it; and that the chief result of the expedition to U. S. officers would be an uncommonly large and fine supply of cigars.

I have last week declined three dinners. It strikes me that the average university professor is circ.u.mstanced about thus:--

1. Twelve to fourteen lectures a week.

2. Average of a hundred official banquets per year.

3. Average of sixty private society-dinners.

4. Average of thirty to fifty invitations to charitable, musical, uncharitable, and non-musical colonial gatherings.

5. Average of a hundred and fifty social afternoon calls.

6. Average of thirty requests for contributions to j.a.panese publications.

7. Average of a hundred requests for pecuniary contributions from all sources.

8. Average of four requests per month for speeches or outside lectures.

9. Average of a hundred calls from students "wanting" things--chiefly to waste _the professor's_ time.

This is only about half the list. I say "No" to _everything_--softly, of course. Otherwise how should I exist, breathe, even have time to think?--much less write books? Oh dear, oh dear!--What a farce it is!

When they first started, they wanted the professors to wear a uniform of scarlet and gold. (I am sure about the gold--not quite sure about the scarlet.) The professors kicked at the gold,--luckily for themselves!

Ever affectionately, LAFCADIO.

TO MITCh.e.l.l McDONALD

TOKYO, March, 1898.

DEAR McDONALD,--Suns.h.i.+ne, warmth, and beauty in the world to-day; and suns.h.i.+ne and warmth of another sort in my heart--beautiful ghostly summer made by words and thoughts in Yokohama. "When the earth is still by reason of the South wind"--that is my mental world.

I am sending the photo of our friend, which reminds me that I was reproached very justly on reaching home last night. "But you did not bring your American friend's picture?... Forgot to put it into the valise?... Oh! but you _are_ queer--always, always dreaming! And don't you feel just a little bit ashamed?" I do feel ashamed, but more than a little bit.

Also I send you a little volume containing "The House and the Brain"--published in other editions under the t.i.tle "The Haunted and the Haunters." (Usually it is bound up with that tremendous story about the Elixir of Life,--the "Strange Story" of Bulwer Lytton.) Professor Saintsbury calls this the best ghost-story ever written. But you ought to read it at night only--after the hotel becomes silent.

By way of precaution I must make a confession. I shall not be able to eat again until about Tuesday noon, I think. The tiffins, dinners, "irresistibles," and above all that Blue Soul, were too much for me.

I am getting old, sure enough,--and when I go down again to Yokohama I must live in the most ascetic manner. I feel const.i.tutionally demoralized by all that luxurious living. Still, I must say that I suspect the sudden change of the weather is partly responsible for the feeling.

Now, really--don't you feel tired of all this talk? Of course I know--but the conditions are so much like those of old college friends.h.i.+ps that they seem more of dreams than of reality.

Ever affectionately, LAFCADIO.

TO MITCh.e.l.l McDONALD

TOKYO, April, 1898.

DEAR McDONALD,--Your kindest letter came last night. I must confess to a feeling of remorse for transferring all my troubles to your broader shoulders,--a remorse tempered somewhat, of course, by the certainty that you find a pleasure in helping your friend, but nevertheless, a remorse. So pray do not do anything more than you find it pleasant and inexpensive to do.

We are under the weather for the moment. We shall not be able to profit by the holidays. I have escaped cold and all other troubles; but I could not escape the generally depressing influence of this chilly, sunless, muddy, slimy season. In other words, I feel too stupid to do anything.

Probably the sight of the sun will make us all feel happy again.

Of course I shall be unhappy till I get your photos,--both military and civilian. I fear to ask too many; but all I can get, I want. Don't hurry; but--don't forget me, if you think I deserve to be remembered.

I am a little anxious lest war take you away from j.a.pan, which would leave me less satisfied with this world than I now am. But I should like indeed to accompany you in a descent on Manila, and to chronicle events picturesquely.

I should never be able, however, to do anything so wonderful as did Loti in describing the French attack on the coast of Annam. It was the greatest literary feat ever done by a naval officer; but it nearly cost him his place in the navy, and did in fact suppress him for several years. In his reissue of the narrative I see that he was obliged to suppress the terrible notes on the killing.

Ever affectionately, LAFCADIO HEARN.