I have had the shoryo-bune boxed and addressed to you, and a priest wrote for me the kaimyo upon the sail and the date of death, according to the usual custom. But you will not get the thing before three weeks, as I am forwarding it by express, and you know how slow the process is!

As for my letters, use anything you wish, and, if you desire, my name. The only matter is this: that I am so small a personage as an author that I am much in doubt whether the use of my name attached to any opinion would give the opinion more weight than if expressed impersonally. Unless it should, it might not be good for the book. I leave the decision entirely to you.

I have been reading Mr. Lowell's book over again; for it is one thing to read it in Philadelphia, and quite another thing to read it after having spent a year and a half in j.a.pan. And the power and the charm impress me more than ever. But I am so much horrified by its conclusions--at least a few of them--that I try very hard to find a flaw therein. I think the idea that the degree of the development of individuality in a people necessarily marks its place in the great march of mind is not true necessarily. At least it may be argued about. For as the tendency of the age is toward cla.s.s specialization and interdependent subdivision of all branches of knowledge and all practical application of that knowledge, the development of the individuality of every integer of a community would seem to me to unfit the unit to form a close part of any specialized cla.s.s. In brief, I doubt, or rather I wish to doubt, that the development of individuality is a lofty or desirable tendency. Much of what is called personality and individuality is intensely repellent, and makes the princ.i.p.al misery of Occidental life. It means much that is connected with pure aggressive selfishness: and its extraordinary development in a country like America or England seems a confirmation of Viscount Torio's theory that Western civilization has the defect of cultivating the individual at the expense only of the ma.s.s, and giving unbounded opportunities to human selfishness, unrestrained by religious sentiment, law, or emotional feeling.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CITY OF MATSUE]

What you say about your experience with j.a.panese poetry is indeed very telling and very painful to one who loves j.a.pan. Depth, I have long suspected, does not exist in the j.a.panese soul-stream. It flows much like the rivers of the country,--over beds three quarters dry,--very clear and charmingly beshadowed;--but made temporarily profound only by some pa.s.sional storm. But it seems to me that some tendencies in j.a.panese prose give hope of some beautiful things. There was a story some time ago in the _Asahi Shimbun_ about a _shirabyoshi_ that brought tears to my eyes, as slowly and painfully translated by a friend. There was tenderness and poetry and pathos in it worthy of Le Fanu (I thought of the exquisite story of Le Fanu, "A Bird of Pa.s.sage,"

simply as a superb bit of tender pathos) or Bret Harte--though, of course, I don't know what the style is. But the j.a.panese poem, as I judge from your work and the "Anthologie j.a.ponaise," seems to me exactly the j.a.panese coloured print in words,--nothing much more. Still, how the sensation of that which has been is flashed into heart and memory by the delicious print or the simple little verse.

I go to-morrow or the next day to Shimo-ichi. If you get the shoryo-bune, let me know. Any of your servants can, I think, fix the little masts and pennons in place. A small incense vessel and _kawarake_ with _dango_, or models of _dango_, might be added by Dr.

Tylor to the exhibit; but I suppose these are not essential.

With sincerest regards, ever truly,

LAFCADIO HEARN.

TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN

MATSUE, August, 1891.

DEAR MR. CHAMBERLAIN,--Before leaving, I must trouble you with another note or two.

For "Things j.a.panese," I would like to make a suggestion about the article "Theatre." The reference to O-Kuni seems to me extremely severe; for her story is very beautiful and touching. She was a _miko_ in the Great Temple of Kizuki, and fell in love with a _ronin_ named Nagoya Sanza, and she fled away with her lover to Kyoto. On the way, another _ronin_, who fell in love with her extraordinary beauty, was killed by Sanza. Always the face of the dead man haunted the girl.

At Kyoto she supported her lover by dancing the Miko-kagura in the dry bed of the river Kamogawa.

Then they went to Tokyo (Yedo) and began to act. Sanza himself became a famous and successful actor. The two lived together until Sanza died.

Then she came back to Kizuki. She was learned, and a great poet in the style called _renga_. After Sanza's death she supported herself, or at least occupied herself, in teaching this poetic art. But she shaved off her hair and became a nun, and built the little Buddhist temple in Kizuki called Rengaji, in which she lived, and taught her art. And the reason she built the temple was that she might pray for the soul of the _ronin_ whom the sight of her beauty had ruined. The temple stood until thirty years ago. Nothing is now left of it but a broken statue of Jizo. Her family still live in Kizuki, and until the restoration the chief of the family was always ent.i.tled to a share of the profits of the Kizuki theatre, because his ancestress, the beautiful _miko_, had founded the art.

So I would like to suggest that poor O-Kuni have a kind word said for her. And I am sure we would both think very highly of her if she were alive.

There is a little j.a.panese book about her history; but I do not know the t.i.tle. With best regards,

LAFCADIO.

TO PAGE M. BAKER

MATSUE, August, 1891.

DEAR PAGE,--I answer your dear letter at once, as you wished me to do. It reached me to-day, on my return from Kizuki, the Holy City of j.a.pan,--where I have become something of a favourite with the high pontiff of the most ancient and sacred shrine of the land,--which no other European was ever permitted to enter before me. And I am travelling now,--stopping at home only on my way to other curious and unknown places. For this part of j.a.pan is so little known that I was the first to furnish Murray's Guidebook editors with some information thereabout....

But I had unknown friends here who knew me through my "Chinese Ghosts"--so they applied to the Government for me, and I got an educational position under contract. The contract was renewed last March for a year--the extreme term allowed by law. My salary is only $100 per month; but that is equal here to more than double the sum in America.

So that I am able to keep up nearly the nicest house in town,--outside of a few very rich men,--to have several servants, to give dinners, and to dress my little wife tolerably nicely. Moreover, life in j.a.pan is something so placid and kindly and gentle--that it is just like one of those dreams in which everybody is good-natured about everything. The missionaries have no reason to like me,--for one had to be discharged to secure me; and I teach the boys to respect their own beautiful faith and the G.o.ds of their fathers, and not to listen to proselytism. However, the missionaries leave me alone. We have a tiff about Spencer in the _j.a.pan Mail_ sometimes; but as a rule I am completely isolated from all Europeans. It is only at long intervals one ever gets so far,--with the exception of an austere female stationed here in the vague hope of making a convert.

Of course I will send you a photograph of my little wife. I must tell you I am married only in the j.a.panese manner as yet,--because of the territorial law. Only by becoming a j.a.panese citizen, which I think I shall do, will it be possible to settle the matter satisfactorily. By the present law, the moment a foreigner marries a native according to English law, she becomes an English citizen, and her children English subjects, if she have any. Therefore she becomes subject to territorial laws regarding foreigners,--obliged to live within treaty limits, and virtually separated from her own people. So it would be her ruin to marry her according to English form, until I become a j.a.panese in law;--for should I die, she would have serious reason to regret her loss of citizenship.

As for going abroad--I mean back to you all--I don't know what to say. Just now, of course, I could not if I would; for I am under legal contract. Then my plans for a book on j.a.pan are but a quarter finished. Then, my little woman would be very unhappy, I fear, away from her people and her G.o.ds;--for this country is so strange that it is impossible for any who have never lived here for a long time to understand the enormous difference between the thought and feeling of the j.a.panese and our own. But, later on, perhaps I _must_ go back for a time to see about getting out a book. Then I will probably appeal to you for a year's employ or something. The Orient is more fascinating than you may suppose: here, remember, the people _really_ eat lotuses: they form a common article of diet. But no human being can tell exactly what the future has in store for him. So I cannot for the life of me say now what I shall do....

We are many years behind you here. In Matsue there is a little newspaper of which I must send you a copy as a curiosity. Every week or two there is an article in it about me. For "the foreigner's" every act is a subject for comment. There is no such thing in j.a.pan as privacy. There are no secrets. Every earthly thing a man does is known to everybody, and life is extravagantly, astoundingly frank. The moral effect is, in my opinion, extremely good,--though the missionaries, who lie hard about this country, say the reverse. Think of nothing but a paper screen dividing all your life from the lives about you,--a paper screen to poke a hole through, which is not considered outrageous, unless the screen be decorated with celebrated paintings. That is _common_ life here.

As for me, I have a secluded house, with three gardens round it. But, according to popular custom, I must never shut the door, or lock myself up except at night. One must not be nervous here, or impatient: it is impossible to remain either in such an atmosphere, or to be ill-natured, or to hide anything. And just think of it!--I having to give lectures and make speeches through an interpreter, which lectures and speeches are duly printed in a j.a.panese magazine! To speak before a j.a.panese audience, however, is delightful. One look at all the placid smiling faces rea.s.sures the most shrinking soul at once.

Well, at all events, I shall write you often, and send you something queer betimes. I must now get ready to take the little steamer by which I start.

With best regards to all, and to you best love, I remain,

LAFCADIO HEARN.

[Ill.u.s.tration: This is my legal seal.]

TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN

YABASE, August, 1891.

DEAR PROFESSOR CHAMBERLAIN,--I have discovered Yabase. No European seems to have ever been here before. On arriving at Shimo-ichi to see the Bon-odori, I found I had come three days too soon, and the little town is very hot and uncomfortable.

Well, Yabase is an extremely quiet, pretty little town, with a much better hotel than I have seen for quite a while,--and a superb beach.

Strange to say, there are no boats and n.o.body ever thinks of going into the sea, except children. So whenever I go to swim, the entire population crowd the beach to look on. Happily I am a very good swimmer,--could swim for twenty-four hours without fatigue. Thus the people have a _mezurashii mono_ to behold. Another queer thing about Yabase is that it is the only place I have seen in j.a.pan where there is no shrine of Inari. It is a strictly Buddhist town, and Nichiren prevails. There is a _yashiro_ on a neighbouring mountain, however.

There is no Bon-odori here, one must go to the next town to see it, which I will do to-night. There has been much rough weather--tremendous seas breaking along the coast. At Kizuki I thought the hotel was going to be carried away; and all the approaches to it, bridges, etc., were dashed to pieces. Here, the sea is opposed by a loftier coast, but it becomes something one cannot laugh at on a windy day.

I must tell you an incident of the revival of pure Shinto. At Kizuki, until very recently, two of the hotels were kept by families belonging to some Buddhist sect, as well as to the Kizuki sect of Shinto, and so in their establishments, as in nearly every Izumo household, there was a _butsudan_ as well as a _kamidana_. But some pilgrims who came to Kizuki, full of fiery Shinto zeal, were wroth to see a _butsudan_ in the inns of the Sacred City, and girded up their loins, and sought out an hotel where no Buddha was, and went there,--and sent out word to their fellow pilgrims. The result has been that all the hotels in Kizuki have suppressed Buddhism, or at least its externals: they have become pure Shinto. This incident is rather anomalous, but it is a confirmation of what I said before, regarding the predominance of Shinto.

From Mionoseki, I hope to send you some _o fuda_ of interest. The prospects of getting to Oki are growing small, however,--for the time being.

P.S. Alas! I have not discovered Yabase! Some detestable missionary was here before me--for one hour only, it is true, but he was here!--And to-day, being a day of high surf, there came down to the beach with planks, divers boys, who swam far out and came in, as the Americans say, "a-kite-ing," on the crests of waves--swimming unspeakably well, after the fashion of the Polynesian islanders. So that I feel small! I offered to teach them what I know in exchange for instruction as to how to come "a-kite-ing" on the top of a wave.

As for the little j.a.panese pipe:--

I cannot think that its form and dimensions simply evidence the j.a.panese fondness for "small things." The ancient Samurai pipes, of which I have seen many fine specimens, were very much larger than the modern _kiseru_. The pipe seems to me rather the natural evolution of a utensil in its relation to the domestic life of j.a.pan. The little pipe is admirably adapted to the multifarious interruptions of j.a.panese occupations. Long-sustained effort, protracted and unbroken study, are things foreign to j.a.panese existence. The Western pipe is good between the teeth of a man trained to remain on duty without remission of mental labour or relaxation of muscle for five or six hours at a stretch. But the j.a.panese idea of labour is blessed and full of interruptions as his year is full of _matsuri_. Thus, the little pipe, with its three conventional whiffs, exactly suits his wants. Its artistic evolution is also a matter worthy of study. Some of the best metal-work has been done upon it. From the pipe of 3 sen to the pipe of 30 yen, there is as great a range of artistic design and finish as in the realm of _kakemono_.

Pipes of silver are the fashion. Without engraving, the silver must be very heavy. If the two metal parts be elaborately engraved and inlaid, the metal may be made as light as possible. A really fine pipe becomes an heirloom.

The introduction of European costume among the cla.s.s of officials and teachers necessarily produced a change in the smoking paraphernalia which formed a part of the native j.a.panese outfit. The _tabako-ire_ was reshaped, so as to accommodate itself to a breast or side pocket, and the little pipe shortened so as to be enclosed without the tobacco pouch, much as a pencil is enclosed in a pocket-book. Many beautifully designed things thus came into existence. A nice small pipe of silver may now be had to order for about 3 yen,--(designed). The _netsuke_ has, of course, no place in this form of the _tabako-ire_. I have collected over a hundred different forms of the new pipe. This has no bamboo: the whole thing is one solid piece of metal. The best are inlaid or engraved:--the bowl and mouthpiece (at least) being usually of silver, worked into steel or bra.s.s.

Pipes with long stems are preferable for house use. They do not burn the tongue so quickly as the short pipe. However, the tobacco itself has much to do with this matter. Those joros, geishas, and others, who smoke the greater part of the time, use a special tobacco which does not blister the tongue or lips.

With the pipe for an evolutionary centre, a whole intricate and complex world of smoking-furniture has come into existence,--of which the richest specimens are perhaps those lacquered _tabako-bon_ for the use of aristocratic ladies, with plated or solid silver _hibachi_ and _haif.u.ki_. The winter _hibachi_ for smoking purposes has, of course, many forms;--some of the daintiest being those invented for use in theatres, to be carried in the hand. The smoker, who finds a handsome bronze _hibachi_ placed before him on a winter's day, is not supposed to empty his pipe into it by knocking the metal head of the pipe upon the rim: if genteel, he will always insert the leather flap of his tobacco pouch between the pipehead and the _hibachi_--so as to prevent the tapping of the pipehead from causing a dent in the bronze. At present the most genteel _tabako-bon_ for summer use has a small cup of bronze, instead of the usual cup of porcelain. The smoker empties his pipe, not into the _hibachi_ of bronze or porcelain, but into the bamboo _haif.u.ki_ which is an indispensable part of the summer _tabako-bon_.

The foreigner who uses the j.a.panese pipe commences his experience with that apparently simple article by burning small round holes in everything near him--the _tatami_, the _zabuton_, and especially his own _yukata_ or _kimono_. The small pellet of ignited tobacco contained in the _kiseru_ becomes, after a few whiffs, a fiery pill, loose, and ready to leap from the pipe at a breath. Wherever it falls, it pierces holes like a red-hot shot. But the j.a.panese expert smoker rarely burns anything. He draws from his pipe at the very most three whiffs and at once empties it into the _haif.u.ki_. To smoke a j.a.panese pipe to the bottom, moreover, results in clogging up the pipe. The art of cleaning it out afterwards is quite elaborate. A common plan is to heat the pipehead in the charcoal of the _hibachi_, and then blow out the refuse.

But this method corrodes and spoils a fine pipe. The cleaning of the fine pipe must be done with a twist of tough fine paper pa.s.sed up the stem and pulled out through the head.

Besides smoking-furniture, a special code of politeness has been evolved around the j.a.panese pipe.