Yours faithfully, LAFCADIO HEARN.

I have reopened the envelope to acknowledge your interesting sketch of Edward Carpenter.... What an attractive personality.

But I fear that I must shock you by my declaration of non-sympathy with much of the work of contemporary would-be reformers. They are toiling for socialism; and socialism will come. It will come very quietly and gently, and tighten about nations as lightly as a spider's web; and then there will be revolutions! Not sympathy and fraternity and justice--but a Terror in which no man will dare to lift his voice.

No higher condition of human freedom ever existed than what America enjoyed between--let us say, 1870 and 1885. To effect higher conditions, a higher development of human nature would have been necessary. Where have American liberties now gone? A free press has ceased to exist.

Within another generation publishers' syndicates will decide what the public shall be allowed to read. A man can still print his thoughts in a book, though not in any periodical of influence; within another twenty years he will write only what he is told to write. It is a pleasure to read the brave good things sometimes uttered in prints like the _Conservator_ or _The Whim_; but those papers are but the candlesticks in which free thought now makes its last flickering. In the so-called land of freedom men and women are burnt at the stake in the presence of Christian churches--for the crime of belonging to another race.

The stake reestablished for the vengeance of race-hatred to-day, may to-morrow be maintained for the vengeance of religious hate--mocking itself, of course, under some guise of moral zeal. Compet.i.tion will soon be a thing of the past; and the future will be to your stock-companies, trusts, and syndicates. The rule of the many will be about as merciful as a calculating-machine, and as moral as a lawn-mower. What socialism means really no one seems to know or care. It will mean the most insufferable oppression that ever weighed upon mankind.

Here are gloomy thoughts for you! You see that I cannot sympathize with the Whitmanesque ideal of democracy. That ideal was the heart-felt expression of a free state that has gone by. It was in itself a generous dream. But social tendencies, inevitable and irresistible, are now impelling the dreamers to self-destruction. The pleasure that in other times one could find in the literature of humanity, of brotherhood, of pity, is numbed to-day by perception of the irresistible drift of things.

Ever faithfully yours, L. HEARN.

TO MRS. WETMORE

TOKYO, September, 1904.

DEAR MRS. WETMORE,--To see your handwriting again upon the familiar blue envelope was a great pleasure; and what the envelope contained, in the same precious text, was equally delightful ... excepting some little words of praise which I do not deserve, and which you ought not to have penned. At least they might have been altered so as to better suggest your real meaning--for you must be aware that as to what is usually termed "life" I have less than no knowledge, and have always been, and will always remain, a dolt and a blunderer of the most amazing kind....

I left the dedication of the "Miscellany" untouched,--because the book is not a bad book in its way, and perhaps you will later on find no reason to be sorry for your good opinions of the writer. I presume that you are far too clever to believe more than truth,--and I stand tolerably well in the opinion of a few estimable people, in spite of adverse tongues and pens.

That little story of which you tell me the outline was admirable as an idea. I wish that you had sent me a copy of it. But you never sent me any of your writings, after I departed from New York--except that admirable volume of memories and portraits. Of course, that paper about the morals of the insect-world was intended chiefly (so far as there was any intention whatever) to suggest to some pious people that the philosophy of Evolution does not teach that the future must belong to the strong and selfish "blond beast," as Nietzsche calls him--quite the contrary. Renan hinted the same fact long ago; but he did not, perhaps, know how English biologists had considered the ethical suggestion of insect-sociology.

In spite of all mishaps, I did tolerably well last year--chiefly through economy;--made money instead of losing any. I have a professorship in Count Ok.u.ma's university (small fees but ample leisure); and I was able to take my boys to live with the fishermen for a month--on fish, rice, and sea-water (with sake, of course, for their sire). I have got strong again; and can use the right arm as well as ever for swimming....

The "rejected addresses" will shortly appear in book-form. The book is not what it ought to be--everything was against me--but it ought to suggest something to somebody. I don't like the work of writing a serious treatise on sociology. It requires training beyond my range; and I imagine that the real sociologist, on reading me, must smile--

"as a Master smiles at one That is not of his school, nor any school, Save that where blind and naked Ignorance Delivers brawling judgement, unashamed, On all things, all day long."...

I ought to keep to the study of birds and cats and insects and flowers, and queer small things--and leave the subject of the destiny of empires to men of brains. Unfortunately, the men of brains will not state the truth as they see it. If you find any good in the book, despite the conditions under which it was written, you will recognize your share in the necessarily ephemeral value thereof.

May all good things ever come to you, and abide.

Yours faithfully always, LAFCADIO HEARN.

TO H. FUJISAKI

SEPTEMBER 26, 1904.[4]

DEAR CAPTAIN,--Your most welcome letter reached us to-day. It was a great pleasure to receive it, and to know that you are well and strong.

You have often been in my thoughts and dreams. And, of course, we have been anxious about you. But the G.o.ds seem to be taking good care of you; and your position is, from our point of view, supremely fortunate. That a bright future is before you, I cannot doubt,--in spite of the chances of war.

[4] The day of Hearn's death.

As you see the papers here, it will not be worth while to send you any general news. As for local news,--things are very quiet, just as when you were here. But many men of Okubo-mura have been summoned to the front. Nearly all the young gardeners, fruit-sellers, _kurumaya_, etc., have been called. So the district is, perhaps, a little more lonesome.

We had regiments stationed here for a while. When the soldiers were going away, they gave toys to the children of the neighbourhood. To Kazuo they gave a little clay-model of a Russian soldier's head, and one said: "When we come back, we will bring you a real one." We prize that funny little gift, as a souvenir of the giver and the time.

Summer was dry, hot, and bright--we had very little rain after July. But during July,--the early part,--it used to rain irregularly, in a strange way;--and with the rain there was much lightning. Several persons in Tokyo were killed by the lightning. I imagined that the war had something to do with the disturbed state of the atmosphere. After a heavy rain we generally had the news of a victory; so, when it began to rain hard, I used to say, "Ah! the Russians are in trouble again!"

We went to Yaidzu for about twenty days, and got strong and brown. Iwao was positively black when he returned. He learned to swim a little, and was able to cross the river on his back--where it was quite deep;--but the sea was rather too rough for him. We found that seventeen men of Yaidzu had been summoned to the war,--including several pleasant acquaintances.

Your good mother writes to us; and all your household seem to be as well and as happy as could be expected,--considering the natural anxieties of the war. Even for me, a stranger, the war has been trying; it was a long time before I could get used to the calling of the newspaper-lads, selling extras (_gogwai_). But the people of Tokyo have been very cheerful and brave. n.o.body seems to have any doubt as to the results of the campaign.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LAFCADIO HEARN'S GRAVE]

I am still hoping to see you next spring, or at latest in summer. For this hope, however, I have no foundation beyond the idea that Russia will probably find, before long, that she must think of something else besides fighting with j.a.pan. The commercial powers of the world are disturbed by her aggression; and industrial power, after all, is much more heavy than all the artillery of the Czar. Whatever foreign sympathy really exists is with j.a.pan. In any event Russia must lose Manchuria, I fancy.

What strange and unimagined experiences you must have been pa.s.sing through. Since the time of the great war between France and Germany, there were never such forces opposed to each other as those that met at Liaoyang. It seems to me a wonderful thing that I am able to send a letter to the place of so vast a contest.

I shall try to send you something to read of the kind you mention. My boys are writing to you--Kazuo in English; Iwao in his native language.

May all good fortune be with you is the sincere wish of your friend,

Y. KOIZUMI.

CONCLUSION

With Mrs. Hearn's quaint and tender record of Lafcadio Hearn's last days, his "Life and Letters" may fitly conclude.

About 3 P. M. Sept. 19th, 1904, as I went to his library I found him walking to and fro with his hands upon the breast. I asked him: "Are you indisposed?" Husband: "I got a new sickness."

"What is your new sickness?" Husband: "The heart-sickness." I: "You are always over anxious." At once I sent for our doctor Kizawa with a jinrikisha furnished with two riksha men. He would not let myself and children see his painful sight, and ordered to leave him. But I stayed by him. He began writing. I advised him to be quiet. "Let me do as I please," he said, and soon finished writing. "This is a letter addressed to Mr. Ume. Mr. Ume is a worthy man. He will give you a good counsel when any difficulty happen to you. If any greater pain of this kind comes upon me I shall perhaps die," he said; and then admonished me repeatedly and strongly that I ought to keep myself healthy and strong; then gave me several advices, hearty, earnest, and serious, with regard to the future of children, concluding with the words, "Could you understand?" Then again he said: "Never weep if I die. Buy for my coffin a little earthen pot of three or four cents worth; bury me in the yard of a little temple in some lonesome quarter. Never be sorry.

You had better play cards with children. Do not inform to others of my departure. If any should happen to inquire of me, tell him: 'Ha! he died sometime ago. That will do.'" I eagerly remonstrated: "Pray, do not speak such melancholy things. Such will never happen." He said: "This is a serious matter." Then saying "It cannot be held," he kept quiet.

A few minutes pa.s.sed; the pain relaxed. "I would like to take bath," he said. He wanted cold bath; went to the bath-room and took a cold bath.

"Strange!" he said, "I am quite well now." He recovered entirely, and asked me: "Mamma San! Sickness flew away from me. Shall I take some whiskey?" I told him: "I fear whiskey will not be good for heart. But if you are so fond of it I will offer it to you mixed with some water."

Taking up the cup, he said: "I shall no more die." He then told me for the first time that a few days ago he had the same experience of pain.

He lay down upon the bed then with a book. When the doctor arrived at our house, "What shall I do?" he said. Leaving the book, he went out to the parlour, and said "Pardon me, doctor. The sickness is gone." The doctor found no bad symptom, and jokes and chattering followed between them.

He was always averse to take medicine or to be attended by a doctor. He would never take medicine if I had not been careful; and if I happen to be late in offering him medicine he would say: "I was glad thinking you had forgot." If not engaged in writing, he used to walk in meditation to and fro in the room or through the corridor. So even in the time of sickness he would not like to remain quiet in confinement.

One day he told me in gladness: "Mamma San! I am very pleased about this." I asked him what it was. "I wrote this newspaper article: 'Lafcadio Hearn disappeared from the world.' How interesting! The world will see me no more--I go away in secret--I shall become a hermit--in some remote mountain, with you and with Kazuo."

It was a few days before his departure. Osaki, a maid, the daughter of Otokitsu of Yaidzu, found a blossom untimely blooming in one of the branches of cherry-tree in the garden. She told me about that. Whenever I saw or heard anything interesting I always told it to him; and this proved his greatest enjoyment. A very trifling matter was in our home very often highly valued. For instance, as the following things:--

To-day a young shoot appeared on a musa basjoo in the garden.

Look! an yellow b.u.t.terfly is flying there.

In the bamboo bushes, a young bamboo-sprout raised its head from the earth.

Kazuo found a mound made by ants.