DEAR HENDRICK,-- ... My household relations have turned out to be
extremely happy, and to bind me very fast here at the very time that I
was beginning to feel like going away. It does not now seem possible
for me ever to go away. To take the little woman to another country
would be to make her extremely unhappy; for no kindness or comfort could
compensate for the loss of her own social atmosphere--in which all
thoughts and feelings are so totally different from our own.
I find literary work extremely difficult here. The mental air about one
has a totally disintegrating effect upon Western habits of thinking;--no
strong emotion, no thrills or inspirations ever come to me, so I am
still in doubt how to work. Whether I shall ever be able to make a
really good book on Japan is still a question; but if I do, it will
require years of steady dry work, without one real flash in it. The
least fact in this Oriental life is so different from ours, and so
complex in its relationship to other facts, that to explain it requires
enormous time and patience.
I was made a little homesick by your letter about New Orleans,
mentioning so many familiar names. It brought back many pleasant
memories.
Ah! you are in a dangerous world now. You will meet some charming,
unsophisticated Southern girl, so much nicer than most Northern girls,
that the South may fascinate you too much.
My correspondents have all dropped off except you. Sometimes a
letter wanders to me--six months old--announcing my nomination as
vice-president of some small literary society; but the outer world is
slowly and surely passing away. At the same time the harder side of
Japanese character is beginning to appear--in spots. The women are
certainly the sweetest beings I have ever seen, as a general rule: all
the good things of the race have been put into them. They are just
loving, joyous, simple-hearted children with infinite surprises of
pretty ways. About the men,--one never gets very close to them. One's
best friends have a certain far-offness about them, even when breaking
their necks to please you. There is no such thing as clapping a man
on the back and saying, "Hello! old boy!" There is no such thing as
clapping a fellow on the knee, or chucking a fellow under the ribs.
All such familiarities are terribly vulgar in Japan. So each one has
to tickle his own soul and clap it on the back, and say "Hello" to it.
And the soul, being Western, says: "Do you expect me always to stay in
this extraordinary country? I want to go home, or get back to the West
Indies, at least. Hurry up and save some money." As it is, I have two
hundred dollars saved up, even after dressing my little wife like a
queen.
And now I am about to journey to outrageous places, among very strange
gods. Good-bye for a while.
Ever most affectionately,
LAFCADIO HEARN.