TŌKYŌ, June, 1898.
DEAR WIZARD, MAGICIAN, THAUMATURGIST,--Your letter was wonderful. It
made things quite vivid before me; and I can actually see G. and M.
and the others you speak of (including myself, under the influence of
demophobia). Also you cannot imagine how much good such a letter does
a fellow in my condition. It is tonicky,--slips ozone of hope into a
consumptive soul. I must now keep out of blues for at least another
seven years.
Anyhow, things are about right. My little wife is getting strong again;
my eyes are all right; the examinations are over; the vacation begins;
Little, Brown & Company send me heaps of books; and we go to the seaside
as soon as I can manage it,--with an old pupil of mine,--an officer now
of engineers.
Speaking of pupils reminds me that just as you keep me from follies,
or mischief, by a bit of sound advice at times,--not to say by other
means,--so here I have learned to be guided by K.'s mamma. Indeed,
no Occidental-born could manage a purely Japanese household, or
direct Japanese according to his own light. Things are so opposite,
so eccentric, so provoking at times,--so impossible to understand. A
foreign merchant, for example, cannot possibly manage his own Japanese
clerks--he must trust their direction to a Japanese head clerk. And this
is the way all through the Orient,--even in Aryan India. Any attempt
to control everything directly is hopelessly mischievous. By learning
to abstain therefrom, I have been able to keep my servants from the
beginning, and have learned to prize some of them at their weight in
gold.
What I was going to say especially is in reference to pupils and
students. In Tōkyō students do everything everywhere for
or against everybody. They are legion,--they are ubiquitous. The
news-vender, the hotel-clerk, the porter of a mansion, the man-servant
of any large house is sure to be a student, struggling to live. (I have
had one for a year--a good boy, and inconceivably useful, who soon
enters the army.) A Tōkyō resident is _obliged_ to have students
about him. They are better guards than police, and better servants than
any servants. If you don't have a student or two, you may look out for
robbers, confidence-men, rowdies, trouble of all kinds at your house.
Students _police_ Tōkyō.
Well, I found I could not be familiar with my students. It spoiled
matters. I had to be a little unpleasant. Then reserved. As a
consequence all is admirable. Direct interference won't do. I have to
leave that to the lady of the house; and she can manage things without
ever getting angry. But another student, whom I am educating, _did_ give
me much heart-burning, until I became simply cruel with him. I should
have dropped him; but I was told: "You don't understand: have patience,
and wait." "But," I said, "his work is trash--worthless." "Never mind,"
was the answer, "wait and see!" At the end of the year, I am surprised
by the improvement and the earnestness. "You see," I am told, "that boy
was a spoiled child while his family were rich; but his heart is good.
He will do well yet." And I find this quite probable. How the Japanese
can manage with perfect gentleness and laughter what we cannot manage
by force or fraud or money, ought to be a lesson. And I sympathize with
this character--only, my own character is much too impatient and cranky
to allow of correct imitation.
I am, or have been, the teacher of men who, although insignificant in
English, are literary celebrities in their own tongue. Their portraits
are known over Japan; their poems and stories celebrated. Naturally
they feel proportionately averse to being treated as mere boys. Still,
an appeal to their honour, gently made, will sometimes work wonders. I
tried it the other day, by advice of the director, when there had been a
refusal to obey. He said: "Don't write to them; don't _order_ them: just
go and talk to them. You know what to say." And they obeyed--_in spite
of the fact that the whole room laughed at them for their change of
resolve_. There is hope for this class of men: if the university system
were better managed, they would be splendidly earnest....
Affectionately,
LAFCADIO HEARN.