TO MITCHELL McDONALD

TŌKYŌ, August, 1898.

DEAR McDONALD,--I am sending you two of Zola's books, and a rather

complex social novel by Maupassant--not, any of them, to be returned. I

recommend "Rome" only; the others will just do to lend to friends, or to

read for the sake of the French, when you have nothing better on hand.

What a glorious day we did have! Wonder if I shall ever be able to make

a thumbnail literary study thereof,--with philosophical reflections. The

naval officer, the Buddhist philosopher, and the wandering evolutionist.

The impression is altogether too sunny and happy and queer to be forever

lost to the world. I must think it up some day.

My back feels to-day as if those little sand-crabs were running over it;

but the pain is nearly all gone. I shall be ready for another swim in a

day or two.

And that supper at the Grand Hotel! I am awfully demoralized

to-day--feeling gloriously well, but not in a working mood. A week

more of holidays would ruin me! Discomfort is absolutely necessary for

literary inspiration. Make a man perfectly happy, and what has he to

work for? Nothing shall disturb my "ancient solitary reign" excepting

the friends with whom I yesterday imposed upon the patience of certain

crabs,--who suddenly found themselves facing a problem for which all

their inherited experience had left them supremely unprepared.

Too soon we shall have winter upon us again; and I shall be struggling

with problems of university-student peculiarities;--and I shall be

working wonderfully hard at a new book. There will be all kinds of

dull, dark, tiresome days; but whenever I want I can call back the

summer sun,--simply by closing my eyes. Then, in blue light, between

sand and sea-line, I shall discern a U.S. naval officer in Cape May

costume, and a Buddhist philosopher, busied making little holes in the

beach,--sapping and mining the habitations of small horrified crabs.

Also I shall see a lemon yellow sky, with an amethystine Fuji cutting

sharply against it. And many other things,--little dreams of gold.

Affectionately ever,

LAFCADIO.

The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn, Volume 2 · 第 315 / 436 题