TŌKYŌ, 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 Okuma'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.