Part 9
Yet what does it mean? Certainly it pollutes literature, creates and fosters a hundred vices, accentuates the misery of those devoted by the law of life as the victims of lust. It turns art from Nature to sex. It cultivates one æsthetic faculty at the expense of all the rest. And yet--perhaps its working is divine behind all that veil of vulgarity and lustfulness. It is cultivating also, beyond any question, a capacity for tenderness the Orient knows nothing of. Tenderness is not of the Orient _man_. He is without brutality, but he is also without that immense reserve force of deep love and forgiving-power which even the rougher men of the West have. The Oriental is intellectually, rationally capable of all self-sacrifice and loyalty: he does the noblest and grandest things without even the ghost of a tender feeling. His feeblest passion is that of sex, because with him the natural need has never been starved or exasperated. He marries at sixteen or seventeen perhaps,--is a father of two or three children at twenty. All that sort of thing for him belongs to the natural appetites: he would no more talk about his wife or tell you he had a child born, than he would tell you that his organs performed their function regularly at 6.30 A.M. He is ashamed of appearing to have any sexual love at all in public;--and his family live all their lives in the shadow--do not appear to visitors. Well, his nature may lose something by this. It loses certainly in capacities that mean everything for us--tenderness, deep sympathy, a world of sensations not indeed sexual with us, yet surely developed out of sexualism to no small extent,--just as the sense of moral beauty developed out of the sense of physical beauty.
I guess this must bore you, however. More anon of other matters.
Ever faithfully, LAFCADIO HEARN.
TO ELLWOOD HENDRICK
KUMAMOTO, June, 1893.
DEAR HENDRICK,--I am not quite sure that you are right about the Oriental view of things. It is very difficult to understand at first. It is not want of refinement or sensibility to beautiful things. It is rather a tendency to silence and secrecy in regard to the highest emotions. So that a cultivated Japanese never even speaks of his wife and family, or hints of his fondness for them. Of course, our idea is nobler and higher. But it is a question with me whether it cannot be, and has not been, developed to excess. I think we have filled the whole universe with an ideal of woman. Star-swarms and all cosmical glories exist for us only in an infinity of passional pantheism. I suspect that we see Nature especially through the beauty of woman. A splendid tree, a fragrant bud, delicacy of petals, songs of birds, undulations of hills, mobility of waters, sounds of foliage, murmur of breezes and their caress, laughter of streamlets, even the gold light--do not all these things remind us of woman? You might cite the ruggedness of oaks and the grimness of crags as masculine. True, we have visions of Nature as masculine--for rugged and mighty contrasts. But how enormously preponderant is the eternal feminine! Even our language is a language of gender,--in which I think the feminine predominates. But in our thought the masculine at once suggests the feminine, and creates a new idea. All precious things, too, remind us of what is not masculine, because "far and from the uttermost coasts is the price of _her_."
Now the Oriental sees Nature in no such way. His language has no gender. He does not think of a young girl when he sees a palm, nor of the lines of a beautiful body when he sees the undulations of the hills. Neither does he see Nature as masculine. He sees it as _neuter_. His geographical nomenclature shows this. He sees things as they are. The immediate inference would be that he finds less enjoyment in them. But his art shows that he finds _more_. He sees in Nature much that we can't see at all. He sees beauty in stones,--in common stones,--in clouds, fogs, smoke, curling water, shapes of trees, shapes of insects. In my friend's alcove is a stone. When you can learn that that stone is more beautiful than a beautiful painting, you can begin to understand that there is another way of seeing Nature. In my own garden there are a number of large stones. Their value is seven hundred dollars. No American would give five cents for them--no! he would not dream of taking them as a gift--no! he would consider himself highly insulted by the offer! Then why are they worth seven hundred dollars? Because they are beautiful. You would say: "I can't see it!" You can't see it because you see all Nature through the idea of woman. And it is just faintly possible (I don't say certain) that our way--your way of seeing Nature is all wrong. It is like peeping through an atmosphere which makes everything iridescent and deflects the lines of forms.
Now, why do I suspect that our way of looking at Nature may not be the highest,--besides the plain fact that it is not according to the Eternal order of things? I suspect it because the evolution of the ideal has been chiefly physical. It has not been an ideal of soul. Is the soul of a woman more beautiful than that of a man--outside of maternal tenderness? You have just had a divine glimpse of two souls--excuse the personal question (for it is a highly important one): which seemed to you the largest and deepest?--in which were the glories more profound and radiant? And is it not essential that the woman-beauty of soul must be the lesser; for its scope must be limited by its eternal duty. We are in the presence, however, of the undeniable fact that we rarely get glimpses of the higher possibilities of the man-soul. Life is too hard and bitter. But in the twilight of every home one sees the woman-souls glowing like fireflies. We think only of the lights we see. The circling darknesses are opaque to us,--like burnt-out suns.
Reading over the list of things in your notebook I was impressed by several facts. It is well to set down everything that impresses you. But--I cannot help thinking that you do not look for the highest,--that you miss a universe of beautiful things. The obtrusive, the eccentric, the sharply bitter, the "Distorted Souls" as you call them, naturally compel attention first,--just as in real life the forward, the selfish, the aggressive, force themselves upon us. It is of the highest possible value, as a means of self-preservation, to understand them. But I suspect that it is of no value at all to draw them, to photograph them, to give them artistic treatment _except in a contrast-study_. They are not beautiful. They are not good. They are, using the word in the Miltonic sense, obscene--like owls. On the other hand the beautiful in life must be sought, and coaxed, and caressed to make it show its colours. It does not appear very often spontaneously. Yet I feel convinced it is all about us. It travels on railroads too, and lodges at hotels. It fights for life against ugliness and wickedness and apathy and selfishness: it is Ormuzd against Ahriman. Now what is the artist's moral duty? (Of course he may take any subject he pleases and be great in it.) But what is his duty in the eternal order of things, to art and to ethics? Is it not to extract the gold from the ore,--the rubies and emeralds from the rubble? I think it is--though many may laugh at me. Thus newer and higher ideals are created. We advance only by new ideals. I don't mean to say we should make statues of pure gold, or a table, like that of some Caliph, out of a single emerald. But I think that in modern life we should use the dross and slag only when their lightness, worthlessness, or rudeness brings out in higher relief the light of the pure jewel, the weight of the pure metal, the value of that which gives the radiance or the gravity. And in the order of research I would seek the lodes and veins first;--the rest is always easy to find and handle, though requiring much scientific skill, of course, to use artistically.
There _is_ a world, I suppose, almost as barren as the Alkali Plains, where convention has strangled all feeling, and where the development of selfish capacities has choked the other growths. But either below this world or above it there are Americas to discover--full of warmth, light, and beauty--continents chained to each other by snow-peaks, watered by Amazons and Mississippis.
Below, I think, more than above,--for the nearer to Nature, the nearer to truth. And the value, artistically, of our high-pressure civilization seems to me to be that its monstrosities and glooms and tragedies infernal give an opportunity for the grandest contrasts ever made. What I would pray you to do is "to put a lily in the mouth of Hell"--using one of Carlyle's phrases. Then the petals of the lily will change into pure light, like those of the Lotus of Amida Buddha....
Good-bye, with affectionate wishes,
LAFCADIO HEARN.
TO ELLWOOD HENDRICK
KUMAMOTO, July, 1893.
DEAR HENDRICK,--To continue from my last:--
It seems to me you might have mistaken my meaning in my half-criticism of the contents of your notebook. I don't wish you should think I find any fault with them _per se_. Indeed you cannot set down too much. Only I think you have been collecting only shadow-and-fire material. You have no sky-blues,--no rose and violet and purple and gold-yellow,--no cadmium, no iridescences. You have that which will give them all value--artistic value. Even if you have only one light for ten darknesses, it will be enough to illume them all.
And now for Ego and Egotisms. In my home the women are all making baby-clothes,--funny little Japanese baby-clothes. All the tender Buddhist divinities, who love little children, have been invoked except one,--he who cares for them only when they are dead, and plays little ghostly games with them in the shadowy world. Letters of congratulation come from all directions, and queer, pretty presents; for the announcement of pregnancy is a subject of great gladness in Japan. And one theme of rejoicing is that the child will look more like a Japanese than the children of other foreigners, because the father is dark. Behind all this, of course, there is a universe of new sensations,--new ideas,--revelations of things in Buddhist faith and in the religion of the more ancient gods, which are very beautiful and touching. About the world an atmosphere of delicious, sacred naïveté,--difficult to describe, because resembling nothing in the Western world.--Some doubts and fears for me, of course; but they are passing away gradually. I have only some anxiety about _her_: still she is so strong that I trust the gods will be kind to us....
This summer I shall not be able to travel far. First, of course, I can't leave my little woman too long alone; second, I have proofs to correct; third, I am economizing. We have now nearly $3500 between us; and I want to try to provide for her as soon as I can,--so that once the chances of ill luck are off my mind, I can make a few long voyages to other places east of Japan. The Chinese ports are only a few days distant; and there is Manila, there is the French Orient to see. I hope to be able to do this in a few years more. You will be glad to hear I am very strong, though getting grey,--much stronger than I was at thirty.
Professor Chamberlain and I have a secret project in hand,--a book on Japanese folk-lore. Whether we can carry it out I do not know; but if the dear Professor's health keeps up we shall do something together....
Ever faithfully, LAFCADIO HEARN.
TO SENTARŌ NISHIDA
KUMAMOTO, August, 1893.
DEAR NISHIDA,--I got your kind letter,--and the money,--and the ballads; for all of which a thousand thanks. I feel you have been very, very kind in all this, even while you were sick: so that my poor thanks signify little of what I really feel towards you. It has given me much pleasure to hear of your being better; but I am disappointed at your being unable to travel,--very much disappointed, as I fear I will not be able to leave Kumamoto again this vacation....
I see that, as regards Kyūshū compared with Tōkyō, you take the moral aspect of the question, while I have possibly been ruled too much by the artistic side. I cannot fully understand the moral side, of course: I can only perceive that the Kyūshū students are allowed to dress as simply as possible,--are encouraged to be frugal and frank, and rough in their sports,--and are generally said to be extremely independent and what you call _katai_, isn't it? But whether they are really any better than Matsue students, I don't know. Certainly they have no pleasures to soften their minds. There is nothing to see, and nowhere to go. And Kyōto is the most delightful city in the whole of Japan. However, I suppose it has also temptations for students of a dangerous sort....
I had no luck with Kumagae Masayoshi, and was obliged to send the boy back to Oki, after he had worried and made unhappy everybody in the house. He was an extraordinarily clever boy,--both at school, and at everything he undertook,--extremely skilful with his hands, and almost diabolically intelligent. But he had no affection at all, and seemed to be naturally very cruel and cunning. He was strictly honest, and trustworthy,--for all that. But his character was supremely selfish and malignant. He made nasty songs about people, and sang them, and gave us the impression of being a small devil.
I am trying to do some literary work. Your ballad of Shuntoku-maru proved quite useful to me in the course of an essay I wrote on the difficulty experienced by Japanese in understanding a certain class of English poetry and fiction. It revealed a popular conception of things,--that ballad, which I took for an illustration, in showing the total unlikeness of Western to Oriental society--especially in the family relation; the absence of flirting and kissing and woman-worship which we have in the West. Indeed I think the great difficulty of mutual comprehension between the Japanese and the English is chiefly due to the predominance of _a feminine idea_ in our language, our art, and our whole conception of Nature. Therefore the Oriental can see aspects of Nature to which we remain blind....
LAFCADIO HEARN.
TO OCHIAI
KUMAMOTO, August, 1893.
MY DEAR OCHIAI,--It has given me much pleasure to hear of your success at the examinations. I wish you all good fortune for the coming year, and good health to aid you.
I want also to talk to you about another matter very much to your interest. Please pay attention to my words, and think about them. I only wish your happiness;--therefore remember that what I say deserves your attention and your thought.
I want to talk to you about Christianity, as a religion,--not as a _shū_, or sect. I hope you will understand the distinction I make. A religion is a moral belief which causes men to live honestly and to be kind and good to each other. A sect is made by a _difference_ of belief as to what is true religious teaching. Thus in Buddhism there are many sects or _shū_; and in Christianity, there are also many sects or _shū_. But it is not what makes the sects that has made Buddhism. Neither is it what has made the Christian sects that has made Christianity. Truth makes a religion--moral truth; sects are made by differences of opinion about the meaning of _kyō_, or the meaning of other sacred texts.
So much for this. I want now to tell you, as your friend, that it is _not_ Christianity to refuse to bow before the portrait of the Emperor, or before the tombs of the great dead. If anybody tells you that is Christianity,--that person is not a Christian, but a bigot, and an enemy of his country. Whenever we sing the English national anthem, we take off our hats. Whenever we enter into the presence of one of Her Majesty's representatives, we take off our hats. We stand up to drink Her Majesty's health. We are taught that the Queen rules by divine command. It is the same in Germany, in Austria, in Italy, in Spain,--in all except republican countries. So much for that. It is quite right, even for a Christian, to bow before the Emperor's picture;--it is loyal, noble, and good to do it. To refuse to do it is ignorant and vulgar. It is not Christian at all.
Now about the question of tombs and temples. What is the Christian custom? The Christian custom is to pay proper and just respect to the religion which other people believe in. If I go into a Christian church,--although I am not a Christian,--I must take off my hat. If I go into a Mohammedan mosque, I must take off my shoes. Such tokens of respect are purely social,--they are just and right. In Mexico, for example, when a religious procession passes, everybody who is polite takes off his hat. That means,--"Although I am not of your religion, I respect your religion,--your prayers to heaven, and your wish to be good."
Again, when a funeral goes by, we take off our hats. That means, "Although none of _my_ friends have died, I sympathize with your sorrow." It is courteous and it is right.
Whatever you believe, my dear Ochiai, you need never refuse to show respect to the tomb of an Emperor, to the memory of an ancestor, or the religion of another people or another country. Christianity teaches no such discourtesy. Only bigots teach it,--and even they teach it for reasons you are not able to understand. I do not want to question your religious belief at all;--that is not my duty. I want only to talk to you about social action in reference to _real_ religion. No honest religion ought to cause you any unhappiness, or to cause you to be blamed by others. Religion ought to be of the heart. It is not a question of hats and shoes. Do not refuse to show respect to honest customs and honest reverence for ancestors, by a bow, or a removal of the hat. It will injure your prospects in life to make ill will for yourself by refusing to show respect to the beliefs of your nation and country. Such respect has nothing to do with your faith;--it is a question of social politeness and gentlemanliness. And when you refuse, you will not be judged for your belief,--not at all. You will simply be thought vulgar,--not a true gentleman.
A true gentleman respects _all_ religions. That is the real Western idea. Do not deceive yourself.
This from your true friend and teacher,
LAFCADIO HEARN.
TO ELLWOOD HENDRICK
KUMAMOTO, August, 1893.
DEAR HENDRICK,-- ... And now for a letter. Your last two letters were full of curious things that call for no answer, but, in connection with foregoing ones, certainly invite comment. More and more, reading your lightning-flash glimpses of life, I think how terribly tragical modern life is becoming. What is its law? Is it not something like this?--
General: (1) Theoretically, you must be good. (2) Practically you must be not very good,--unless you wish to starve or live in the slime. (3) Reconcile these facts very intelligently, without making any blunders.
Special: (1) If you are not more intelligent than the average man, you must be both theoretically and practically good,--and resign yourself to remaining poor and despised all your blessed life. Don't kick: if you do, you'll die! (2) In proportion as you are more intelligent than your fellow man, the more to your interest to depart from abstract moral rules;--the more, indeed, you _must_. It is quite true that vice and crime lead to ruin. Still, you must perform your part of both without getting into trouble. If you don't, you will die. (3) Reconcile intelligently these seeming contradictions.
The contradictions can only be fully recognized and reconciled through a profound knowledge of social conditions, not in the abstract only, but in the most complex operation. This is the theoretical recognition. But the practical recognition requires special hereditary gifts,--intuitions,--instincts,--powers. Mere education in business alone won't do. That only makes servants. Masters must be _natural_ masters of men. Life is an intellectual battle, but not a battle to be fought out by mere chess-combinations. It is also a battle of characters. The combinations required for success are of the most difficult--comprising force, perception, versatility, resource,--and enough comprehension of morals as factors in sociology to avoid fatal mistakes. He who has all this, and strong health, goes to the top. But he has there to fight for his standing-room. Besides all other fighting, he has to fight against himself.
In the Buddhist system, the soul, by self-suppression and struggle against temptation, obtains Light and effects progress. The Past begins to be remembered, the Future to be foreseen. But always in proportion to the progress and the enlightenment, the temptations increase. For example, one reward of virtue is beauty and high sexual power (!) The more indulgence is despised, the greater these gifts. The Soul reaches heaven. Then is the greatest of all temptations. Life for thousands of ages,--supreme beauty and power,--supreme loveliness of celestial beings offered to feast upon. And here can be no _sin_: it is only a question of further progress. Indulgence means retrogression. The wise only pass to Nirvana.--Now I fancy the battle of life has the same moral.
It is a terrible battle now, though; and is becoming fiercer every year,--and aggravating with a velocity beyond all precedent. (I see there is a falling-off in the birth-rate of the U.S.--which means increased difficulty of living.) And ultimately what must come out of all this? Pain is certainly the only reliable creator,--the only one whose work endures. Extraordinary intelligence and, mental dynamical power will be results, of course,--up to a certain time. I do not see much likelihood, however, of _moral_ development. Indeed, as Mackintosh long ago said, morals have been at a standstill since the beginning of history: we have made no apparent progress in that. Then comes the question, Are we not developing immorally?
I have begun to think immorality must be, in the eternal order of things, a _moral_ force. That is, some kinds of it,--the aggressive kinds: those which the whole world agrees to call immoral. For the physical value and excellence of a life in its relation to other lives is primarily in its capacity to meet all hostile influences by changes correspondingly effected within itself. This is called adaptation to environment. If this be the physical side of the question, what is the moral side? That the perfect character must be able to oppose or to meet all hostile influences by corresponding changes within itself. This necessarily involves a prodigious experience of evil,--a deep, personal, intimate, artistic, loving knowledge of evil. I see a frightful dualism only in prospect. No love or mercy outside of the circle of each active life. As Spencer holds, absolute morality can only begin where the struggle for existence has ceased. This is not new. The appalling prospect is this,--How infinitely worse the world must become before it begins to improve at all!--And surely education ought to be conducted with a knowledge of these things.