Volume II Part 30 (1/2)

DEAR HENDRICK,--The idea of a set of philosophical fairy-tales often haunts o to the Orient for the material

It is everywhere The Elle-woman is real So are the Sirens, Circe, and the Sphinx and Herakles and Admetos and Alkestis So are the Harpies, and Medusa, and the Fates who measure and cut and spin But when I try, I find e of every-day life,--that life which is the only life the general reader understands or cares about

Then the philosophical fairy-tales ht deal with personal experiences common to all men,--impulse and sorrow and loss and hope and discovery of the hollowness of things But the inclination only is withof the thing Can you help--suggest--define--develop by a flash or two? If you can, be sweet, and tell me; and the fairy-tales shall be dedicated unto you Indeed they shall in any case, if I can ever write them In haste, with love,

LAFCADIO HEARN

TO MITChell McDONALD

TOKYO, November, 1897

DEAR McDONALD,--I can only very poorly express oodness shownout to my miserable little shanty, over thatway you accepted the horrid attempt at entertainment, and in the hundred ways by which you showed your interest and sympathy It was more than nice--that is all I can say

But you set some mental machinery at work too I believe almost your first remark was your desire that I should write fiction,--and I believe I understand why you wish this It is because you wishwell informed on all business matters, you know, just as well as we literary men do, that fiction is about the only , after a little thinking about the matter, to answer you in kind

Why do not men like myself write more fiction? For two reasons

The first is because they have little knowledge of life, little _savoir-vivre_, to help therowth of modern society The second is that, unless very exceptionally situated, they are debarred, by this very want of knowledge and skill, fro with that life which alone can furnish the material Society everywhere suspects them; common life repels them They can _divine_, but theybelong to the great life-struggle, understand it, reflect it, and the world worshi+ps them But dreamers who talk about preexistence, and who think differently from common-sense folk, are quite outside of social existence But--I can do this: You know all about the foreign life of these parts,--the shadows and the lights You can give estions_ for six little stories--based upon the relations between foreigners and japanese in this era of Meiji: studies of the life of the ”open ports” I should need only real facts--not naedy There are hosts of these All the life of the open ports is not commonplace: there are herois in this world nearly as wonderful as life itself All real life is a marvel--but in japan a marvel that is hidden as erous chatterers like Lafcadio Hearn

Of course I could not make a book in a few months,--not in less than two or three years; but I _could_ make one, with the mere help of hints from a man who knows And if that book of short stories (six would be enough to make a book) should ever be so written, I should certainly make a dedication of it to M McD as prettily as I could

There is an answer to your wish so far as I can make one for the present I shall be down to see you the next month, probably, and we can chat over matters if you have time And I shall take care not to come when you are _too_ busy

Faithfully, with affectionate regards and thanks,

LAFCADIO HEARN

TO MASAnobU OTANI

TOKYO, December, 1897

DEAR OTANI,--I have your very nice letter, which gave o away, in regard to the subject for January, and relevant matters

First let me tell you that you are very, verythat I do not care for what you call ”vulgar” songs They are just what I care _most_ about In all the poems that you translated for me this month, I could find but _one_ that I liked veryto shock you by saying so that may surprise you; but if I do not say it, you will _never_ understand what I want In all the great mass of student poetry that you collected for me, I found only seventeen pieces that I could call poetry,--and on subher tests, I found that nearly all were reflections of thoughts and feelings from older poets As for the book that you translated, I could find no true poetry in it at all, and scarcely anything original

And now let me tell you my honest opinion about this whole matter The _refined_ poetry of this era, and most of the poetry that you collected for me of other eras, is of little or no value On the other hand, the ”vulgar” songs sung by coolies and fishermen and sailors and farmers and artisans, are very true and beautiful poetry; and would be adland, in France, in Italy, in Germany, or in Russia

You will think, of course, that this only shows norance and my stupidity But please reflect a little about the reat poem by Heine, by Shakespeare, by Calderon, by Petrarch, by Hafiz, by Saadi, rereat poeuage_ It touches the ee But poetry which cannot be translated is of no value whatever in world-literature; and it is not even true poetry It is ato do with mere word-values It is fancy, it is eht Therefore it has power and truth Poetry that depends for existence on the peculiarities of _one language_ is waste of time, and can never live in people's hearts For this reason there is lish ballad of ”Childe Waters” or of ”Tamlane,” than in the whole of the verse of Pope

Of course, I know there are sos in japanese classical poetry--I have translations froh to live forever in any language But these are beautiful because they do _not_ depend on word-values, but upon senti

I fear you will think all this very foolish and barbarous; but perhaps it will help you to understand what I want ”Vulgar” poetry is supremely valuable, in my humble opinion