I
Lafcadio Hearn anticipated many of Freud's conclusions. He understood the unity of life, in the past with that in the present, and his most persistent thought is the power and influence of the emotional life of our very distant ancestors upon our own lives.
A word should be said about Hearn's antecedents. He has himself left a tribute to his mother, who exerted a great influence upon him. She was a Greek, though one biographer, Nina Kennard, conjectures that she had oriental blood. Hearn was very much attached to her and lost her when he was only six years old by his father divorcing her. This event coloured his entire life. He tells us that there was a miniature painting in oil of the Virgin and the Child, on the wall of the room in which he slept as a child. "I fancied," he says, "that the brown Virgin represented my mother—whom I had almost completely forgotten—and the large-eyed child myself." In this infantile phantasy we see how the repressed love for his mother revived in him and how he identified her with the Virgin.
He wrote to his brother: "My love of right, my hate of wrong;—my admiration for what is beautiful or true;—my capacity for faith in man or woman;—my sensitiveness to artistic things which gives me whatever little success I have;—even that language-power, whose physical sign is in the large eyes of both of us,—came from her. It is the mother who makes us,—makes at least all that makes the nobler man; not his strength or powers of calculation, but his heart and power to love. And I would rather have her portrait than a fortune."
Hearn knew of the existence of the unconscious in the Freudian sense, and also of its influence on authorship. When he was twenty-eight, in 1878, in a letter to Mr. Krehbiel he said: "Every one has an inner life of his own,—which no other eye can see, and the great secrets of which are never revealed, although occasionally when we create something beautiful, we betray a faint glimpse of it—sudden and brief, as of a door opening and shutting in the night." (Life and Letters, Volume 1, p. 196.) "Unconscious brain-work is the best to develop ... latent feeling or thought. By quietly writing the thing over and over again, I find that the emotion or idea often develops itself in the process,—unconsciously. When the best result comes, it ought to surprise you, for our best work is out of the Unconscious." (Life and Letters, Volume 1, p. 140-141.)
Again Hearn realised that fairy tales had their origin in dreams, an idea that has been developed by Rank, Abraham and Ricklin, disciples of Freud. Hearn saw that there was an intimate connection between literature and dreams. He is one of the first men to have seen the relation between dreams and supernatural literature. The following passages are from the lecture on "The Supernatural in Literature" in the second volume of Interpretation of Literature. "Whether you believe in ghosts or not, all the artistic elements of ghostly literature exist in your dreams, and form a veritable treasury of literary material for the man that knows how to use them." "Trust to your own dream life; study it carefully, and draw your inspiration from that. For dreams are the primary source of almost everything that is beautiful in the literature which treats of what lies beyond mere daily experience."
Hearn, with Samuel Butler, is one of the great champions for the theory about the power of unconscious memory over us. This idea is one of the axioms of psychoanalysis, or rather one of its pillars. In his essay, "About Ancestor Worship" in Kokoro, Hearn develops his theories of inherited memory at length, and one might say that there is scarcely an essay of his that does not touch on the subject. Here he states one of the leading lessons taught by psychoanalysis. Hearn realised that we should not starve all our primitive tendencies, as this would lead to the destruction of some of the highest emotional faculties with which they are blended. The animal tendencies must be partly extirpated and partly sublimated. This is practically Freud's theory that neurosis is produced by trying to stamp out our sexual impulses (yet Freud does not mean that we should give these full play). The following passage from Hearn's essay is part of the prophylaxis of psychoanalysis. "Theological legislation, irrationally directed against human weaknesses, has only aggravated social disorders; and laws against pleasure have only provoked debaucheries. The history of morals teaches very plainly indeed that our bad Kami require some propitiation. The passions still remain more powerful than the reason in man because they are incomparably older, because they were once all essential to self-preservation,—because they made that primal stratum, of consciousness out of which the nobler sentiments have slowly grown. Never can they be suffered to rule; but woe to whosoever would deny their immemorial rights."
He has a similar idea in his essay on "Nirvana." "Mental and moral advance has thus far been effected only through constant struggles older than reason or moral feeling,—against the instincts and appetites of primitive brute life.... Only through millions of births have we been able to reach this our present imperfect state; and the dark bequests of our darkest past are still strong enough betimes to prevail over reason and ethical feeling."
Hearn regarded man as an entity of millions of cells, a composite of multiples of lives carrying out unconsciously the behests of past ages. Man's instincts are but unconscious memories of the instincts of old. Whitman has this idea in his Song of Myself, and Buddha taught this idea which Hearn calls "the highest truth ever taught to man," "the secret unity of life." Hearn states the view fully in his remarkable essay on Dust. "All our emotions and thoughts and wishes, however, changing and growing through the varying seasons of life, are only compositions and recompositions of the sensations and ideas and desires of other folk, mostly of dead people.—I an individual,—an individual soul! Nay, I am a population—a population unthinkable for multitude, even by groups of a thousand millions! Generations of generations I am, æons of æons." Or as he states it in another essay, "Ideas of Pre-existence," in Kokoro: "It is incontrovertible that in every individual brain is locked up the inherited memory of the absolutely inconceivable multitude of experiences received by all the brains of which it is the descendant." There are similar ideas in Jack London's Star Rover.