If you are bent upon some form of corruption—bribing people into Virtue—why not try it with the young? There’s Roy, as you say, all ready to be an ass. Might not he allow his life to be regulated by the promise of “A Gift for a Good Boy”? Not long ago some rich man left his son a fortune on condition that he never approached within a certain fixed distance—several miles—of Piccadilly Circus. It got into the papers, I remember. How it can be known whether or not these conditions are observed I have no notion. I trust it does not mean ceaseless tracking by private detectives. But there is always a certain fascination about them and I wonder that dramatists have not done more with the idea. Personally I think I hate such tampering with destiny, fortunate or ill, but you must do as you wish with your own. Besides, as I said before, it is probably as much your fate to set up obstacles to Roy’s folly as it is his to be foolish. We only play at free will.
What is at the moment interesting me more than such metaphysics is the problem: Where are the scallops? Once upon a time there used to be Coquilles St. Jacques twice a week, but my faithful landlady can’t get scallops anywhere in these days. Why do things suddenly disappear like this? Is it because the scallop is a cheap luxury, and the fishmonger wants to deal only in the expensive articles? Whitechapel (that very sensible country) is probably full of scallops.
Here’s another Chinese poem which gives me great joy:—
Confusion overwhelming me, as in a drunken dream,
I note that Spring has fled and wander off to hill and stream;
With a friendly Buddhist priest I seek a respite from the strife
And manifold anomalies which go to make up life.
Good night, my dear,
R. H.