Dear Mr. Nishida,— ... Last evening, the servant of Governor Koteda came to the house with a curious-looking box, which contained a present from Miss Koteda,—an uguisu: the bird which sings “Hokkekyō,” and ought, therefore, for its piety, according to the sutra of the good law, to be endowed with six hundred good qualities of Eye, six hundred good qualities of Hearing, twelve hundred good qualities of Smelling power, and twelve hundred supernatural excellences of the tongue, or of Speech. I am almost ready to believe the last compensation has been given it,—for its voice is superlatively sweet.—But what to say or do in the way of thanking the giver I don’t know: this is really too kind.
So yesterday, despite the hideous weather, was a fortunate day: it brought to my house the sacred bird and your delightful postal news;—and for all things my grateful thanks and best wishes.
Most faithfully,
Lafcadio Hearn.
TO YRJÖ HIRN
Tōkyō, December, 1890.
Dear Professor,—I have just finished the reading of your “Origins of Art.” ... Some years ago I remember that I wanted very much to produce an ideal essay upon the “ghostliness” of fine art,—the element of thrill common to all forms of it: painting, sculpture, music, or architecture. The notion is not original, I suppose,—but it came to me with such an intensity that I imagined a general truth behind it. This was the possible fact that no existing æsthetic sentiment had a primarily æsthetic origin, and that all such sentiment must simply represent emotional accumulation,—organic memory or inherited tendency. But I could not develop my notion judiciously. Your fine book shows me how such things should have been done, and it expresses convictions and ideas which I lacked the scientific training to utter consistently.
I found a particular satisfaction in your critique of the Darwinian hypothesis as to sexual æsthetic sensibility in animals and birds. Though I am an “extreme” evolutionist, this hypothesis always seemed to me essentially wrong,—essentially opposed to the facts of psychical evolution. You have more than convinced me of what I suspected. Also I think that, even while occasionally diverging from Spencer’s views, you have reënforced his main positions, and shed fresh light upon various shadowy regions of the new psychology. I liked very much your treatment of the difficult topic of pleasure-pain: indeed, I like the whole book more than I feel able to tell you.
My own slight knowledge of these matters is based chiefly upon a study of Spencer. Although I have played “æsthetically” with metaphysical ideas in my books, I believe that I have a fair knowledge of the whole system of Synthetic Philosophy, and that I may call myself a disciple of its author. Therefore,—or rather by reason of this private study only,—can I presume even to discuss your work as an admirer. You place the study of æsthetics upon a purely natural and common-sense basis, even while considering its multiple aspects; and I am persuaded that this must be the system of the future. Psycho physics and psycho-dynamics have of late years been applied to æsthetic problems with the naked result of leaving the main question exactly where it was before, or of landing the student in a cul-de-sac; and I imagine that much intellectual labour has been wasted in such paths merely through cowardice of conventions. It is a delight to meet with a book like this, in which science quietly ignores cant, and opens a new clearing through the blinding maze of mediæval cobwebs. Again, I must say that a more lucid, strong, and pleasing style I have not found in any modern work on æsthetics.
I want, however, to make a small protest about the second paragraph on page 233. Perhaps in the second edition you might think it worth your while to modify the statement as to the “gross” character of Japanese dancing. I should question the fairness of classing together—except as to probable emotional origins—Asiatic and African dances (i.e. negro dances). But I shall speak of the Japanese dances only. To make any general statement about anything Japanese is always risky; for customs here (differing in every province and every period) exhibit a most bewildering variety. It is not correct to say that the dancing is performed by “outcast women” mostly; for there are many respectable forms of dancing. The maiko is not perhaps a very respectable person;—but the miko, or Shintō priestesses (daughters of priests), certainly are worthy of all respect. Well, there are the temple-dances, before the old gods,—the dances of children at the temples upon holidays,—the dances of the peasants, etc., etc. None of these could be called gross,—however amorous their origin. Men dance as well as women: all children dance; and in some conservative provinces dancing is a part of female education. To come back to the maiko or geisha, however, let me assure you that although some of their dances may be passionally mimetic, even the passionate acting could not be termed “gross” with justice: on the contrary it is a very delicate bit of refined acting,—acting of eyes and lips and hands,—which requires a sharp eye to follow. There are in Japan, as everywhere else, dances that would not bear severe moral criticism; but the fine forms of Oriental dancing are really dramatic performances,—silent monologues of a most artistic kind.—Perhaps you will be interested in a book which an acquaintance of mine, Mr. Osman Edwards, is bringing out through Mr. Heinemann of London, “The Theatre in Japan.” The fact of the old lyric drama seems to me to call for a modification of the statement on page 233. Of course I am not questioning the suggestion of origins.