Speaking of pupils reminds me that just as you keep me from follies, or mischief, by a bit of sound advice at times,—not to say by other means,—so here I have learned to be guided by K.’s mamma. Indeed, no Occidental-born could manage a purely Japanese household, or direct Japanese according to his own light. Things are so opposite, so eccentric, so provoking at times,—so impossible to understand. A foreign merchant, for example, cannot possibly manage his own Japanese clerks—he must trust their direction to a Japanese head clerk. And this is the way all through the Orient,—even in Aryan India. Any attempt to control everything directly is hopelessly mischievous. By learning to abstain therefrom, I have been able to keep my servants from the beginning, and have learned to prize some of them at their weight in gold.

What I was going to say especially is in reference to pupils and students. In Tōkyō students do everything everywhere for or against everybody. They are legion,—they are ubiquitous. The news-vender, the hotel-clerk, the porter of a mansion, the man-servant of any large house is sure to be a student, struggling to live. (I have had one for a year—a good boy, and inconceivably useful, who soon enters the army.) A Tōkyō resident is obliged to have students about him. They are better guards than police, and better servants than any servants. If you don’t have a student or two, you may look out for robbers, confidence-men, rowdies, trouble of all kinds at your house. Students police Tōkyō.

Well, I found I could not be familiar with my students. It spoiled matters. I had to be a little unpleasant. Then reserved. As a consequence all is admirable. Direct interference won’t do. I have to leave that to the lady of the house; and she can manage things without ever getting angry. But another student, whom I am educating, did give me much heart-burning, until I became simply cruel with him. I should have dropped him; but I was told: “You don’t understand: have patience, and wait.” “But,” I said, “his work is trash—worthless.” “Never mind,” was the answer, “wait and see!” At the end of the year, I am surprised by the improvement and the earnestness. “You see,” I am told, “that boy was a spoiled child while his family were rich; but his heart is good. He will do well yet.” And I find this quite probable. How the Japanese can manage with perfect gentleness and laughter what we cannot manage by force or fraud or money, ought to be a lesson. And I sympathize with this character—only, my own character is much too impatient and cranky to allow of correct imitation.

I am, or have been, the teacher of men who, although insignificant in English, are literary celebrities in their own tongue. Their portraits are known over Japan; their poems and stories celebrated. Naturally they feel proportionately averse to being treated as mere boys. Still, an appeal to their honour, gently made, will sometimes work wonders. I tried it the other day, by advice of the director, when there had been a refusal to obey. He said: “Don’t write to them; don’t order them: just go and talk to them. You know what to say.” And they obeyed—in spite of the fact that the whole room laughed at them for their change of resolve. There is hope for this class of men: if the university system were better managed, they would be splendidly earnest....

Affectionately,

Lafcadio Hearn.

TO MITCHELL McDONALD
Tōkyō, July, 1898.

Dear McDonald,—We ran over somebody last night—and the train therefore waited in mourning upon the track during a decorous period. We did not see Tōkyō till after eleven considerably. But the waiting was not unpleasant. Frogs sang as if nothing had happened, and the breeze from the sea faintly moved through the cars;—and I meditated about the sorrows and the joys of life by turns, and smoked, and thanked the gods for many things,—including the existence of yourself and Dr. Hall. I was not unfortunate enough to see what had been killed,—or the consequences to friends and acquaintances; and feeling there was no more pain for that person, I smoked in peace—though not without a prayer to the gods to pardon my want of seriousness.

Altogether I felt extremely happy, in spite of the delay. The day had been so glorious,—especially subsequent to the removal of a small h—l, containing several myriads of lost souls, from the left side of my lower jaw.