The Japanese papers to-day are denouncing some rice-speculator who has been praying to the gods for bad weather! The gods do wisely not to answer anybody’s prayers at all. City-dwellers would pray for fine weather, while farmers pray for rain;—fellows like me would pray for eternal heat, while others would pray for eternal coolness;—and what would the gods do when begged by peace-lovers to avert war, and by military ambitions to bring it about? Think of twenty people praying for a minister’s death; and twenty others pleading for his life. Think of ten different men praying to the gods for the same girl! Why, really, the gods would in any event be obliged to tell us to settle our own little affairs in our own little way, and be d—d! One ought to write something some day about a dilemma of the gods;—Ludovic Halévy did something of the sort; but he did not exhaust the subject.
Affectionately,
Lafcadio.
TO MITCHELL McDONALD
Tōkyō, October, 1898.
Dear McDonald,—I have your delightful letter and throw all else overboard for the moment to send a few lines of greeting and chatter.
I have sent word to Mr. —— that I can receive no foreign visitors. I run away from the house on days of danger from calls,—and nevertheless I cannot entirely escape. Yet you would have me enter like Daniel into that lions’ den of the Grand Hotel, because you are the Angel of the Lord. Well, I suppose I must get down soon,—but I cannot say exactly a day. Better let me come after the fashion of the Judgement,—when no man knoweth.
I am right glad to hear you are well again....
Don’t know what my book will turn out to be after a few more months of work. It will be a queer thing anyhow: the Japanese part will be interesting enough; but the personal-impression parts do not develop well. And I must work very hard at it. You think that a day or two in the Grand Hotel is good for me once in a while; but you can’t imagine what difficulty it is to find any time while the thing is still in pupa-condition.