No other news that could interest you. Excuse me for troubling you with this note—but the idea of seeking you at the Metropole would fill me with dismay. If you do go to England, please send me a good-bye card. If you do not go very soon, I shall probably see you somewhere “far from the madding crowd.”
Best regards,
Lafcadio Hearn.
TO PROFESSOR FOXWELL
November, 1899.
Dear Professor,—Nay! I return into my shell for another twelve months at least. You see—I thought you were going away, and felt a little sorry, and therefore went to that dreadful hotel and let you hand me over for an afternoon to your American friend who quotes Nordau’s “Degeneration,” but that was really, for me, supreme heroism of self-sacrifice.... (By the way, I have seen too much of that type of man elsewhere to be altogether delighted with him: superficies of bonhomie, studied suggestions of sympathy, core hard as Philadelphia pressed brick: he swarms in America; and I much prefer the Gullman brand.) As for a party of four,—“Compania de cuatro, compania del diablo!” The only way I can have a friend in these parts is to make this condition: “Never introduce me; and never ask me to meet you in a crowd.” You ought to recognize, surely, that I couldn’t afford to be known and liked, even if that were possible. I can “keep up my end” only by strictly following the good maxim: Tachez de n’avoir besoin de personne. Now, really, dear Professor, why should I lose an evening of (to me) precious work, and tire myself, merely to sit down with Mr. G. and Mr. M.? What do I care for Mr. G. or Mr. M.? What do I care for the whole foreign community of Tōkyō? Why should I go two steps out of my way for the sake of men that I know nothing about, and do not want to know anything about? “Life is too short,” as the Americans say. With thanks all the same,
Crankily yours,
Lafcadio Hearn.
Next time—next two times we meet—it is my turn to play host, remember.