I was much touched by the sad news about your little girl,—and I can understand all that one does not write about such matters. Some nine years ago, I very nearly lost my little boy: we sat up with him night after night for weeks, always dreading that he was to be taken from us. Fortunately he was saved; but the pain of such an experience is not easily forgotten. As a general rule, the first child born to young parents is difficult to bring up. With the next, it is very different;—perhaps you will be more fortunate later on. One has to be brave about such matters. When Goethe was told of the death of his only son, he exclaimed: “Forward—over the dead!” and sat down to write, though the blow must have been terrible to him,—for he was a loving father.
I suppose that Mr. Ibaraki will soon be coming back to Japan. He deserves much success and praise;—for he had great obstacles to overcome as a student, and triumphed over them. I do not know who told him that I was going to England; but several persons were so—incorrectly—informed. Whether I shall go or not remains for the present undecided.
Of course the real philosophy of “Undine” is the development of what Germans call “the Mother-Soul” in a young girl. By marriage and maternity certain beautiful qualities of character are suddenly evolved, which had remained invisible before. The book is a parable—that is why it has become a world-classic.
What you tell me about your reading puzzles me a little. One must read, I suppose, whatever one can get in the way of English books at Kanazawa. Still, if my advice be worth anything, I should especially recommend you to avoid most of the current novel literature—except as mere amusement. The lasting books are few; but one can read them over so many times, with fresh pleasure every time. I should think, however, that Stevenson would both please and profit you,—the last of the great nineteenth-century story-tellers.
May all happiness and success come to you is the sincere wish of
Y. Koizumi.
TO ERNEST CROSBY
Tōkyō, August, 1904.
Dear Mr. Crosby,—A namesake of yours, a young lieutenant in the United States Army, first taught me, about twenty years ago, how to study Herbert Spencer. To that Crosby I shall always feel a very reverence of gratitude; and I shall always find myself inclined to seek the good opinion of any man bearing the name of Crosby.