Have you read Huxley’s views on Ethics and Evolution? They have been a great revelation to me. They make it perfectly plain why men cannot be good to one another on general principles without causing trouble in the order of the universe. They also explain the immorality of Nature. Cosmic principles afford explanations of—but not consolations for—individual experiences.
L. H.
TO ELLWOOD HENDRICK
Kumamoto, December, 1894.
Dear Hendrick,—Of course I shall teach the “Jungle Book” to the little fellow, when he gets big enough. How pretty of you to send it. I sent some little prints—don’t know if you like them; in an album they would perhaps interest your friends who have not been in Japan. I shall look out for seeds for you regularly hereafter.
About Emerson. Last spring I got a pretty edition of him from H. M. & Co. and I digested him. He is only suggestive, but wondrously so at times, as in his poems. As a suggester he will always be great. The talk about his truisms must depend upon the knowledge of the speaker. Emerson will be large or small,—commonplace or profound,—according to the reader’s knowledge of the thought of the age.
My reading out here has been pretty heavy. I have had to digest a good deal of Buddhist and Chinese stuff, of course. My philosophical favourites are still Spencer and Huxley, Lewes and Fiske and Clifford. I made Kipling’s acquaintance out here (I mean his books), and told you what I think of him. Next to Kipling I like Stevenson. But I have really read very little of anything new. Browning is a pet study still. Somehow I have tired of Tennyson—don’t exactly know why.
The labour of a mother is something which, I imagine, no man without a child can understand. We big folks forget what our own mothers did for us,—and we have no real chance to see all that other mothers do. My whole family are always caring for the boy: his interest and necessities rule the whole house,—but the mother!! for a single hour she has no rest with him (Japanese give the breast for two years)—no sleep except when he allows it,—and yet it all is joy for her. How they have already taught him Japanese politeness, how to prostrate himself before his father the first thing in the morning and last at night,—to ask for things, putting his hands in the proper way,—to smile,—to know the names of things before he can pronounce them,—I can’t understand. Angel-patience and love alone could have done it. I want her to wean him—but she won’t hear of it; and the old grandmother gets angry at the mere idea. It is only in home-relation that people are true enough to each other,—show what human nature is—the beauty of it, the divinity of it. We are otherwise all on our guard against each other. I cannot say how happy I think you are—you can see Souls without armour or mail,—loving you. That is the joy of life, after all—isn’t it?
Lafcadio Hearn.