Reminiscences of Lafcadio Hearn

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Reminiscences of Lafcadio Hearn Reminiscences of Lafcadio Hearn

Setsuko Koizumi

Paul Kiyoshi Hisada

Frederick Johnson

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Reminiscences of

Lafcadio Hearn

by Setsuko Koizumi

(Mrs. Hearn)

Translated from the Japanese by

Paul Kiyoshi Hisada and Frederick Johnson

Setsuko Koizumi (1868–1932) was the daugh-

ter of a Japanese samurai family in Matsué.

In 1891 she married a foreigner — Lafcadio

Hearn (1850–1904) — and their union lasted

13 years and produced three children. Hearn

adopted her family name, becoming Koizumi

Yakumo 小泉八雲,and spent those years in

Japan writing, teaching, and achieving inter-

national recognition. Setsuko’s Reminiscences

tells something of the couple’s moves and

travels, but focuses mostly on the character,

habits, and eccentricities of her husband. The

book is a heartfelt and intimate portrait of a

marriage that brought Lafcadio the home and

family he had never before enjoyed. This book

shares a charming story of domestic happi-

ness, told by his closest companion, collabora-

tor, and interpreter of life, death, and afterlife

in Meiji Japan.

ISBN 978-1-60962-228-2 ebook

doi:10.32873/unl.dc.zea.1314

Cover: Koizumi Yakumo and Setsuko Koizumi

Zea Books

Lincoln, Nebraska

Reminiscences of

Lafcadio Hearn

Setsuko Koizumi

(Mrs. Hearn)

Translated from the Japanese by

Paul Kiyoshi Hisada and Frederick Johnson

Zea Books

Lincoln, Nebraska

2022

Now in the public domain.

ISBN 978-1-60962-227-5 paperback

ISBN 978-1-60962-228-2 ebook

doi:10.32873/unl.dc.zea.1314

Zea Books are published by the

University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries.

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https://digitalcommons.unl.edu/zeabook/

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INTRODUCTION

“When a ship sails away, she leaves smoke behind;

Alas, that smoke causes my heart to ache.”

It is sad to be left behind. After spending

years in a land which is not mine, amongst

people whose language also is not mine,

when I visit home, time knows no sympa-

thy, and my two months pass away like an

ever-fascinating dream. It was my last day

in Japan, and in the morning I would sail

away. I had seen everybody I wanted to

meet, except one, Mrs. Setzuko Koizumi,

who lives in Okubo, the outskirt district

of Tokyo.

The pouring rain and long distance did

not stop my going there. Not having her

exact address might have discouraged me,

but I felt it would make the visit still more

interesting should I succeed.

Tokyo was an utterly strange city to

me, and the development of the city had

advanced with a Herculean stride. Taking

one street car after another, transferring

4 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

two or three times, I reached a station

called Okubo, and inquired for the where-

abouts of Mrs. Koizumi, but nobody

seemed to know. I added the name Hearn,

but even that brought no answer, until I

said, “A Japanese woman who married

a foreigner”; then they suggested the di-

rection. After walking a distance of sev-

eral . blocks, I came to a very artistic gate,

which * led diagonally to a house, by a

stone-paved walk, and there was the name

Koizumi on the door.

Opening a sliding door of latticework,

I said “Dozo —” (please —), and a young

Japanese girl responded, who was one of

Hearn’s children. At my request to see the

mistress of the house, she bowed politely,

and returned with a young man, who was

Kazuo, the eldest son of Hearn, who is in

Waseda College. He resembles his father,

but his color is typically Japanese. Tell-

ing him about my work of translation, and

my admiration for his father, induced him

to bring his mother to join in the conver-

sation. I found her a woman of motherly

appearance, and she showed in every way

a ne Japanese character.” One could tell

easily that she was of Samurai descent.

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 5

When she observed my intense desire

to see Hearn’s study, she guided me there,

where he worked until his last days, and

I found the place in order as neatly as he

left it. His desk was built up higher than

ordinary ones, on account of his eyesight,

and the row of books in the bookcase were

as if telling the stories of the days when

Hearn worked in this very room. In a cor-

ner of the study, I saw a modest Bud-

dhistic family altar, where was enclosed

a portrait photograph of Hearn, in front

of which rose the smoke of incense, like

a lmy gauze; and I naturally paid my

hearty homage to the spirit of the patri-

arch, the English writer who linked the

East and the West. There is no one who

did more to bring the inner thought and

ideal of Japan to the West than Hearn. He

received no public recognition, nor was he

decorated in Japan, but the outer world

places a crown of laurel upon him. “Todai

moto kurashi” (the foot of the beacon is

dark).

One of Hearn’s three children, Kiyoshi,

who attends the art school, was out. Had

I met him I should have had the pleasure

of seeing all the Hearns. His name (which

6 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

means “unsophisticated,” “cleanliness,” or

“good nature”) is the same as mine; that

interested me. “Please tell me why Sense!

named him Kiyoshi,” I said. “Just because

father liked the sound of the name,” re-

plied Kazuo.

While the two sticks of incense that

I had offered burned serenely, my heart

was lled with sentiment toward his work,

and his words, often repeated in the class-

room of the Tokyo Imperial College, “The

pen is mightier than the sword.” I bade

them good-bye and thanked them for their

courtesy, and was glad that I had seen the

house and garden and owers and trees

on a rainy day, instead of a ne day. Me-

seems rainy days might be the days that

Hearn enjoyed better than clear days with

blue sky.

With the consent of Mrs. Hearn, I have

translated her story into English, and rst

of all, I present a copy to be placed on the

tomb of the deceased writer. May his spirit

accept this copy, and may he think of the

country that he adopted by choice, and his

devoted wife, who has written her remi-

niscences of this gifted son of the Isle of

Leucadia, Greece.

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 7

This little book came to be printed

through the good efforts of my friend,

Frederick Johnson. Without him, I never

should have seen it in type. I share the

name of translator with him, and I return

to him full gratitude and thanks.

ki yosHi Hi s a d a

REMINISCENCES OF

LAFCADIO HEARN

HEARN came to Japan in the spring

of the twenty-third year of Meiji (1891).

He immediately discontinued his busi-

ness relations with the publishing-house

of Harper & Brothers. That is why he

had great difculty in earning a living af-

ter coming far away to a foreign land. He

accepted a position in a school in Izumo,

because Izumo was the oldest province

where many shadows of great historic

events would remain. He did not mind the

isolation nor the inconveniences, and, as

he was a bachelor, he did not care much

about the salary. So he went there.

He stopped a night in Shimoichi, in

Hoki Province, and there he saw a dance

at the Bon Matsuri (Buddhist Festival of

the Dead) which he thought very interest-

ing. He crossed the lagoon from Yonago,

and arrived in Matsué on the shore near

a large bridge. It was the latter part of

August. At that time the steam railway

1 0 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

connected Tokyo with Okayama, but from

that point he was obliged to cross moun-

tain after mountain until he reached Yo-

nago, and lodgings for the night were very

poor.

Passing through a succession of vil-

lages, the traveler suddenly comes to Mat-

sué, which is a very clean city, and one

that surprises and astonishes the visitor.

By crossing the large bridge, it is possi-

ble to obtain, toward the east, a distant

view of Mount Oyama in Hoki Province,

called “Izumo Fuji” by the natives be-

cause its shape resembles the other Fuji.

The Ohashi River slowly ows in that di-

rection. On the western horizon, sky and

lake meet and mingle; square white sails

appear to hover above the tranquil waters.

Near the shore is an islet bearing ve or

six pine trees, and on it is a shrine to the

goddess Benten. It seemed to me that this

was Hearn’s favorite view.

The population of Matsué was about

forty thousand. It had been a feudal

stronghold of Naomasa’s, a relative by

blood of Ieyasu, and, after several gen-

erations, became the home of a lord

named Fumaiko. That is why there was

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 11

a pronounced æsthetic atmosphere about

this city in spite of its being in an isolated

region. Hearn taught in the Middle School

and in the Normal School. Mr. Nishida,

dean of the professors, was unusually

kind to him. They became very intimate,

and liked each other well. Hearn had

great condence in Mr. Nishida, and al-

ways praised him. “Clever, kind, learned,

and brave, he points out my mistakes; he

tells me all; he is a real man, an amiable

man, and not a atterer.” Mr. Nishida,

unfortunately, was always suffering and

never in good health. “He is always ill.

How bad God is! I am angry,” Hearn used

to say. “This is a very cruel world that

so good a man can be so ill. Why cannot

the bad men have all the diseases?” Even

after we came to Tokyo, Hearn worried

about Mr. Nishida’s health. Mr. Nishida

died on the fteenth of March, in the thir-

tieth year of Meiji. Once after his death,

Hearn said: “To-day I thought that I saw

Mr. Nishida. His back was toward me.

I made my kurumaya hurry. It was as-

tonishing how much that man resembled

Mr. Nishida!” He felt very kindly toward

the stranger because of that resemblance.

1 2 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

When he went to Waseda University, he

thought that Professor Takada reminded

him of Mr. Nishida, and he was exceed-

ingly pleased.

At that time the governor was Mr.

Kagoteda. He was very earnest about

keeping alive the national spirit of former

days. He had self-control, like a daimyo

(feudal lord); he was fond of fencing, and

was very skillful in that art. Just then

there was a revival of the chivalry of Bush-

ido (the practical religion of the old war-

rior class of feudal Japan), and its accom-

panying contests with swords and spears.

Old-fashioned horse-races were held again,

and old people of the past generation be-

longing to the samurai class could think

that they were living once more in the

days of their youth. Hearn was much de-

lighted. He was invited to all those events,

and was well received by the governor.

Everything he saw or heard was new

to Hearn, and he took much pleasure in

writing down whatever was interesting.

The pupils and the teachers of the Middle

School and of the Normal School all liked

Hearn, and the local papers printed arti-

cles about him and praised him. He had

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 13

this reputation: “Hearn is too good a man

to be in so isolated a place.”

But Hearn liked such isolated places.

He liked Matsué far better than Tokyo.

The island of Oki was superior to Nikko.

He never saw Nikko. After coming to Mat-

sué, he never had a chance to go there.

He said he had no desire to see Nikko, al-

though, if he had gone, I know that he

would have liked that double row of cryp-

tomerias (Japanese cedars) and the woods.

When I went to him, I found only one

table and a chair, a few books, one suit of

clothes, and one set of Japanese kimono.

When he returned from the school,

he immediately put on a kimono, sat on

a zabuton (square cushion for the oor),

and smoked a pipeful of tobacco. He liked

everything Japanese, and drew nearer

and nearer to the Japanese style of liv-

ing. Speaking of Western things, he said:

“There are many beautiful things in Ja-

pan. Why do they imitate Western things?”

That was his plaint. He always forgot him-

self when he saw an interesting or a beau-

tiful object.

In Matsué he frequently went to ban-

quets, and he often invited to his home

1 4 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

and entertained there two or three teach-

ers from the school. He enjoyed listening

to the folklore and various popular songs.

He liked Japanese costumes, and wore the

haori and hakama (coat and wide plaited

trousers for formal occasions) when he

made the round of ceremonious calls at

New Year’s. He was received with old-

fashioned ceremony at the governor’s res-

idence, and was exceedingly delighted

with those occasions. When he rst came

to Matsué, he stopped for a while in a ho-

tel on Zaimokucho, but soon hurried away

to another place. There might have been

other reasons, but the main cause of his

departure was a little girl who suffered

from a disease of the eyes. He thought

of her with sorrow, and begged the little

one’s relatives to let her go to be treated

at the hospital; but the landlord only said,

“Yes, yes,” and postponed doing so indef-

initely. Hearn was angered, and left the

hotel with the words, “Strange and un-

sympathetic man, who is without a par-

ent’s heart!” Then he moved to another

place, and hired a hanarézashiki (de-

tached dwelling in a garden). “However,”

said Hearn, “the girl is not in the least to

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 15

blame, only I am sorry for her.” So he had

the doctor treat her and cure her.

He himself had weak eyes, and he al-

ways paid a great deal of attention to

them. When his first son was born, he

made a wish with great anxiety, saying,

“Come into this world with good eyes!”

He had always a deep sympathy for those

with poor eyes. At home, when Hearn saw

shosei-san (young students given homes in

private families) reading a newspaper or a

book on the oor, he would say to them at

once, “Hold up the book when you read!”

I married him a short time after he had

moved to his new quarters from the hotel.

Hearn had a peculiar temperament, and

it caused me much trouble. A man moved

into our neighborhood and called on him.

This man had been in the same hotel on

Zaimokucho, and was a friend of the ho-

tel-keeper. He came to borrow a corkscrew.

After greeting him, Hearn asked, “Is it you

who stayed at that hotel in Zaimokucho,

and were a friend of the hotel-keeper’s?”

The man answered, “Yes, I am his friend.”

Hearn replied, “I dislike you because you

are that strange and unsympathetic fel-

low’s friend. Sayonara. Good-bye!” and

1 6 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

left him and went inside the house. This

man naturally did not understand what

the trouble was, so I tried to explain, but I

was very much embarrassed.

This hanarézashiki of Suetsugu com-

manded an excellent view of the lake,

and the beautiful scene pleased Hearn

immensely.

We began our married life there, but

suffered from many inconveniences. Early

in the summer of the twenty-fourth year of

Meiji (1892), we moved over to a samurai

estate and kept house. We moved with a

maid and a pussy-cat. One evening in the

early spring of that year while the air was

yet chill and penetrating, I was standing

on the veranda admiring the sunset on the

lake, when I saw, directly below the ve-

randa along the shore, four or ve naughty

children ducking pussy up and down in the

water and cruelly teasing her. I begged

pussy of the children, brought her back

to the house, and told the story to Hearn.

“Oh, poor puss!” he exclaimed. “What cruel

children they were!” And he held the shiv-

ering pussy right in his bosom to warm

her. That time I felt a great admiration

for him.

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 17

After we moved to our estate, Kitabori,

we missed the view of the lake, but we

had left the noise of the city. There was

a running stream directly in front of the

gate, and on the other bank we could see

the spire of the castle through the woods.

This estate was different from others, be-

ing a samurai estate. We found it in very

good taste, and the reception hall and all

the rooms were well arranged. At the back

were a hill and the garden, and this gar-

den was a favorite spot where we enjoyed

walking about in our yukata (light kimono

for lounging), wearing garden clogs. The

mountain pigeon coos, “Te-te-pop, ka-ka-

po-po !” When he heard the mountain pi-

geon coo, Hearn used to call me to come

to him. “Do you hear that? Isn’t that de-

lightful?” And he himself would imitate

the sound, “Te-te-pop, ka-ka-po-po!” and

ask, “Did I do it right?”

There was a lotus-pond in the garden,

and we saw a snake in it. “Snakes never

harm you unless you hurt them,” Hearn

said; and he shared his food from the table

with the snake. “I am giving you this food

so that you will not eat the frogs,” he told

the snake. Then he related some of the

1 8 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

incidents in his life. “When I was in the

West Indies, studying, the snakes would

often crawl up my left arm, over my shoul-

ders, and down my right arm. But I paid

no attention to them and kept on studying.

Snakes are not harmful; they are not bad.”

It may seem funny for me to mention

the fact that Hearn was an extremely hon-

est man. He did not have the least evil in

his mind. He had more delicate and kindly

sentiments than a girl. During his child-

hood he had always been teased by mali-

cious people until he cried. The keenness

of his sensibility was astonishing.

We once took a trip in the Province

of Hoki, to a place called Lake Togo. We

wished to stay there for a week, but the

inn was crowded with people having a gay

time, drinking and making a great deal of

noise. Hearn saw them, and immediately

pulled my sleeve. “We cannot stay. This

is jigoku (hell). It is no place for me, even

for a second.” In spite of the innkeeper’s

protests, and his greeting, “Yoku irashai-

mash’ta! (Welcome!) This way, please!”

as he tried to lead the way, Hearn said,

“I do not like it!” and left at once. Both

the innkeeper and the kurumaya were

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 19

surprised. It was a very noisy and common

inn, and, naturally, I loathed the place,

but Hearn called it jigoku. He never had

the least patience with anything he dis-

liked. I was still young then, and not used

to the world, so this peculiarity of Hearn’s

caused me embarrassment many times.

This was Hearn’s innate temperament,

and I thought it good.

As I remember, it was about this same

time that we visited the Kugurido near

Kaga-no-ura, in the Province of Izumo.

This place was a grotto on an island in

the sea, about two miles from the land.

Hearn was extremely fond of swimming,

and he swam all the way ahead of or be-

hind the boat. He took great delight in

giving me an exhibition of the different

strokes used in swimming. When the boat

reached the cave, the noise of the waves

washing against the rocks made a fearful

sound, and the drops of water fell down

— “potari! potari!” The rowers knocked

against the side of the boat with a stone

— “kong! kong!” This was to notify the de-

mon that the boat was coming in. After

the noise of the rock — “kong! kong!” —

we heard a sound, “chabong! chabong!” as

2 0 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

if something had jumped into the water.

The rowers began to tell many horrid sto-

ries, pathetic and tragic, about the spot.

Hearn was going to take off his clothes,

which he had put on a little while before,

but the rowers said, “Master, do not do

so ! It is too dreadful to contemplate!” I

also said, “Do not go in swimming in such

a place! There are so many horrid fables

about it that something frightful may

dwell here.”

But Hearn said, “The water is so beau-

tiful, so dark a blue! The depth is un-

known. It may be several million fath-

oms! It would be great fun!” He was very

anxious to go in swimming, but nally re-

nounced the idea. He was very sulky, and,

even on the following day, he did not speak

because of this disappointment. Several

days later he said to me, “I once swam in a

place where they said it was very danger-

ous, but I escaped without accident. Only

I felt as if my body were melting away the

minute I went in. I had a bad fever at once.

Two of us went in at the same time. Sud-

denly my companion disappeared, and I

noticed the tail of a big shark right in front

of me.”

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 21

Hearn was still young and very vigor-

ous at the time when he lived in Matsué.

He often recalled his West Indian days,

and would say, “I wish I could show you

the West Indies!”

In 1892, when it came the time for the

summer vacation, Hearn went to visit the

holy shrine of Kizuki. The day after his

arrival, he wrote to me and asked me to

come too. I went to the hotel, and found

him absent; he was bathing in the sea.

His money was in a stocking and scat-

tered around — silver coins and bank-

notes were falling out. Hearn was so very

careless with his money that it was almost

amusing. He was born that way, and had

no mind for so common a thing. Only when

his children were born, or when he noticed

that his body was becoming weak, did he

take note of the state of his nances and

begin to worry about his family.

The abbot of the shrine was a friend of

Mr. Nishida’s. He knew of Hearn’s fond-

ness for Japan, and he gave him an un-

usual reception. Hearn mentioned the

fact that he was very desirous of seeing

the Bon Festival dance. It was a little too

early in the season, but the abbot gathered

2 2 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

several hundred men just for that purpose,

and they danced for us. Everybody who

took part was delighted, and gladly did his

best to show the movements of the dance.

This dance was very gay, and Hearn said,

“This is more like the harvest dance than

the Bon Festival dance.” During this trip

he learned the “Kimigayo” (national an-

them), and we used to sing it. Hearn was

as innocent as a child in his pleasures.

After a fortnight we returned to Matsué,

and, as it was about the time for the Bon

Odori dance, we took a trip to Shimo ichi in

order to see the dances. We took no guide.

Mr. Nishida had gone to Kyoto. It was our

rst journey of so long a distance as this

one. When we reached Shimoichi, we made

inquiry at the hotel where we had stopped

on the way down the preceding year. “This

year the police authorities have prohibited

the dancing,” the hotel proprietor told us.

Hearn was much disappointed and felt very

annoyed about it. “The police are worthless!

The old customs of Japan, very interesting

customs, are discarded. It is the Christians

who are to blame; they cast aside all the

Japanese ways, and try to imitate Western

things,” Hearn said, disgustedly.

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 23

On this occasion we hunted all around

for the Bon Odori dances. We had the

same trouble on this trip which we had

had at the Togo hotel. At last we discov-

ered a place where they were going to

dance, but they received us insultingly,

and threw sand at Hearn because he was

a foreigner; they also refused to dance.

Afterward they came to apologize. It was

very strange. We returned to Matsué by

the end of August, and we talked these

things over with Mr. Nishida, who had

come back from Kyoto, and enjoyed tell-

ing him what had happened while we were

traveling about for a month. Besides this

trip, we frequently went off and spent the

night away from home.

Izumo was full of interest, and Hearn

liked the place, but, after being used to liv-

ing in a warm country like the West In-

dies, he suffered from the severe cold. At

the school they only had one large hiba-

chi (charcoal brazier) in the classroom. He

complained of the cold to Mr. Nishida, who

suggested that Hearn keep his overcoat on

while giving lessons. At that time he had

an overcoat that he used to wear in spite

of the fact that he called it a seaman’s. He

2 4 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

had taste, but, as this example shows, he

was very careless.

Let me recall the walks we had to-

gether in Kumamoto. One evening Hearn

came in from a walk and said, “I will take

you to a certain place to-morrow night.

I have found a very interesting spot.” It

was not a moonlight night. We walked

through lonely streets after leaving the

house. When we reached the foot of a hill,

he said, “It is on top of this.” A narrow

path led to the summit; shrubs and bam-

boos caught our feet, and we climbed to a

graveyard. Under the dim starlight I saw

a number of tombstones here and there,

and I thought it very dismal. Then Hearn

said, “Just listen to those frogs!” Again one

evening, while in Kumamoto, he returned

from his walk and remarked: “This eve-

ning I walked along a very lonely coun-

try road. I heard a dainty voice from out

the darkness — it was you calling me. I

stood still, but found nobody — nothing

but darkness.”

When Hearn was teaching in Kuma-

moto, we went to Oki Island from Hoki

Province during the summer vacation

time. We explored all the coves on that

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 25

island. We visited Saigo, Beppu, Ura-

no-go, and Hishiura. In the last place

we stopped for a week. Foreigners were

strange to the populace, and Hearn was

the first one who had ever come there.

There were mobs, and some of the crowd

lled the balcony of the house across the

street. Their weight broke the balcony, but

fortunately no one was injured. The police

were called out, and it was quite exciting.

In Saigo the chief physician of the hospi-

tal entertained us as Hearn was an unique

guest. He was much disturbed over our re-

cent experience, but, in order to make me

feel comfortable, he said, “It could n’t have

been more amusing!” and pretended to be

very calm; but I understand that he wrote

in one of his books that he was much dis-

turbed. We paid homage to the ancient em-

peror’s mausoleum. We also visited Mount

Kuroki where Emperor Godaigo once lived.

Near this place at Beppu, I remember that

they had no cakes with the tea, and that

they offered us some roasted beans.

On our way home from Kizuki, we hap-

pened to see the Bon dance in the shing

port of Sakai, in Hoki Province. Naturally,

all the participants were active shermen,

2 6 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

and they clapped their hands vigorously

and were very lively in their movements.

Hearn remarked that it was the liveliest

dance he had ever witnessed. The dance

in Kizuki was merry and cheerful, like

the harvest dance; the dance in Shimoichi

offered veneration to the souls of the de-

parted; and the dance in Sakai was over-

owing with enthusiasm and animation.

I always remember a place in the

mountains where we stayed when we were

crossing from Hoki Province into Bingo

Province. The inn was a very wretched

one, but Hearn liked it. The kurumaya had

agreed to go about six miles farther on,

but, because of delays and broken roads,

the sun set before we crossed the moun-

tains and it grew dark. We traveled over

the mountain in the gathering gloom. It

was nearly autumn, and we heard the

noises of all kinds of insects as if the whole

mountain were alive with the songs of in-

sects, and yet this murmur only empha-

sized the tranquillity of the spot. “Is n’t

there an inn near here?” asked Hearn.

“Yes, a little way beyond, there are seven

houses. One of them takes lodgers, and I

wish you would stop there,” answered the

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 27

kurumaya, apologetically. As I remember,

it was about ten o’clock when we reached

the inn. It was really a small, shabby

farmhouse with a queer atmosphere about

it. The andon (paper lantern) gave a very

poor light, and the proprietors were an old

man and his wife. We saw three bravo-like

men talking there. We were shown to a

room upstairs, and the old woman left us

a tiny lamp and never came up again.

It was right after the oods of 1893,

and we heard the torrent rushing down

the near-by river-bed. The noise of the wa-

ter — “Go ... go” — made a terric sound.

Now and then the room was lighted

by reies which ew into and out of the

house; there were great numbers of them.

While we were looking out of the window,

we felt some kind of insect come swarm-

ing around us as if something were thrown

over us on our hands and faces. They were

very nasty insects. Sometimes crickets

came and sang close beside us as we knelt

on the oor.

We occasionally heard the bravo-like

men talking, and the stairs would creak

from time to time. We thought that the

bravos were climbing up, and we could not

2 8 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

help thinking of tales of the olden days

which we had read in books of adventure.

The old woman brought us our dinners

on trays. I asked her what those insects

were, and she told us that they were called

Natsu-mushi (summer insects), and that

there was nothing unusual about them. It

was indeed an isolated spot, and we felt as

if we were living in a dream. Hearn said,

“This is an interesting place, and I should

like to pass another night here.” Those

hotels for foreigners with modern facili-

ties in Hakone and elsewhere were not to

Hearn’s liking, but this kind of inn fasci-

nated him. If I had agreed, we might have

stayed there much longer in the Province

of Hoki, where the storm was heavy on the

sea. Hearn always wished to take a trip

through the Province of Hida, but he never

had the opportunity to do so.

When we were returning from Kobé,

Hearn said that he could not stay in To-

kyo for more than three years. From the

very rst he never cared for Tokyo, and

compared the city to “jigoku” (hell). I was

eagerly looking forward to seeing Tokyo,

but Hearn said to me, “You are thinking

that Tokyo still resembles that Yedo which

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 29

Hiroshigé depicted with his brush and col-

ors.” One of our reasons for going to Tokyo

was to give me an opportunity to see the

city. Hearn often said, “The three years

have passed, and now you have nished

your sightseeing in Tokyo. Let us go back!”

3 0

On August 27, 1897, we went to Tokyo

from Kobé. We heard at rst that there

were houses assigned to professors of the

university, but we wished to live far from

the university, in the suburb, and, al-

though we hunted for a house, we could

not nd a good one.

We received word that there was a

good, spacious house in the district of Ush-

igomé, if I remember rightly. We went to

see it, and found that it was one story in

height, and built in the old style. I imag-

ine that it had originally been erected for

hatamoto (a commander of the shogun’s

camp) or daimyo. The gateway looked like

the gateway to a temple, and, after enter-

ing, we found that the house looked more

and more like a temple. It had a large gar-

den, with a good-sized lotus-pond. But,

once inside, we noticed something very

ghostly about the place, and felt strange.

Hearn liked it, and said, “This is a very in-

teresting house.” He thought of taking it,

but I could not bear to live in such a place.

I learned afterward that it was haunted,

and that ogres had dwelt in it. On that

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 31

account the rental grew less and less, and

nally it was torn down. When I told this

to Hearn, he said, “Why did we not go

there to live? I was sure that it was an in-

teresting house!”

We moved to Tomihisa-cho. Here the

garden was small, but the view was ex-

cellent. Hearn was particularly fond of

this place. The neighboring building was

a Buddhist temple called Kobudera. This

temple had once been called Hagidera, and

there was an abundance of hagi (bush-clo-

ver) growing in the grounds. The temple

was very weatherworn, but it possessed a

grove of great cedar trees where an atmo-

sphere of tranquillity always reigned. Ev-

ery day we visited this temple in the morn-

ing and the evening. We soon made friends

with the abbot, and he used to tell us in-

teresting stories of Buddhist lore. That is

why I often went there too.

Hearn went about in a kimono, feeling

proud and cheerful. When any of his inti-

mate friends came to call, he took them to

that interesting temple of Kobudera. And

the children always thought that papa was

at the temple, if he was not to be seen in

the house.

3 2 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

Many times while out walking, he said,

“Mamma-san, is it hard to get in a temple?

Is n’t there any way by which I could live

in the temple?”

I replied, “You are not a priest, so per-

haps you cannot very well do so.”

“I should prefer to be a priest,” Hearn

said; “and how pleased I should be if I

could be one.”

“If you should become a priest, how

funny you would look with your large eyes

and high nose — a ne priest!” I remarked.

“You could become a nun at the same

time, and Kazuo [our eldest son] a nov-

ice. How cute he would look! Every day we

should read the scriptures and take care

of the graves. That would be true happi-

ness !”

“Pray that you may be born a priest in

the next world!”

“That is my wish,” replied Hearn.

One day, as usual, we took a walk to

the neighboring temple. Suddenly Hearn

exclaimed, “Oh! oh!” I did not know what

had happened, and was frightened. Then I

saw that three large cedar trees had been

cut down, and Hearn was gazing at them.

“Why did they cut down those trees?”

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 33

“This temple must be very poor, and

they must need some money,” I replied.

“Why did n’t they tell me about it? I can

easily give a little money to help them. I

should have been happier to have given

them some money and saved the trees.

Think how long a time was necessary for

those trees to grow from little sprouting

seeds!” He was very down-hearted. “I be-

gin to dislike that abbot. I am sorry for

him because he has no money, but I am

more sorry for those trees, Mamma-san!”

Hearn came out of the temple gate in a

lifeless manner, as if some great event had

taken place. He sat down in the chair in

his study, and was very much depressed.

“It hurts my heart to see that sight,” he

said. “There will be no more joy to-day.

Please beg the abbot not to cut down any

more trees.” After that time he seldom vis-

ited the temple.

The old abbot soon went away, and a

new young abbot succeeded him. Then

all the trees were cut down. When we

moved away, there were no trees to be

seen, the graves were gone, new tene-

ments had been built, and the whole place

changed. What Hearn had called his world

3 4 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

of tranquillity vanished in that manner.

Those three fallen trees had been the be-

ginning of the end.

I had always wished to live in a house

of small size, — a quiet country place

with a large garden and many trees. Af-

ter the profanation of Kobudera I looked

about in many directions. There was a

house for sale in Nishi Okubo. This house

was purely Japanese, and there was not a

building in foreign style to be seen in the

neighborhood.

I always desired a house of my own,

even if a small one, in preference to a

rented house, and I wished to build one.

When I suggested this, Hearn said, “Have

you money?” and I answered, “Yes, I have.”

Then he said, “Great fun! I will build a

house in the island of Oki”; and when I

opposed that, he added, “We will build

one in Izumo Province.” We even went in

search of land, but I did not like Izumo

well enough to build there, and we nally

decided to buy this estate and to build ad-

ditions later.

Hearn always wished to live in the

midst of purely Japanese surroundings,

and he went to inspect the house himself.

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 35

It was on the outskirts of the town and

had a bamboo grove back of it, and it

pleased him very much. In adding to the

house, he wished to have a room where

he could light a stove during the severe

cold of the winter, and he also wished to

have his desk face the west. He had no

other request, but everything must be in

Japanese style; excepting this, he made no

suggestions. If ever I happened to consult

him, he would say, “Well, you do as you

please. I know how to write, that is all,

and you, Mamma-san, know much better.”

He would pay no more attention, and if I

insisted, he would add, “I have no time”;

and he left the entire affair to me.

“When that house is all ready, you

might say, ‘Papa-san, please come to our

new house in Okubo to-day.’ Then I will

say good-bye to this house, and will go to

Okubo just as I would go to the university.

That is all.” I actually did as he requested.

He disliked to lose time. We moved to Nishi

Okubo on the nineteenth day of the third

month, in the 35th year of Meiji (1903).

Everything was made in Japanese style.

Hearn was very fond of Japanese sliding

paper doors. The only Western feature was

3 6 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

the glass doors in the room where he had

the stove. Hearn greatly enjoyed the day

on which we moved. As I was helping him

arrange his books on the shelves, he said,

“How delightful this is!” This house was

larger than the one in Tomihisa-cho, and

at that time Okubo was more rural than

it is now; it was extremely quiet, and we

heard the nightingales singing in the bam-

boo grove at the back of the house. Hearn

continued, “It hurts my heart.” I asked,

“Why?” He replied, “It is too pleasant to

last. I pray that we may live here a long

time. But what do you think?”

Hearn avoided all complex society.

Sometimes when a distinguished per-

son paid a call, he would tell the maid to

say that he had no time, and wished to

be excused. It was always embarrassing

for shosei-san and the maids when callers

came to the door. Hearn was so method-

ical a man that he did not wish to meet

any one or make a call that would inter-

rupt his study.

I used to brush out the rooms about

twice every day. It was a diversion for me,

but Hearn said, “You have a mania for

cleaning.” He hated the noise of cleaning.

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 37

I always cleaned the house while he was at

the university, or when, he was at home,

I cleaned it before he got up and had his

breakfast. Otherwise, if I asked him to let

me clean, he made me promise to do it in

ve or six minutes. During that time he

walked around the roka (corridor) or in the

garden.

Hearn avoided society and seemed ec-

centric because he valued so highly things

of beauty and of interest and was fond of

them. For that same reason I frequently

observed that he wept when alone by him-

self, and he was irritated or elated in an

abnormal degree. His greatest pleasure

was to live and write in the world of his

imagination. That is why he was a recluse

and was chary of his time.

“Won’t you do something else for plea-

sure besides writing in your own study?” I

would ask him.

“You know very well that my only di-

version is to think and to write. If I have

anything to write, I never get tired. When

I write I forget everything. Please tell me

some stories,” he would reply.

I would say, “I have told you all; I have

none to tell.”

3 8 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

“Therefore you should go out and see or

hear something interesting, and come back

and tell me all about it. It will never do for

you just to stay at home.”

He wrote with great eagerness, and it

disturbed his work if there was the least

noise of opening and shutting doors, walk-

ing in the corridor, and if the children be-

came unduly excited. Anything of that

nature worried me, and I tried to prevent

those noises from reaching Hearn’s ears.

When I wished to enter his study, I chose

the time when he was singing or hitting

the bowl of his pipe against the hibachi to

empty it. At other times he would not an-

swer, for an interruption or the least noise

irritated him greatly. That was the gen-

eral atmosphere of the entire house.

After we moved to Okubo, the house

was much more spacious and the study was

far from the front door and the children’s

room, so we made it a world of tranquillity

without a single noise. Even then he com-

plained that I broke his train of thought by

opening the bureau drawers, so I made ev-

ery effort to open the drawers more quietly.

On such occasions I always remembered

not to break his beautiful soap-bubble (not

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 39

to destroy his day-dreams). That is how I

thought about it, so I never felt provoked

when he scolded me.

While working on his manuscripts he

frequently made unusual inquiries, and I

often wished, because I was anxious, that

he would not work so hard. When we were

in Matsué I was still young, and I thought

that Hearn was losing his mind. I worried

about it, and asked Mr. Nishida’s opinion,

and found out that he was too deeply in-

terested in his work. Hearn was extremely

fond of ghost stories, and he used to say,

“Books of ghost stories are my treasures.”

I hunted for them from one second-hand

bookstore to another.

On quiet nights, after lowering the wick

of the lamp, I would begin to tell ghost sto-

ries. Hearn would ask questions with bated

breath, and would listen to my tales with a

terried air. I naturally emphasized the ex-

citing parts of the stories when I saw him

so moved. At those times our house seemed

as if it were haunted. I often had horrid

dreams and nightmares. Hearn would say,

“We will stop talking about such things

for a while”; and we would do so. He was

pleased when I told a story he liked.

4 0 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

When I told him the old tales, I always

rst gave the plot roughly; and wherever

he found an interesting place, he made a

note of it. Then he would ask me to give

the details, and often to repeat them. If

I told him the story by reading it from a

book, he would say, “There is no use of

your reading it from the book. I prefer

your own words and phrases — all from

your own thought. Otherwise, it won’t do.”

Therefore I had to assimilate the story be-

fore telling it. That made me dream. He

would become so eager when I reached

an interesting point of a story! His fa-

cial expression would change and his eyes

would burn intensely. This change was ex-

traordinary. For example, take the story

“O Katsu San of Yurei-daké,” in the rst

part of the book, “Kotto.” As I was narrat-

ing that story, his face became extremely

pale and his eyes xed. That was not un-

usual, but this once I suddenly felt afraid.

He sighed one long breath, and said, “Very

interesting!” when I nished it.

He asked me to say, “Alas! blood!” and

repeat it several times. He inquired how

it had probably been said, and in what

tone of voice; what kind of night it was,

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 41

and how the wooden clogs would sound.

“I think it was in this way,” he would

say; “how do you think, yourself?” and so

forth, — all of this was not at all in the

book, — and he would consult with me

about it. Had any one seen us from the

outside, we must have appeared like two

mad people.

The story of “Yoshi-ichi” in the rst

part of “Kwaidan” pleased Hearn exceed-

ingly. He made that story from a very

short one, with great effort and determi-

nation. He wished to make one part of it

sound stronger. He thought that “Mon o

aké” (Open the door) was not an emphatic

enough expression for a samurai, and he

made it “Kaimon” (This latter word means

“Open the door,” like the former, but would

be more tting in the speaker’s mouth.)

While we were working on this story of

“Miminashi-Yoshi-ichi,” night fell, but we

lighted no lamp. I went into the adjoin-

ing room, and called out in a small voice,

“Yoshi-ichi! Yoshi-ichi!”

“Yes,” Hearn answered, playing the

part, “I am blind. Who are you?” and re-

mained silent. In this way he worked and

became absorbed in it.

4 2 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

One day at that time, when I came

home from a walk, I brought a miyagé

(gift) of a little clay gure, a blind musi-

cian playing a biwa (a native four-stringed

lute), and, without saying a word, I left it

on his desk. Hearn, as soon as he noticed

it, was delighted, and exclaimed, “Oh! Yo-

shi-ichi!” as if he saw some one whom he

was expecting to meet. And sometimes

when he heard during the night the swish

of the bamboo leaves in the wind near his

study, he would say, “Ah! there goes a

Heiké!” And when he heard the wind, he

listened to it earnestly, and said, “That is

the waves of the Dan-no-ura!” — “A spot

on the coast near Shimonoseki where the

great Taira or Heiké Clan was extermi-

nated April 25, 1185, by the rival Mina-

moto or Genji Clan led by the intrepid Yo-

shitsune.” (Terry’s Japanese Empire.)

Perhaps I might ask him, “Have you

written that story?” He would reply, “That

story has no brother. I shall still wait for

a while. Perhaps I may see a good brother

coming. I might leave it in a drawer for

seven years, and even then I might come

across a good brother.” This is an example

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 43

of how long it sometimes took him to write

one story.

We both knew the heroine of the “Diary

of a Woman” in “Kotto,” and we kept the

secret and never mentioned her name, but

we often took an offering of incense and

owers to her grave.

While writing “Tanabata” Hearn wept,

and I wept also, and thus we completed

that book.

While writing “Ghostly Japan” Hearn

worked very hard. “This book will kill me,”

he said. “It is no easy matter to write so

large a volume in so short a time; there is

no one to help me, and I think it very try-

ing to accomplish such a task.” This work

was done after his dismissal from the uni-

versity. He felt very hard and provoked be-

cause of his dismissal, and thought that he

had been treated very indifferently. Things

which were of ordinary occurrence Hearn

accepted in a very sensitive manner.

He never had any desire to give his ser-

vices to the university for a long time. “If

it is necessary to spend such long hours in

the university, there will be no time left

for writing,” was his usual complaint, and

4 4 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

it was n’t the dismissal that troubled him,

but the way in which they treated him.

When the manuscript (of “Ghostly Ja-

pan”) was nished, he was greatly pleased,

and had it wrapped very tightly (he was

very proud of doing up the manuscript se-

curely — sometimes he put in a piece of

board, and made it as heavy as a stone).

He wrote the address neatly, and sent

the manuscript by registered mail. He re-

ceived a cablegram, saying “Good,” and

two or three days later he was dead. He

looked forward eagerly to the publication

of this book. A little while before his death,

he said, “I can hear the noise of the tick-

tack of setting the type for ‘Ghostly Ja-

pan.’” He was anxious to see it published,

but he passed away without that grati-

cation, and it makes me sad, even now, to

think about it.

When he took a pen to write, he kept

his eyes near the paper and began with

great energy. At such times you might call

him, but it would bring no answer, and

he would not move for anything. He was

of a very nervous temperament, but fre-

quently I found him quite oblivious to his

surroundings.

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 45

One night about eleven o’clock I opened

the shoji (sliding paper window) and smelt

dense smoke from the oil lamp. To my as-

tonishment I found that the wick of the

lamp was way up and that the room was

dark with smoke. Hearn was almost suffo-

cating, but he was writing so enthusiasti-

cally that he noticed nothing, although he

had a very sensitive nose for odors. I hur-

riedly opened the shoji and let in the air,

and said, “Papa-san! how dangerous it was

that you did not know the lamp was on

re!” He exclaimed, “Why was I so stupid!”

4 6

III

It was our custom for the three chil-

dren to go upstairs and shout, “Papa, come

down; supper is ready!” Hearn always re-

plied, “All right, sweet boys!” and looked

so delighted, sometimes almost dancing

about. But there were occasions when he

was working so hard that even the chil-

dren’s announcement would not bring any

response, and they could get no answer,

“All right!” At such times we might wait

and wait, but he would not appear in the

dining-room. Then I would go up myself,

and say, “Papa-san, we have been waiting

a long time, and all the things will taste

bad. I wish you would hurry up. All the

children are waiting.” Then Hearn would

ask, “What is it?” I would reply, “What’s

the matter with you? This will never do;

it is dinner-time. Won’t you take some

dinner?” “I? Have n’t I had dinner yet? I

thought I had nished it. That’s funny!”

That is the way it would be, and I

would continue, “You had better wake

up from your dream! The tiny children

will cry.” Hearn would reply, “Gomen na-

sai! Pardon me!” and follow me to the

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 47

dining-room. On such occasions he was

funny or absent-minded; he would for-

get to divide the bread with the children,

and would say, “No,” and begin to eat fast.

If the children asked for bread, he would

come to himself and say, “Pardon! pardon!

did n’t I give you any?” and begin to cut

the bread. While cutting it, he would lose

himself again, and eat the piece himself.

Before meals he took a little whiskey,

but later wine was suggested on account

of his health. When absent-minded he of-

ten mistook the whiskey for the wine and

poured it into a glass to drink, or put salt

in his coffee; and when the children drew

his attention to it he would say, “Really!

Is n’t Papa stupid!” and become lost in

thought again. Often I had to say to him,

“Papa-san, it is about time that I should

ask you to wake up from your dream!”

He had no particular preference nor

dislike for any dish. Of the Japanese food,

he liked the pickles and sashimi (raw

sh) or anything else. He began his meal

with the side-dishes and nished it with

one bowl of rice, and of seiyo-ryori (for-

eign food); he was fond of plum-pudding

and a thick cut of beefsteak. He especially

4 8 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

enjoyed smoking. During dinner he would

talk on different topics. I would tell him

about the news in the Japanese papers,

and he would reciprocate with the news

in the Western papers. The newspapers

which we took for a long time were the

“Yomiuri” and the “Asahi.” While we were

eating, tiny Kiyoshi might peep through

the shoji. The cat and the dog would come

beneath the window. Each one would

share his food with them, and they would

eat very eagerly. When we had nished

dining, we all sang songs together.

Often I found Hearn very much elated

or very sad. Sometimes he would walk the

corridor almost as if he were dancing, and

laughing to himself. When I heard him, I

would ask, “Papa-san, is there anything

amusing?” Then he would burst out laugh-

ing, and laugh until the tears came into

his eyes. This was when he happened to

recall something funny in the paper, or

something amusing that I had told him.

In the same way he would fall into deep

thought, or become absorbed in ghost sto-

ries. Such moods might make one think

that he would n’t tell a joke, but he fre-

quently told very rened jokes. Some one

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 49

said to me that he never met the sensei

(professor) when he did not tell a joke.

When things were amusing, the whole

world appeared amusing, and when he

was sad, it seemed to him that the whole

world was sad. While telling ghost sto-

ries he would transport himself into that

world, or become the hero of the story.

If he felt deeply a story he was hearing,

his face and the color of his eyes would

change. He would say “Such and such a

world,” and used the word world often.

Hearn’s habitual voice was dainty,

like a woman’s, and his way of laughing

was also very feminine; but sometimes

he would become very energetic and ex-

cited in a dainty (sic) talk and would ex-

press himself very powerfully. He had two

ways of laughing. One was dainty, and

the other was uproarious, disregardful of

everything. This laughter made the whole

family laugh, and it was so amusing that

even the maid could n’t help laughing.

At the time of Hearn’s dismissal from

the university, Mr. MacDonald, who was

then stationed in Japan, came every Sun-

day from Yokohama to see him. We of-

ten heard that uproarious laughter of

5 0 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

Hearn’s from the study, and the whole

family laughed too.

There used to be a conch-shell on a ta-

ble in the study. I brought it back as a mi-

yagé, because it was so large, one time

when I went to Enoshima with the chil-

dren. Hearn blew into the shell, and it

made a big noise. He was pleased, saying,

“It sounds so well because I have strong

lungs. What a funny noise!” he added,

puffing out his cheeks. We came to an

agreement. Every time he wished a char-

coal re for lighting his pipe, he was to

blow this conch-shell. When he found no

re, he would blow and make a big noise

that would vibrate in sound-waves, like

“po-wo.” Then it was heard even in the

kitchen. We would keep the house so quiet,

not making the least noise, and then would

come the roar of the conch-shell. Particu-

larly in the evening it sounded extraordi-

nary. I took special care to have a charcoal

re always ready for him, but he wished to

blow the shell; so the minute he saw that

the charcoal was gone, he blew delight-

edly. It must have been fun for him. Of-

ten we were bringing the re, and were al-

ready near his study, when we heard him

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 51

blowing. The maid used to say, laughing,

“There goes the shell!”

When Hearn saw anything well done,

he appreciated it sympathetically.

We often enjoyed going to the exhibi-

tions of paintings in Ueno Park. Hearn

paid no attention to the painters’ names.

When he liked a picture, he paid the price

no matter how dear it was, and would

say, “Very reasonable! very reasonable!”

“How do you like that picture? “ he would

ask me. I might reply, “The price is too

dear.” I would give this answer because

he liked to buy without paying any atten-

tion to the expense. Then he would say,

“No, I’m not speaking about the price, I’m

speaking about the picture. Do you think

it good?” And if I answered in the afrma-

tive, Hearn would continue, “If you think

so, we will buy it. I think that this price

is very reasonable. We ought to pay a lit-

tle more for it.” If the painting was worth

while, he always wished to give more than

the set price, and would ask them to hurry

to stick on the ticket “sold.”

When both of us were sight-seeing

in Kyoto we went to such places as the

temple Chion-in, the Ginkakuji, and the

5 2 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

Kinkakuji. At those places they had a xed

price of ve or ten sen admission fee, and

when Hearn liked the place he would of-

fer fty sen or one yen (fty cents), and if

I suggested to him that it was unneces-

sary and rather embarrassing, he would

n’t listen to me and would say, “No, no, I

should be ashamed otherwise.” It seemed

very queer to the people in the temples,

and they would ask for his name, but nat-

urally we did not give it.

When we were in Matsué, we took a

walk one day to a near-by temple. Here

we saw a small, stone statue of the Bud-

dhist divinity Jizo that interested us. We

wished to know who had executed it, and,

by inquiring at the temple, we discovered

that the name of the sculptor was Ara-

kawa. This man had good talent, although

he had the reputation of being very eccen-

tric. He had had no education, and was

not ambitious. Though suffering from pov-

erty, this old man could not nish a work

for any one in a given time, and it usu-

ally took him two or three years to do each

piece. Hearn thought that he was inter-

esting, and made him a present of three

large casks of sake (liquor made from rice).

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 53

Later we invited him to our home and gave

him dinner; Hearn also went to call on him

in his own untidy house. Hearn ordered a

piece of sculpture, and paid him more than

he would accept willingly. There is a piece

of sculpture in our house which is by Ara-

kawa, the statue of the Emperor Tenchi,

and though it was not a particularly good

piece of work, Hearn bought it from a

sense of admiration for this “poor genius.”

One summer Hearn and I went to a

dry-goods store to buy two or three yukata.

The salesman showed us a large variety.

That pleased Hearn immensely. He bought

this one and that one, while I kept protest-

ing, saying, “There is no need of buying

so many.” Finally, he bought about thirty

pieces, and astonished the clerks in the

shop by saying, “But, you see, these are

only one and a half or two yen. I do so wish

you to wear different kinds of yukata. Only

to see them on you will give me great plea-

sure.” That is the way in which he would

act when he liked anything.

He was not very keen about the Japa-

nese who wore European costumes. It an-

noyed him especially to see the women in

Western fashions and speaking English.

5 4 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

Once we went to a bazaar in Ueno

Park. Hearn, pointing to an article, in-

quired its cost very quietly in Japanese of

a saleswoman, who answered him in Eng-

lish. Hearn was disgusted; he pulled my

sleeve and walked away without making

any purchase.

After he accepted the position in

Waseda University, he was invited to

Professor Takada’s house. Mrs. Takada

came to meet him at the door, and said,

“Yoku oidé kudasai mash’ta” (Welcome),

and showed the way. Instead of using Eng-

lish, she spoke in elegant Japanese. That

pleased Hearn so much that he told me

about it as soon as he came back.

While reading a local newspaper, I no-

ticed an article about an aged peer who

loathed Western fashions and liked every-

thing Japanese. The maids in his house

had the obi (girdle) tied in just such a

way, the coiffure arranged in just such a

way, and the kimono long and owing in

the most old-fashioned way, as at court.

There were no modern lamps in the house,

but old-fashioned paper lanterns; no soap

and no Western innovations. Even the

daily newspaper was excluded, and the

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 55

old-fashioned customs were observed by

the household servants. On that account

no one cared to enter his employ, and

would say, “Mappira gomen” (I beg to be

entirely excused).

When I read that account to Hearn,

he said, “How interesting it is!” and he

was greatly delighted. “I simply adore a

person like that; he would be one of my

best friends. I am consumed with desire

to see that house. I have nothing West-

ern about me.”

To this I replied, “You may have nothing

Western about you, but look at your nose!”

And he said, “Oh! what can I do with

my nose? Pity me because of this, for I,

Koizumi Yakumo, truly love Japan more

than any Japanese.”

We had the children wear white tabi

(socks). Hearn liked white ones better

than black ones, and thought it was so nice

to see the Japanese showing their white

tabi beneath their kimono.

Hearn preferred to have the children

wear geta (wooden clogs) than shoes. He

pointed to his own toes: “Look at them! I

don’t wish my children’s toes to become

like that.”

5 6 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

He did not like anything in extreme

style. He cared very little about having

his kimono well creased. He was not very

fastidious. He cared for neither a swallow-

tailed nor a Prince Albert coat. He always

said of them, and of white shirts and silk

hats, — “How barbarous they are!”

When we came from Kobé to Tokyo, he

had a Prince Albert coat made for the rst

time at my request. I said, “You must have

a Prince Albert because you are an univer-

sity professor.” He replied, “No; I told Pro-

fessor Toyama that I dislike formal dress.

I will not appear on an occasion where I

have to wear it. Professor Toyama agreed

with me that it would be all right. A Prince

Albert coat would never do.”

He had one made at last, but he wore

it only four or ve times. Whenever he

had to wear it he always made a fuss. He

would put it on unwillingly, saying, “I sim-

ply wear this to please you. Whenever I go

out, you always wish me to put on a new

suit or a Prince Albert, all of which I hate.

This is no joke; I mean it.” I knew that he

did not like it, but I regretfully made him

do so. He thought that it was my fault that

he had to wear them.

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 57

Once I said to him jokingly, “Here are

your Prince Albert and silk hat. You must

wear them, for His Majesty has granted

you an audience because you have writ-

ten so much and so well about Japan.” He

replied, “Mappira gomen” the phrase he

had learned awhile before when listening

to the article in the paper about the aged

peer. He liked the sound of the word “Map-

pira” and used it often.

He always wore a sack suit when he

went out, but preferred a kimono or yu-

kata. He never carried a cane nor an um-

brella. It might rain, but he came home

unconscious of it unless it was a torrent.

Then, perhaps, he would take a kuruma

(jinrikisha). He wore army boots, and

was not concerned about the fashions. “A

Japanese laborer’s feet are much hand-

somer than those of a Westerner.” I think

that he always liked Japan better than

the West, and a dream-world better than

this world of reality. He did not fail to

say, “Pleasant dreams,” before retiring.

He was exceedingly pleased to hear tales

about my dreams.

It seems that it was his custom to wear

neither white nor colored shirts. When he

5 8 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

had to wear one with a Prince Albert, he

wore a collar that was very low. He had

ne taste in everything, but paid very lit-

tle attention to his apparel, and he did not

trouble to be particular, although he al-

ways wore excellent shirts and hats. He

went all the way to Yokohama for his

shirts, and ordered one dozen each time.

The hats that he bought were felt, had a

wide brim, and he chose the best.

He disliked superficial beauty, and

paid no attention to what was in vogue; he

hated anything modern, and loathed pre-

tentious kindness. He did not believe in

false teeth or articial eyes. “They are all

false,” he would say; and disliked them all.

He hated the Christian missionaries as he

found many dishonest people among them;

but he owned three Bibles, and told his el-

dest son that that was the book he must

read a great deal.

Of the Japanese fairy tales, he liked

Urashima Taro the best. When he simply

heard the name Urashima, he exclaimed

aloud with joy. saying, “Ah! Urashima!” He

often stood in the corridor and hummed

the tune, “Haru no hino kasumeru sora

ni, suminoé no . . . !” (“ Misty spring days

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 59

in a far-off land . . . ! “) He remembered

it well. Even I learned it by heart by lis-

tening to him. At the exhibition of paint-

ings in Ueno Park, he bought the picture

of Urashima as soon as he saw it without

asking the price.

He liked hot weather best, and there-

fore enjoyed summer more than the other

seasons. He preferred a western aspect.

His study was built facing the west. He

took great pleasure in the sunsets. When-

ever he saw the sun setting, he called me

and the children. We would hurry to him,

and even then he often said, “You are min-

utes too late. The sunset has begun to be

poor. How disappointed I am for you!” He

would sing, “Yu-yaké, koyaké, asu tenki ni

naré” (Great sunset, little sunset, may to-

morrow be good weather), and would make

the children sing too. When we went to

Yakizu, he played on the beach with the

children and with Otokichi, the “Hiraita,

hiraita, nanno hana ga hiraita? Renge

no hana hiraita . . .” (Open, open! what

ower opened? The lotus-ower opened!)

He played with the children very guile-

lessly (sic). He used to sing, and join in

the chorus with the children, that song

6 0 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

called “Has Commander Hirosé died ? “ He

would come out quietly to the room where

the children were playing and singing and

sing the songs with them. Some time ago

the Mitsukoshi store sold cigarette cases

made from the timber that had been used

in the S.S. Fukui Maru. (Commander Hi-

rosé was the idolized hero of Port Arthur,

and the Fukui Maru was the steamer sunk

by him to blockade the harbor channel of

Port Arthur.) On that very day Hearn sang

unexpectedly about Commander Hirosé,

so I thought it a coincidence and kept the

song in the case.

He was interested in “Hokku” (poems

of short stanzas) and remembered many

of them. He put tunes to these poems, and

sang them while talking in the corridor.

Sometimes he himself composed, and at-

tributed his compositions to Basho

way of jest.

We had an opportunity to see wres-

tling-matches in Matsué. Tani-no-oto,

the ozeki (champion) was there. Hearn

thought that Japanese wrestling was more

interesting than the Western form of the

Basho, famous poet.

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 61

sport. He often recalled the name of the

champion, and used the name Tani-no-oto

to describe anything fat.

Hearn told me that he used to go to the

theater every day while he was working

as a newspaper reporter in America. He

knew all the famous actors and had asso-

ciated with them as a friend; he had also

frequented the dressing-rooms and stud-

ied the theaters. In Japan, he only went

to the theater twice, once in Matsué and

once in Kyoto. He told me that it caused

him suffering to sit among the audience in

a theater for many hours; but he always

wished to have his children see the plays

by good actors, and often urged me to go

to see them. He asked me not to fail to see

the plays by Danjuro. When I came back

from those plays, I would have to tell him

all about the stage, the audience, and all

the details. He would listen most atten-

tively and delightedly. He wished to meet

Danjuro and ask him questions regard-

ing the theater, but Danjuro died before

Hearn had that opportunity. Hearn of-

ten remarked, before his own death, that

he wished to study the Japanese plays.

Once he asked me to look up information

6 2 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

concerning the play “Sanjusan-gen-do”

(translated under the title of “The Willow

Tree”). After that, he frequently told me

that he was going to begin his autobiogra-

phy. There were a few parts done, but any

writing concerning the theater was not n-

ished before his death.

I often recall memories of morning-glo-

ries. When the end of autumn drew near,

and the green leaves were beginning to

turn yellow, there was always the last

morning-glory of the season blossoming

so lonesomely by itself. When Hearn saw

that lonely ower, he admired it. “Will you

please look at it? What beautiful courage

and what honest sentiment! Please give it

a word of praise. That dainty ower still

blooms until the end. Just give it a word

of praise!”

That morning the morning-glory ceased

to bloom. My mother thoughtlessly pulled

off the blossom and threw it away. The fol-

lowing morning Hearn went over to the

fence and was greatly disappointed. He

said, “Grandma’s a ne woman, but she per-

formed a sorry deed to the morning-glory.”

One of the children made nger-marks

on a new fusuma (sliding door) with his

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 63

small, untidy hand. Hearn said, “My child

spoiled that beauty!” He always felt keenly

against mutilating or damaging beauty of

any kind. He used to teach the children

that even a picture you could buy for half

a penny would be valuable if it was kept

a long time.

Hearn used to tell me to be suspicious

of people. He was exceedingly honest, and

was easily fooled; he knew this himself,

and that is why he used to talk as he did.

He was a very critical man. For instance,

when he was doing business with publish-

ers in foreign countries, and because he

was so far away, the publisher would take

the liberty of deciding the arrangement of

such things as book-covers and illustra-

tions without consulting Hearn, who was

very particular about all details. At such

times Hearn was often made furiously an-

gry. When he received a letter from the

publishing-house, he would immediately

write back a erce (sic) answer in anger,

and order it to be mailed at once; but then

I would say “Yes,” and hold it over a mail.

Two or three days afterward, when he

had become calm, he would regret that he

had written too severely, and would ask,

6 4 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

“Mamma-san, have you mailed that let-

ter?” I would answer, “Yes,” and watch to

see whether he really regretted it. If so, I

would give him the letter. He would be im-

mensely pleased, and say, “Mamma-san,

you are the only one!” and would begin a

new letter in a milder tone.

Hearn preferred women of quiet dispo-

sition to those of lively temperament. He

liked bashful, downcast eyes better than

those of Westerners. He liked the eyes of

Kwannon and Jizo (Buddhist divinities).

When we were having our pictures taken,

he always told us to look downward, and

he himself had his picture taken in that

attitude.

Just before our eldest boy came, he

thought that children were lovely, and bor-

rowed one and kept it in our house.

At the time of our eldest son’s birth he

was very pleased, although extremely anx-

ious. He hoped that my delivery would be

easy, and felt sorry for my suffering. And

he said, “On such an occasion I ought to be

studying,” and he went out to the hanaré-

zashiki and worked.

When he heard the new-born baby’s

rst cry, he was affected by a very queer

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 65

feeling a feeling that he had never experi-

enced in all his life. When he saw the baby

the rst time, he could nd no words, and

later told me that he had had no breath,

and he often spoke of it in retrospect. He

loved the baby very much.

The following year he went to Yoko-

hama alone (his only other trip by him-

self had been once to Nagasaki, where he

had intended to stay for a week; but he

came back after one night, saying, “Never

again!”), and returned with a great many

toys. We were all surprised when we saw

so many, and among them we found some

for which he had paid ve and ten yen.

Hearn was an early riser. All the year

round, including New Year’s morning,

he gave a lesson to our eldest son for one

hour. When he was teaching at the univer-

sity, he had to be there at eight o’clock on

Tuesdays, so on that day the lesson was

given in the afternoon. It took one hour

to go to the university and back. During

the daytime, he used to go out for a two

hours’ walk about two or three o’clock,

and sometimes he read and wrote letters

or prepared his lectures; he used to do his

literary work chiey at night. At night, he

6 6 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

generally worked until twelve, and I of-

ten found him writing when he was un-

able to sleep.

When our daughter Suzuko came, he

felt that, in his old age, he would be unable

to foresee the girl’s future, and he said,

“What pain is in my heart!” He worried

over it with more sorrow than rejoicing.

When I wished to go out, I made it my

rule to go out on Thursdays, when he had

more hours of lessons at the university. On

the previous day he would kindly advise

me to go out and bring home a nice mi-

yagé. If we saw an article in the newspa-

per mentioning a good play by Danjuro at

the Kabukiza Theater, he would urge me

to go, and would say that I could tell him

all about it and consider that a miyagé.

But he always would add, “You return at

ten or eleven. Until then you are out and

this is not my home. How lonesome it is!

However, I shall be patient and wait for

your interesting tale.”

During his latter years he spoke of poor

health; he depended on me, was devoted

to me like a baby to its mother, and would

wait for my return. When he heard my foot-

step, he would say jokingly, but with great

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 67

delight, “Is that you, Mamma-san?” Should

I be a bit late, he would worry, thinking

that the kuruma had tipped over, or that

some other misfortune had befallen me.

When he wished to hire a kurumaya,

his rst question was, “Does he love his

wife ?” And if my answer were in the afr-

mative, he would say, “That is all right!”

There was one person whom Hearn held in

high esteem, but was greatly worried be-

cause he had such a stern expression to-

ward his wife.

Just before Hearn’s death a famous

personage asked for an interview. There

was, however, a man of the same name in

England who had the reputation of abus-

ing women, and Hearn thought that this

person might be the one, and intended to

refuse the request. Then he discovered

that it was some one else and decided to

meet him, but died before the interview.

He became so angry with any one who

abused the weak — women or children. I

cannot mention them here individually,

but there were many people who were once

very intimate with Hearn and from whom

he afterward became estranged because of

these same reasons.

6 8 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

Hearn was provoked when he heard

about any Japanese who had deserted his

wife, or anything of that kind.

Hearn would have done anything for

us, his wife and children. He did worry al-

most pitiably about things; for instance,

about his naturalization and about em-

ployment for which he did not care.

He hated such innovations as electric

cars. There were many occasions on which

we could have had a telephone installed,

but he would never listen to that propo-

sition. He chose rather to have more ser-

vants than a telephone. At that time there

was no electric nor gas light, but I don’t

think that he would have used them even

if we had had them. He did not take a sin-

gle ride on an electric car, and told us not

to ride.

He objected to ride in the railway train

when we were going to Yakizu. He wished

to ride in a kuruma when he was tired of

walking, but it was only necessary for him

to be patient for seven hours, so we took the

train. He thought how wonderful it would

be if every one walked and there were no

such things as trains. He liked to travel on

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 69

boats; he said that he would enjoy the trip

to Yakizu if he could go by boat.

When Hearn was coming to Japan,

there was a great storm during the voyage.

Everything on deck was washed away; the

excitement was intense; even the sailors

were seasick; he was the only one who felt

as usual and asked for meals, and that as-

tonished the people on the boat.

One time he came back from a walk

and told me this story delightfully. “While

passing through a part of Sendagaya, a

student came and asked me in broken

English: ‘You, from where?’ so I answered,

‘Okubo.’ ‘Your country, which?’ and I said,

‘Japan.’ The student asked again, ‘You,

what nationality?’ and I replied, ‘Jap-

anese.’ The student did not say another

word, and looked at me curiously. He fol-

lowed me. I was quiet, and walked on. And

that student came as far as my gate, dis-

covered the name on the gate, and then ex-

claimed, ‘Hah! Koizumi Yakumo! Koizumi

Yakumo !’” (Hearn’s Japanese name.) That

incident amused Hearn.

Hearn told another story. “One day,

while in America, a stranger came to me

7 0 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

and borrowed a book. I did not get his

name, nor did he take my name. About a

year later he returned the book to me, in-

vited me to a large restaurant, and gave

me a very good dinner. But even now I do

not know who it was.”

In the 37th year of Meiji, September

19, at three o’clock in the afternoon, I went

to his study. He was walking round, put-

ting his hands on his breast.

“Are you not well?” I asked.

“I have a new kind of sickness.”

I inquired, “What kind?”

“Sickness of heart, I think.”

“I think that you worry too much. You

had better rest quietly.”

This was my word of consolation for

him.

Immediately I sent a two-man jinriki-

sha for Dr. Kizawa, our family physician.

Hearn never wished to have me or the

children see him troubled. He told me that

I had better go away and not worry; but I

was worried, and I stayed there near his

desk. He started to write something, and

I advised him to keep quiet.

Hearn asked me to leave him alone,

and nished his writing. He said, “This is

a letter to Ume-san. If trouble comes, he

will help you. Perhaps, if this pain of mine

increases, I may die. If I die, do not weep.

Buy a little urn; you can nd one for three

7 2 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

or four sen. Put my bones in it, and bury it

near a quiet temple in the country. I shall

not like it if you cry. Amuse the children

and play cards with them — how much

better I shall enjoy that! There will be no

need of announcing my death. If any one

asks, reply, ‘Oh, he died some time ago!’

That will be quite proper.”

I asked him not to talk so sadly. When

I said that to him, he replied, “I am very

serious. Honestly, from my heart,” he said,

emphatically. Then he added, “No use,”

and rested quietly.

Several minutes later he stood up and

said, “I have no more pain. I wish to take

a bath.” He wanted a cold bath, and took

one in the bathroom.

“The pain has gone entirely. Strange —

I feel very well. Mamma-san, the sickness

has left me,” he said. “How about a little

whiskey for me?”

I thought to myself, “Whiskey is not

good for the heart”; but he insisted.

I said, “I don’t know. However, if you

wish some badly, I will give you some with

water.”

I gave him a glass, and he raised the

glass to his lips and said, “I shall not die.”

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 73

It made me feel better. Then he told

me that he had had this particular pain

for several days. “I will rest a little while,”

he said, and got on to the bed with a book.

In the mean time the doctor had come.

Hearn said, “What shall I do?” He left his

book and went into the guest-room, where

he received the doctor. He said, laugh-

ingly, “You must excuse me, my sickness

is gone.”

After the doctor had examined him, he

told us that there was nothing serious the

matter, and, as usual, talked and joked.

Hearn was almost always in good

health. He dreaded like a child to have

a doctor examine him, or to take medi-

cine. He would not have a doctor unless

I begged him to. When he was a trie ill,

and I failed to get a doctor in time, he

would say to me afterwards, “I am greatly

pleased that you forgot the doctor.”

Hearn, when he was not writing, would

walk around the room, or up and down the

roka, thinking things. Even when he was

sick, he was not the kind of man who could

stay in bed.

Two or three days before he died,

Osaki, the maid, told me that the cherry

7 4 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

tree was blossoming out of season (kaer-

izaki) in the garden by the studio. (In my

household things like that are of great in-

terest. To-day some little bamboo-sprouts

have shot up in the woods; look! a yel-

low buttery is itting about; Kazuo, my

son, found a little ant-hill; a toad came

to the door; or the sunset is full of beau-

tifully changing colors.) Such details as

these drew more attention from us than

if they had been important matters, and

Hearn was informed of every one of these

incidents. He was delighted to hear about

them. It seems funny that this gave us so

much pleasure. Toads, butteries, ants,

spiders, cicadas, bamboo-sprouts, and sun-

sets were among Papa-san’s best friends.

Now, in Japan, kaerizaki (to have the

cherry tree blossom out of season) is not a

sign of good fortune, so it worried me a lit-

tle. But when I told Hearn about it, he was

delighted, and replied, “Arigato” (Thanks).

He went near the edge of the roka, or nar-

row veranda that runs around the outside

of our house, and, looking at the owers,

said, “Hello.” He added, “’It is warm like

spring,’ the cherry tree thought. ‘Ah! this

is my world again’; and blossomed.”

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 75

Meditating a little while, he said again,

“Pity! soon it will become cold and fright-

ened, and die.”

The owers bloomed just one day, on

the 27th; in the evening all the petals had

uttered to the ground. This cherry tree

blossomed every season, and Hearn loved

it. Probably the cherry tree remembered

that, and blossomed to bid him farewell.

Hearn used to get up early in the

morning; but as he feared to disturb our

dreams, he always waited in his studio,

sitting by the hibachi (bronze bowl of

lighted charcoal) and smoking quietly.

He preferred a long kind of pipe. He

had about a hundred of them. The old-

est one he had the year he came, and

the others had been added. Each pipe

was carved. Among the carvings were:

Urashima (the Rip van Winkle of Ja-

pan); the kinuta of autumnal nights (the

kinuta is a wooden mallet used by women

to pound linen); eggplants; praying de-

mons; crows on a leaess branch; uten-

sils of the tea-ceremony; and verses of po-

ems, for instance, “To-night of last year.”

These were the favorite ones among the

hundred.

7 6 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

It seems that it was interesting to him

to smoke these. He chose one from many,

and always looked first at the mouth-

piece and the bowl, then lighted it. Sit-

ting on the oor-cushion very correctly,

he rocked himself slowly back and forth,

and smoked.

The day he died, the morning of the

26th, about half-past six, I went to his

study. He was already up and smoking. I

greeted him: “Good-morning!”

He seemed to be thinking about some-

thing. Then he said, “I had a very unusual

dream last night.”

We always talked about our dreams. I

inquired what kind of a dream it was.

He replied, “I traveled for a very long

distance. Now that I am smoking here, it

hardly seems to have been a real journey.

It was like a dream,” he continued; “not a

journey in Europe, nor in Japan — it was

a strange place.” He seemed to be enjoy-

ing himself.

Before they went to bed, it was the cus-

tom for our three children to say, “Papa-

san, good-night, pleasant dreams.” And

their Papa-san replied, “ The same to you.”

Or, in Japanese, “Yoki yume mimasho.”

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 77

That morning Kazuo, my son, before

going to school, came and said, “Good-

morning.” To this greeting his Papa-san

replied, “Pleasant dreams.” “The same to

you,” said Kazuo.

At eleven o’clock in the morning he was

walking up and down the roka. He saw a

kakemono (painting) depicting the sun-

rise, in the library tokonoma (raised re-

cess at one end of a room). This is a picture

of early morning. Many crows are ying

around, and it looks like a scene from a

dream. Hearn made the remark: “What

beautiful scenery! I should like to live in a

place like that.”

He bought many kakemono. He did not

decide to hang this one or that one, but

left the choice to me. He enjoyed looking at

whichever one I hung. He looked at it as a

visitor would, and was pleased. He had a

very aesthetic taste, I think. He liked tea

and drank it with pleasure. When I made

tea he played the part of a guest. He did

not perform the intricate details, but he

understood the principle of the cha-no-yu,

or tea-ceremony.

Hearn enjoyed listening to singing in-

sects. That autumn we had a matsu-mushi

7 8 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

(insects like crickets). Toward the end of

September, when the song of insects is

hushed, it made us all feel sad to hear the

matsu-mushi.

I asked Hearn, “Do you hear that

noise?”

He replied, “That poor little insect has

sung for us beautifully. How much I en-

joyed it! As the weather grows colder and

colder, does it know that it will have to die

soon? Poor, sad little insect!” After saying

that, so piteously, he continued, “Some of

these warm days we had better let it go

into the bushes.”

The early blossoming of the cherry tree,

the dream of a long journey, and the dying

song of the matsu-mushi must have been

signs of his death, of which it makes me

very, very sad to think, even to-day.

In the afternoon he asked, “What book

shall we send to Fujizaki-san, who is in

the Manchurian campaign?” He looked for

the book on the library shelves, and after-

wards wrote a letter to his friend.

While he was eating supper he looked

unusually happy, and joked and laughed

loudly. “Papa-san, good Papa-san!” —

“Sweet chickens!” — He talked with the

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 79

children, and, as usual, walked round the

library roka.

In a little less than an hour he came

back to me with a drawn face, and said

quietly, “Mamma-san, the sickness of the

other day has come back again.”

I went with him. For a little while he

walked around the room with his hands on

his breast. I advised him to lie quietly on

the bed, and he did so. Very soon after that

he was no longer of this world.

He died without any pain, having a lit-

tle smile around his mouth. It could not

be helped, if it was the order of Heaven. I

wish that I could have taken care of him,

and given all my strength in nursing him.

This was too easy a death for me.

A literal translation, which means that Mrs. Hearn

regretted having been given no opportunity to

show her love and devotion before death. — t

tRansLatoR.

8 0

I may name again some things that

Hearn liked extremely: the west, sunsets,

summer, the sea, swimming, banana trees,

cryptomerias (the sugi, the Japanese ce-

dar), lonely cemeteries, insects, “Kwaidan”

(ghostly tales), Urashima, and Horai

(songs) . The places he liked were: Mar-

tinique, Matsué, Miho-no-seki, Higosaki,

and Yakizu. He was fond of beefsteak and

plum-pudding, and enjoyed smoking. He

disliked liars, abuse of the weak, Prince

Albert coats, white shirts, the City of New

York, and many other things. One of his

pleasures was to wear the yukata in his

study and listen quietly to the voice of the

locust.

We often took walks together, crossing

the bridge of Ochiai to the neighborhood of

Arai-no-yakushi. Every time that Hearn

saw the chimney of the Ochiai crematory,

he would think, as he said, that he himself

would soon come out as smoke from that

chimney. He always liked quiet temple

grounds. Had there been a temple, a very

small and dilapidated building with walls

overgrown with weeds, it would have been

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 81

an ideal resting-place for Hearn’s body.

But such a place was hard to nd quickly.

His wish was to have a small tombstone

invisible from the outside he always spoke

of that. But it was nally decided that the

service should be held at the Kobudera

temple, and he was buried in the ceme-

tery of Zoshigaya.

As previously mentioned, Hearn had

lost interest in the Kobudera temple, but

there were many ties from former days.

More recently we had associated with the

abbot of the temple Denbo-in, in Asakusa.

We asked the abbot to ofciate, and then

the services were held at Kobudera. Hearn

was interested in the Zen sect.

The Zen sect, founded by Dharma

(Daruma) in India, in A.D. 513, and

brought by him to China, was introduced

thence into Japan by the bonze Dosho, in

the seventh century. Rejected at rst, it

was revived in 1192 by the bonze Eisei,

who is regarded as its founder in Nippon.

It is sometimes called the “sect of contem-

plation,” and its doctrines, as interpreted

by the many scholarly men who adopted

them, have made, perhaps, the greatest

8 2 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

impression of any of the sects on the na-

tional thought and life. Its teachings are

based upon the principle that every one

may arrive at the knowledge of the law

and nature of Buddha by meditation, with-

out being inuenced by dissenting beliefs.

Perchance because its adoption by the

Japanese was coeval with the establish-

ment of military feudalism, its dogmas

found special favor among the samurai

of old Japan, since their tendency was to

render one indifferent to danger or death.

The most powerful of its branches, the

Sodo-shu, was founded by Dosen in 1227.

Daruma is specially revered in the Zen

temples, where he is portrayed as an un-

shaven (and somewhat rufanly) ascetic,

clad in a red robe and lost in deep medita-

tion. According to tradition he sat for nine

years in uninterrupted contemplation and

remained so motionless that his legs rot-

ted off. His image is a favorite one for toys

and as a tobacconist’s sign. Dosho is said

to have been the rst to introduce crema-

tion into Japan.

Terry’s Japanese Empire, page cxcix.

s e t s u k o k o i z u m i 83

But the house of Koizumi was origi-

nally of the Jodo sect, so perhaps the tem-

ple Dentsu-in might have been preferable;

however, at that time the temple was not

kept up and I did not feel like going there.

The cemeteries in the temple grounds

were often removed, and I did not consider

it quite safe to bury him in such a place,

so we chose a public cemetery about which

we did not have to worry. The cemetery at

Aoyama was too modern, and Hearn never

liked it. We decided upon the public cem-

etery of Zoshigaya because it was quieter

and had a better location. Moreover, Zosh-

igaya was a place that Hearn used to like

to visit. Once he asked us to accompany

him to a ne place, and took me and the

children to Zoshigaya.

While taking walks around Kishibojin,

he often asked me how I liked the cawing

of the crows. The localities along the way

from Sekiguchi to Zoshigaya were excel-

lent, and Hearn said that he wished he

were twenty years younger, he should so

like to build a house on the top of a certain

hill. It was too bad he could not.

8 4 R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f L a f c a d i o H e a R n

He and I took a walk together to look

at gates in the neighborhood of Zoshigaya,

as we wished to alter our own front gate.

It was about two weeks before his death,

and it was the last walk that he and I were

to take together. The work of altering our

gate was begun two days before his death,

and after his death we hurried to have it

ready in time for the funeral.

THE END

Places mentioned:

Bingo Province 1

Hoki Province 2

Izumo 3

Kitabori 4

Kizuki shrine (Tokyo)

Kobé 5

Kumamoto 6

Kyoto 7

Lake Togo 8

Matsué 9

Nikko 10

Okayama 11

Oki Island 12

Okubo (Tokyo)

Sakai 13

Shimoichi 14

Tokyo 15

Yonago 16

Zaimokucho 17

Zoshigaya (Tokyo)