Studying in one class, for a university text, Tennyson's "Princess" (my selection); in another, "Paradise Lost,"--the students wanted it, because they heard it was difficult. They are beginning to perceive that it is unspeakably difficult for them. (Remember, they know nothing of Christian mythology or history.) I lecture on the Victorian poets, etc., and on special themes,--depending a good deal on dictation.
Only two and one half miles from the university. Seas of mud between. One hour daily to go, and one to return by jinrikisha!--agony unspeakable. But I have one joy. No one ever dreams of coming to see me. To do so one should have webbed feet and be able to croak and to spawn,--or else one should become a bird. It has rained for three months almost steadily;--some of the city is under water: the rest is partly under mud. And to increase the amphibious joy, half the streets are torn open to put down Western water-mains. They will yawn thus, probably, for years to come.
The professors I have seen few of. I send you two books; notice the charming pictures to "Inoshima." Florenz is a Magister Artium Liberalium of Heidelberg, I think,--fat and good-natured and a little--odd. There is a Russian professor of philosophy, Von Koeber,--a charming man and a divine pianist. There is a go-and-be-damned-to-you American professor of law.... There is a Jesuit priest, Emile Heck,--professor of French literature. There is a Buddhist priest, professor of Buddhism. There is an anti-Christian thinker and really great philosopher, Inoue Tetsujir[=o],--lectures against Western Christianity, and on Buddhism. There is an infidel,--a renegade,--a man lost to all sense of shame and decency, called Lafcadio Hearn, professing atheism and English Literature and various villainous notions of his own.
The Jesuit I did not want to know. I am afraid of Jesuits. Out of the corner of mine cyclops-eye I looked upon him. Elegantly dressed,--with a beard enormous, bushy, majestic, black as hell,--and a small keen bright black caressing demoniac eye. The Director, who knows not, introduced me!--oh! ah! Embarrassed at the thought of my own thoughts contrasted with the perfect courtesy of the man. Blundered;--spoke atrocious French; gave myself away; got questioned without receiving any idea in return except an idea of admiration for generous courtesy and very quick piercing keenness. Felt uncomfortable all day after--talked to myself as if I had still before me the half-shut Jesuit eye and the vast and voluminous beard. _Et le fin au prochain numéro,--ou plus tard._