SAINT-PIERRE, MARTINIQUE, 1887
281 Rue Victor Hugo, St. Pierre
Martinique
French W.I.
Dear Krehbiel:
I was delighted to get your letter, the first which reached me from America during my trip. My own correspondence has been irregular, though I have written a good many short letters; but the amount of work on my hands has been something enormous,—and I have only had five idle days, caused by a fever due to imprudence. I got into a marshy town, got wet, and came home with a burning headache. The result was not serious, except that I had to stop all writing for a while.
You ask me to send you a hint about my work; but I think it were best to say nothing about it. I have a very large mass of mss prepared & don’t yet know what I am going to do with it: it is not polished as I should wish, but I hope to work it into proper shape in a few days more. It consists simply of a detailed account of impressions, sensations, colors &c. I have tried to put the whole feeling of the trip on paper. Then I have about $60 worth of photos to illustrate it. My photo set is very complete;—I have also a rich collection of Coolie and half-breed types, including many nude studies.
Strange as you might think it, this trip knocks the poetry out of me! The imagination is not stimulated, but paralyzed by the satiation of all its aspirations and the realization of its wildest dreams. The artistic sense is numbed by the display of colors which no artist could paint; and the philosophical sense is lulled to inactivity by the perpetual current of novel impressions, by the continual stream of unfamiliar sensory experiences. Concentration of mind is impossible.
It pleases me, however, to have procured material for stories, which I can write up at home; and for romantic material the West Indies offer an unparalleled field of research. I shall return to them again at my earliest opportunity;—the ground is absolutely untilled, and it is not in the least likely that any body in the shape of a Creole is ever going to till it.
By this time you will have seen the doll. I want to remind that this is more than a doll: it is really an artistic model of the dress worn by the women of Martinique,—big earrings and all. The real earrings and necklaces are pure gold; the former worth 175 francs a pair; the latter often running as high as 500, 600, even 900 francs.
I was very glad to hear of your success with the Century; I only trust you will charge high: as a specialist you ought to receive more than the ordinary writer.
In case this reaches you before leaving N.Y., I hope you will be able to make some arrangement with Joe or somebody, so that I can put my things in a place of safety for a day or two, until I can try to arrange matters with the Harpers. I will be obliged to stay a short while in New York,—and shall want a room badly, until my ms. & photos have been disposed of, and my proof-reading has been done on “Chita.”
Very truly yours
with affectionate regards to all
Lafcadio Hearn
P.S.—I return with the Barracouta.
My enquiries about the marimba and other instruments have produced no result, except the discovery that our negroes play the guitar, the flute, the flageolet, the cornet-à-piston! Some play very well; all the orchestras and bands are colored. But the civilized instrument has killed the native manufacture of aboriginalities. The only hope would be in the small islands, or where slavery still exists, as in Cuba. There are one or two African songs still current, but they are sung to the tamtam—
Welleli, welleli,
hm, hm!
Papa mon ca papa mon
hm, hm!
Welleli, welleli,
hm, hm!
Maman mon ca maman mon
hm, hm!
Welleli, etc.