At this moment the pressure is very heavy--perhaps never will be much heavier. Why? Because I have excited some attention,--because there is a danger that I might succeed. You must not think I mean that everybody in general, or anybody in special, _thinks out these thoughts_. Not at all. Society, Church, and Press work blindly, instinctively,--like machinery set in motion to keep a level smooth. The machinery feels the least projection, and tries to flatten it out of existence,--without even considering what it may be. Diamond or dung makes no difference.
But if the obstruction prove _too_ hard, it is lifted out of the way of the machinery. That is where my one chance lies--in making something solid that forces this kind of attention.
You might ask me, if I think thus, why dedicate a book to our friend the doctor? That is a different matter. My literary work _cannot_ be snubbed; and it goes into drawing-rooms where the author would be snubbed. Besides, a doctor can accept what other people can't.
You see that there are many who come to Japan that want to see me; and you think this is a proof of kindly interest. Not a bit of it. It is precisely the same kind of curiosity that impels men to look at strange animals,--a six-legged calf, for instance. The interest in the book is in some cases genuine; the interest in the personality is of the New York _Police Gazette_ quality. Don't think I am exaggerating. When I get my fingers caught in the cogs, I can feel it.
So much for the ugly side of the question. Let us take the cheerful one.
_Every_ man who has new ideas to express, at variance with the habits of his time, _has to meet the same sort of opposition_. It is valuable to him. It is valuable _to the world at large_. Weakness can't work or burst through it. Only strength can succeed. The man who does get through has a right to be proud, and to say: "I am strong." With health and time, I shall get through,--but I do feel afraid sometimes of physical disaster. Of course I have black moments; but they are also foolish moments--due to disordered nerves. I must just hammer on steadily and let money quarrels go to the deuce, and sacrifice everything to success. When you are in the United States you may be able to help me with the business part of the thing--providing that you understand exactly the circumstances, and don't imagine me to be a possible Kipling or Stevenson. Not only am I a mere mite in literature, but a mite that has to be put forward very, very cautiously indeed. "Overestimate" me! well, I should rather say you did.