—'I do not see,' observed the countess, 'much in the mere act of writing a letter, but the letter itself is interesting enough, and, besides, I must say I am much amused at the manner in which you manage to bring out things to suit your purpose, just indeed as though you are writing a novel and would make us serve you as materials.'
—'Not at all, but just a little bit of a Summer Dream,' I said.
—'What!'
—'Nothing, I beg your pardon.'
—'But, baron, I should like to ask you another question. With us, pardon, or an act of forgiving, is considered a great virtue. It is an act of courage, and, at the same time, it contains in it delicacy and tenderness; especially when the subject is a woman, that virtue sometimes amounts to nobleness, or even sublimity. It is, therefore, regarded in the West as one of the greatest elements of ethics; but some people I hear say that that idea is wanting in oriental ethics, though the notion of pity exists. Is that correct?'
—'No, not exactly,' I answered, 'but you interest me by putting such a question. However, it requires some explanation. I am afraid I weary you.'
—'No, not at all; go on, if you please.'
—'Perhaps you know that the fundamental idea in Buddhism is mercy and forbearance. These attributeswould already suggest an idea of forgiving and of not taking offence. Then, again, in Japan there are several new Buddhist sects, which are very much like Protestantism in Europe. In fact, some of them go so far as to allow priests to marry. I say new sects, but not so new as you may imagine, because they are as old as eight hundred years. The essence of the tenets held by them is that the great Budha Amida is the very embodiment of mercy and forgiveness, and therefore, if one devoutly throws oneself upon him and asks his salvation, all sins committed by the suppliant would be at once forgiven and salvation granted. Theologically speaking, there is much room for discussion about this, but it is not the point which I have in view. I only mean to say that this theory is nothing else than a great example of pardon. In Confucian ethics there are more names given to different kinds of virtues than in the West. The word "Jen" is the name of a virtue most comprehensive. There is no word corresponding to it in the West. There are some who translate it as "humanity," others "benevolence," some even as "charity" in its broadest sense, but all these only represent a part of the original meaning. In that word the idea of pardoning and forgiving is amply implied. A lord who pardons an offender magnanimously is a lord rich in the virtue of "Jen," There is also one classification of virtues, comprised in two words, "chung," "shu." The first word is generally translated as loyalty, but in this instance it is not necessarily loyalty to a master, but faithfulness and truthfulness in general. The second word, "shu," has no equivalent in the Western language. It means this: We should put ourselves in the position of any one who has done wrong against us or otherwise committed some error, and we view the matter with the greatest leniency, and thus give the most favourable consideration. The Chinese ideograph of it is composed of two other ideographs,"like" and "mind," that is to say, "like one's own mind," meaning—consider the matter as your own, and act toward him in such a way as your own mind would like him to act toward you under the same circumstances if he were in your place. This ideograph is often used for the very purpose of an action which cannot be any other than the equivalent of pardoning and forgiving. Are you not becoming a little wearied?'
—'Oh, no! Go on.'
—'Very well! In our Bushido, that is the teaching of chivalry, of which you must have heard, "pardoning" and "forgiving" is the important element. We have a proverb saying, "When the helpless bird takes refuge in the breast of the hunter, he would not kill it." This proverb is very well known and is considered as the embodiment of a warrior's magnanimity. From all that I have just said you will understand that the criticism which says oriental ethics lack notions of pardon and forgiving is incorrect.'
—'Thank you very much,' said the countess. 'In such matters one requires much study of and penetration into the very depths of thought and reasoning of a people. One certainly ought not to come to a hasty conclusion. Japan is a country which I am so anxious to see.'
—'Go, or rather, come, by all means, you will be most welcome,' I said.
—'But it is so far off and travelling will take such a long time,' said she.
—'No, it will not take so long a time as you imagine. Means of communication are so quick nowadays. The quickest route is through America by the Canadian Pacific via Vancouver. Another route is via San Francisco, which takes a few days longer. If you go by the Canadian Pacific, like a letter in a postbag, it takes only a few days over three weeks. When I cameto Europe last year I left Yokohama on the 10th of February. Having arrived at Victoria, in the island of Vancouver, I made my way to Seattle, where I disembarked. I took thence the Great Northern Railway down to St. Paul and Chicago, a route which runs between the Canadian and San Francisco lines, and on to New York. I spent a day at Seattle. I had to stop at the summit of the Rockies for five hours, on account of an accident which happened to a train in front of ours. It made me miss the junction, so that I lost more than one day on the way. I spent two days in New York, and one in Washington. The mail steamer in which I crossed the Atlantic was not the quickest one. And yet on the morning of the 13th March I was quietly taking tea at an hotel in Liverpool. Last year was a leap year, but counting by days, inclusive one extra, the whole journey took thirty-two days in all. You see the globe is like an egg—the higher the latitude, the shorter the distance.'
—'That looks long enough.'
—'Well, but one cannot jump over from one side of the world to the other in one leap.'
—'Supposing the Trans-Siberian Railway free again, what do you think of it?'
—'Well, a friend of mine who took that route took twenty days from Petersburg to the Pacific Coast. It is, of course, shorter; but you see travelling continuously by train is not very agreeable. I believe that the railway services in those quarters will be much improved and made quicker, but at present, that is to say, judging from experience before the war, the service is said to be very irregular and long. I should prefer a sea-voyage. The direct service between Europe and Japan on board the German or French mail ships through the Indian Ocean seems to be most agreeable. Of course it takes a longer time: it takes from forty-four to forty-sevendays from Marseilles or Genoa to Yokohama. I have twice taken that route on a French mail ship and liked the voyage very much.'
—'But one would be killed by sea-sickness.'
—'Not at all. The sea is not always calm in the Mediterranean, so also between Hong Kong and Japan. But all the other parts are usually very calm. Besides, one soon gets accustomed to the sea, after two or three days, excepting some few persons who are by nature averse to the sea altogether.'
—'I cannot believe it.'
—'You must believe it, it is a fact, and moreover, on mail steamers there is much fun and pleasure; dances and concerts are given on board from time to time. The meals are splendid and plentiful. Passengers soon become friendly.'
—'Ah! that's too good to hear, but I wonder if it is always so,' she said.
A lady, who had travelled in the Far East, joined us a few minutes since. She spent two months in Japan, she said, and supported my views about the voyage, and talked of the pleasure of the trips somewhat in opposition to the observations of the countess.
The marchioness now turned to me and said, 'I have just been talking to your friend Monsieur Matoni about the new invention of Monsieur Blanry. A long account of it was given inLe Matinthe other day. It is an improvement on the wireless telegraphy. Guns may be fired, wheels may be turned by electricity produced by wireless apparatus. He is going to give a lecture illustrated by practical experiments. Would you like to go? If so, I would send you a ticket for a box for yourself and friends.'
—'I shall be delighted,' I answered.
—'Marchioness patronises science,' said Monsieur Matoni to me, as though he only meant me to hear him,and in a further subdued voice whispered, 'Her tastes differ from the ordinary tastes of ladies.'
The visitors were now gradually dispersing. The marchioness and her sister also rose to take their leave, asking us, as they did so, to visit them on the marchioness's next reception day. We had stopped for longer than we anticipated, despite an appointment I had at my hotel. Soon after the departure of those ladies, however, we also said our goodbyes to the duchess and her daughters, and to the few people who had still remained.
We were again wafted through the air, and were once more moving over the tops of countless houses on the way. On reaching my hotel, I shook hands with my friend and his wife on the tops of the beautiful avenue-trees in front of the hotel.
Greek inspiration—Semitic sympathy—Religion—Difference between Japanese and European chivalry—What is the Bushi?—The weakest point of a hereditary military organisation—Introduction of the new system—New commoners and the history of their emancipation—Combination of democratic ideas and conservative traditions—Old bottles and new wine—The Great Change of 1867—Napoleon—Negligence of a proper estimation—Scenery of Japan—-History of Tokio—European and Japanese method of dwelling—President Roosevelt and jiujitsu
Greek inspiration—Semitic sympathy—Religion—Difference between Japanese and European chivalry—What is the Bushi?—The weakest point of a hereditary military organisation—Introduction of the new system—New commoners and the history of their emancipation—Combination of democratic ideas and conservative traditions—Old bottles and new wine—The Great Change of 1867—Napoleon—Negligence of a proper estimation—Scenery of Japan—-History of Tokio—European and Japanese method of dwelling—President Roosevelt and jiujitsu
It seems my young secretary, noticing I was asleep, and fearing that I might catch cold, brought a rug and covered me, which action roused me for a moment, but I soon returned to the same dreamland again.
Once more I was wafted through the air, and found myself in a large entrance-hall with gilded ceiling and walls painted with pictures. It was brilliantly lighted, and in one corner a band was playing. A broad staircase, the upper part of which branched off into two, led to the upper part of the house, numerous men in livery lined both sides of the passage, displaying the sure sign of aristocracy. There were balconies, or rather corridors all round overlooking the hall. I ascended the staircase, and, passing along one side of the corridors, entered a large chamber which was evidently the reception-room. But seeing but few people there, proceeded to an open window at the end of the room and looked down into the garden, which was brilliantly illuminated. In a few moments I moved, almost unconsciously, into a further room. It was the study of the host, who with his wife was showing theroom to a group of guests. The host, noticing me, made me welcome, and introduced me to one of the guests in particular. It was the Prince Royal of Greece. I exchanged some words with him, in the course of which I remarked that Greece was the country which I was most anxious to see, inasmuch as it teemed with historical interest. As I did so, the scene of many heroic actions, above all, those of Salamis and Marathon, together with the glory which Byron sung for her freedom in the recent century vividly arose before my mental eyes.
It was then announced that the music was about to commence, and the party moved on. I was with a charming lady. She was of Semitic blood. Her complexion was snow white, her eyes were dark, as also her hair, which was surmounted by a coronet of pearls, and round her throat was a necklace of the same. She happened to know me already by name, through her relatives whom I met in England. This naturally afforded us a subject of conversation as we proceeded. On arriving at one end of the corridors we stood, still conversing, and looking down into the hall, while the other people moved on the further end of the corridor where many more guests gradually arrived. While thus conversing, a nobleman passing us was introduced to me.
—'All the generals are gone to the Front,' he said, rather suddenly.
At first I thought he was referring to the war in the Far East, though I soon realised what he meant. He appeared a little excited.
—'There is more exaggeration than fact,' said I. 'I am quite confident that there will be no rupture.'
At that moment some one persuaded my fair companion to go over to where the prince was sitting. I followed at a distance, and took my seat in an obscureplace in the corridor. From the corridor of the other side, an operatic singer, accompanied by a pianist, rendered the choicest of his songs, and the bands played in the intervals.
I listened to the songs and the music and watched the people. Sitting alone I am sure I must have looked awkward and stupid; which, however, is a thing I do not much mind. Now and then the host came and exchanged some words with me. He was busy looking after his guests generally, but managed to tell me he would invite me to a special dinner very soon to which also the Duchess Fairfield would be asked. The hostess was similarly occupied, and I did not converse much with her, except to pass a few remarks about music. She said she preferred vocal music to instrumental. The music over, all went down to the garden. It was delightful: the open air on a summer's night is always so. Light but choice refreshments were served there. The guests, partaking of them as they wished, chatted here and there in groups of two and three.
The night was far advanced and the guests began to disperse one after another. I also left, but without bidding adieu either to the host or hostess lest I might disturb them. On my way out I saw the lady with whom I had talked in the corridor still sitting on a bench chatting with a few gentlemen. She seemed to notice me, but I merely bowed and passed on, though I fancied she had some sympathy for us Japanese. She did not, neither does any member of her community, say anything about the hard fate of her race or the countless hardships which they are suffering, especially of late, in certain quarters of the globe. In this world, we know there are many matters in which silence speaks more than words.
Time and space, and indeed, sequence of events, are incongruous in Dreamland. One flits from place toplace. I now found myself in a large mansion. It was the residence of the Marchioness Vivastine. I was of the few early arrivals. The salon was rather dark, but cool and spacious. The marchioness was not yet down, but the valet told me she would soon appear. In a minute or two she entered accompanied by her sister, asking as they greeted us our pardon for keeping us waiting. More people now arrived one after the other. The marchioness proceeded to make tea and distributed it, assisted by her sister, much in the same way as did the Duchess of Fairfield and her daughters. I was naturally introduced to many of the visitors, Princess A., Countess B., Baron C., Monsieur D., etc., but for me, a foreigner, it is impossible to remember their names. The Duchess of Fairfield and the Lady Dulciana were among the new arrivals.
—'Baron and I had a very heated discussion the other day,' remarked the marchioness. Then turning to me, she said, 'Did we not?' To which I replied, 'If you please, it was indeed interesting.'
—'Did you go to the Trocadero the other evening?' said the marchioness.
—'Yes! we did. Thank you very much for sending the box. And the duchess and her party were there too,—in a box close by ours,' I added.
—'Did the lecture interest you?' asked the marchioness.
—'Oh yes! the experiments were all very interesting, but I hardly understood a single sentence of the lecture,' I answered.
—'No wonder! for no one else understood it, at least, I did not. It was so scientific,' interposed Baron C.
'Ah! you were there too, of course,' said I. 'And the best fun of the evening was that there was a man distributing hand-bills. At first we all thought it was a kind of syllabus of the lecture, but in reality it was theadvertisement of a competitor stating that he was an earlier inventor.'
The marchioness and her sister, being the hostesses, were unable to talk long to each guest. I soon found myself sitting next to the duchess on a sofa, with Baron C. in front of us on a chair. Our conversation having turned upon the question of the separation of state and religion, Baron C., who was keen on the subject, being a Deputy, said:
—'With us it is a very interesting question. There are many points to be thought of and discussed, but I think it interests outsiders very little, especially a person like yourself, a Japanese, for I understand the Japanese gentry have very little religion.'
—'And yet,' said the duchess, 'in my opinion there is scarcely a single people who have no religion at all. Bushido is the creed of the Japanese gentry, as I understand, and in truth it is nothing else than a religion. The Latinreligio, from which the term religion is derived, comes from the verbreligereto hold tight. In that sense, at least, Bushido must also be taken for a religion. I know something about it, especially through your writings. But, baron, will you please explain to me something about the points of resemblance and difference between our ancient chivalry and your Bushido?'
—'I am not, madam, well acquainted with your chivalry, and, therefore, I cannot pretend to hit the mark. But I know that one of the ideals of your chivalry was "bravery" to the point of being fearless of death; in that there is certainly a great resemblance. Another of your ideals was loyalty and truthfulness. Always ready to render assistance to one weaker; in that also there is a great resemblance. The third ideal was: a great devotion to religion. On this point I must admit there is some difference. I do not say our Bushidespised the idea of supernatural beings, but you see our Bushi had more faith in their own spirit of self-reliance, therefore religion governed their thoughts to no such degree as it did in the West. Then comes a great difference between them,—I mean their attitudes as regards the fair sex. But have you no objection to my proceeding further?'
—'Not at all,' said the duchess.
—'Very well,' said I. 'With your chivalry the custom of rendering respect to the fair sex had been carried to such a high pitch that it was nothing less than adoration or worship. I do not say the motive was originally bad, because it came no doubt from the idea of helping the weaker. But, remember, it often happened that too much prominence was given to keeping faithfulness to women, even where one had some higher duty which ought to have claimed the whole loyalty of his heart. The subject is rather too delicate for me to describe minutely, but you can see what I mean. In the days of your chivalry faithfulness in love-affairs was looked upon in general as gallantry, no matter whether the affair was honourable or otherwise, but with the Japanese Bushido it was very different. It was not because a Bushi was heartless toward the weaker sex, but effeminacy was a thing which he despised most. In the days gone by in Japan, if a Bushi had been found paying too much attention to a lady, and making himself a slave to her, to the neglect of his duty, he would have been hooted out of society. With European chivalry, therefore, the tendency of desire was to be noticed by others for his actions performed in homage to a lady, whilst with our chivalry one would try to do his utmost to conceal his emotion and even to look cold. In the West, therefore, the word "gallantry," which was originally used more for "dashing and noble bravery" came in common parlance to have quite a differentmeaning, as you know. Nothing of the sort has ever taken place with us.'
—'But I thought your Samurai also had love-affairs—I was at least made to understand so from your story of the other day about a young Samurai,' interrupted Lady Dulciana.
—'Yes, that is true, but our Samurai is not "trees and stones" as we say, and you must know there are exceptions to every rule,' I replied and continued.
—'There was also another great difference. In the West chivalry had grown and decayed, traversing always pretty much the same line; I mean it had undergone no great transformation. But in Japan the case was somewhat different. There it became united with the art of intellectual learning, and has made Bushido, that is, the ways of Bushi, more systematic and ethical.'
—'What you have just told us,' said Baron C., 'seems to explain some difference which is said to exist in the attitudes of men towards women in your country and ours.'
—'Perhaps so,' I answered, 'where a gentleman approaches a lady and kisses her hand, as one sees commonly in the best Parisian society, a Japanese would stand at a distance and make a respectful bow. There is no doubt, it seems to me, that a great many of the customs which prevailed in the feudal period are still influencing your modern society, and ours also in Japan; hence the difference which still exists between the customs of Japan and Western nations. Broadly speaking, I can say that in the West friendship or affection moved more towards intimacy, whilst in the East it moved more towards respect.'
—'Ah, I remember one thing. Some years ago there was a smart American who was a keen observer of different customs and manners. He said, "the Japanesehit their wives before strangers, and caress them in private, whilst the Occidentals worship their wives before strangers, and beat them in private." I beg your pardon, I must not tell you such a thing, I withdraw it at once; but I can say this, it is dangerous to gauge the customs and manners of other countries only by the measure of one's own country. The position of our women is not so low as represented by those who look through the colour of their own glass.'
—'Very true,' said Baron C. 'Such things often occur. One ought always to be on guard, lest one commit unaccountable errors quite inadvertently. But what do you mean by saying your Bushido has become systematic and ethical. Let us have a little more light on the subject.'
—'Quite so,' said the duchess. 'I should also like to be more informed on that subject. One never gets tired of things Japanese, especially in these days.'
—'I am afraid I shall appear somewhat dogmatic, but if you have enough patience I will explain. In the Far East, Bun and Bu, that is to say matters pertaining to Intellectual culture and matters pertaining to military training, were always regarded, at least in theory, as co-existent and of equal importance. They were compared to the wings of a bird, or to the two wheels of a cart. The generals who were held in the highest esteem were those who were efficient in both. The same esteem was held for all warriors, no matter their degree or rank; though, of course, the higher the rank the greater the excellence expected. They all became imbued with a desire for literary and ethical education, and thus civil elements were introduced into military training. The best ideas and notions of chivalry were ethically systematised, and these ideas and notions came to be nurtured and developed according to the normal roots of ethics. We were fortunate in arriving at this solution, for the country had enjoyeda long peaceful epoch, and the Bushi had therefore sufficient time to give their attention to both subjects. Besides the policy of the country had been directed to that end. Moreover, four hundred thousand families of Bushi, having enjoyed their position by hereditary succession, and having no need to labour for existence, all that they had to do was to make themselves as much "a gentleman" as possible. Of course, there were some who became outcasts and some who were newly enrolled, and some who were degraded, and some who were promoted from various causes, but these were exceptions. As a general rule they succeeded to their father's position and handed it down to their own successors. Colleges were established by their lords where they received intellectual education side by side with fencing, riding, the use of spears or the art of jiujitsu.'
—'You mentioned just now,' said the duchess, 'four hundred thousand families of Bushi, and of the heredity of their service. That seems to be somewhat different from our knighthood, which was more of the nature of personal distinction, and its ranks were filled by personal enlistment, although naturally they came from the same class of people.'
—'Well,' said I, 'our term Bushi, otherwise called Samurai, is a comprehensive one. It comprised all the retainers of the feudal lords. They generally lived, with their families, in the capital town of the lords under whom they served. There was generally a quarter in these towns where the Samurai lived quite apart from other people. Under some lords, there were Samurai who lived in the country, but they were exceptions. By Bushi then we understand those retainers in general, and as I said the service usually became hereditary. It was the strong point of our military men and also their weakest point, or at least it became so in the course of time.'
—'What do you mean by weak point? Tell me, please,' said Baron C.
—'I say "weak point," because that system as an organisation for fighting purposes became inefficient: the reason is almost plain without saying. You see the hereditary system has one advantage: respect and affection increase from generation to generation. Personal intelligence was also acquired under that system so long as the training and instruction were well attended to, but the descendant of a warrior who had led, for instance, one thousand or one hundred men with great ability, could not always be expected to do as well as his ancestor. This is so from the very fact that ability and skill for qualifying one for a higher position is not a thing which is hereditary. This is the weakest point of an hereditary military organisation. "Ministership and generalship are no inherited stocks" is our old saying. Napoleon's eighteen marshals were, one and all, children of the time. Even before the restoration of the present Imperial régime we perceived this weak point, and that was one of the reasons we made a radical change in our military system and adopted the system of universal service. One might think that, by doing so, the spirit of respect and affection, in other words, loyalty and patriotism, might be lessened in the ranks of the troops; but that is not so, for with us the spirit of loyalty to and patriotism for the Emperor and country is very strong among all the people. And because the feudal system had been abolished and the whole nation came to owe no other allegiance than that which is direct to the Emperor, there is no necessity of making any difference among the different classes of the people in regard to those services. As to intelligence, we do not leave the children without education, whatever class they may belong to, I mean to say, we have adopted a system of universal education which gives sufficient knowledge and therefore intelligence tothe men enlisted in the ranks from all classes. As to the officers, we take in any candidates who are willing to be suitably educated as such, provided they show sufficient capacity, without any distinction of class or family. It seems to us the only way to procure the most efficient officers. We are very radical in these matters. One can see in the Japanese army or navy sons of noblemen or rich merchants being commanded and led by an officer who has risen from the lowest class of the people. There may even be officers whose origin, if scrutinised minutely, belonged to a class vulgarly called "New Commoners."'
—'I think I understand now,' said Baron C. 'But do you mean to say Bushido is a thing of the past? We are made to understand that the whole Japanese army and navy, indeed the whole nation, are animated with the spirit of Bushido at this very moment.'
—'No, I did not say Bushido was a thing of the past. Bushi exists no more, it is true, except that those who belonged to that class still enjoy the privilege of being called Shizoku (knight family), which, however, has no legal signification, and therefore is only an empty title. There may be a Shizoku driving a carriage or earning a living by selling trifles. It is sad to think of the fact, as far as personal consideration is concerned, but they have given their benefits and privileges for the general good of the country, and I am glad to say that the spirit of Bushido is now made the common property of the whole nation. It has been spread throughout every rank of the Japanese.'
—'It seems sad when we think about Bushi, as you say, from a personal point of view,' said the duchess; 'but when a country makes such a great change as your country has done, some great sacrifice on the part of some portion of the community is inevitable.'
—'And especially so with our Bushi,' said I, 'because they were in fact the chief instruments by which thepresent great change has been brought about. When we view things in this way, we can say that our Bushi fought and sacrificed their lives in order to destroy their own order.'
—'But what do you mean by the "New Commoners," which you mentioned just a minute ago?' asked Baron C.
—'By "New Commoners" is meant those who have been newly made ordinary commoners by emancipation. There was in Japan a class of people below the class of the common subjects of the empire; they neither enjoyed the rights of ordinary Japanese nor owed any duty similar to others. I mean to say, they enjoyed no citizenship, but, on the other hand, they had in most cases not to pay taxes for the lands they tilled or dwelt on. Their position may be in one way compared with the slavery which existed in the West from the Roman period onward. But there were two points of a great difference. In the West the slaves had their masters whom they served, and it seems that no personal pollution in our sense was attached to them. In Japan, those people had no masters to serve, and earned their living by their own labour. At the same time, however, they were regarded as having personal pollution, so much so indeed, that they were not allowed, nor did they themselves dare, to enter within the door of an ordinary Japanese, still less could they intermarry or indeed hold any social intercourse with them. A love-affair like that of Aïda, a slave girl, and Ardamès in the opera "Aïda," which I had the pleasure of seeing in your company the other evening, is a thing almost unimaginable in Japan between a girl belonging to the class I have just spoken of, and a man of any other class. The number of these people was only a very small minority of the whole population. But they were to be found in all parts of Japan. In the country they formed here and there small villages. They were also to be found in thevicinity of towns, but always having separate communities. They were the only people who dealt with dead oxen and horses, and even dogs, and also were the only people who dressed the skins of those animals. In former days in Japan no beef was eaten but by those people. Horse flesh was not eaten even by them. The common notion was that horse flesh was sour and inedible, but I am sorry to say that, of late years, it is eaten by the poorer classes to some extent. The dealers in it insist on continuing the trade on the ground that the same business is carried on in the midst of the most enlightened nations in the West. I do not like the idea at all. However, to proceed with my story. When a cow, a horse, or a bullock belonging to a commoner died, it was notified to a community of those people, who in a group came and carried the carcase to a convenient place, where they skinned it and buried the rest; and in the case of a cow or a bullock, if it had not died from any infectious disease, they took away its flesh to their homes, as well as the skin and horns. It was the occupation of those communities who lived in the vicinity of a town to prepare the skins sent to them from all parts of the country. Their lot was not, therefore, an enviable one, as you may perceive. This class of people was called "Yeta," which is represented, though by corruption, by the Chinese ideographs meaning "much pollution." No one knows exactly what their origin was; some say they were the remnants of Mongolian troops who remained in the land after the total destruction of Mongolian armada, while some say they might have been prisoners from Corea; but all these conjectures are not satisfactory. There was another portion of the people very much akin to those just described. They were known by the name of "Hinin," a term which is represented by two Chinese ideographs, meaning "not-man," which suggests a similarity of notionto the European term "outlaw." This class was in number even less than the former. Their occupation was also very different. They chiefly lived by fishing or by making some trifling articles, and, therefore, no such deep stigma of personal pollution was attached to them as to the other ones. In fact, it was supposed that among this class of men there were sometimes to be found a Samurai declassed from one cause or another. In Yedo, now Tokio, homeless destitutes were known by that name. One must not suppose, however, that either class was unprotected by law, for their lives and properties were respected just as those of ordinary people; and, moreover, they were not necessarily poor people, because some of them, especially those who lived near towns, were very well off. A characteristic of these people was that they had a certain sentiment of community throughout their own class without distinction of locality. They had no privilege of attending a "Shinto" or Buddhist temple belonging to the citizen classes, but they had here and there their own Buddhist temple and priests. I have never seen any instance of their possessing any Shinto temples; this fact arises from the very nature of Shintoism, which is most sensitive of anything unclean, in other words, most opposed to any pollution. The Imperial régime was inaugurated with most enlightened notions, especially in the matter of personal freedom. At the very beginning of the Imperial régime, the present Marquis Ito was governor of the prefecture of Hiogo-Kobe, and he emancipated, on his own initiative, the Yeta and Hinin under his government, and made them ordinary commoners. There was little formality in such matters in those days. A governor of a province sometimes took such measures on his own responsibility. In the course of a few years the Imperial Government emancipated all of those people throughout the whole empire, and the people thus emancipatedcame to be vulgarly called "New Commoners." That term, however, is fast losing its significance, inasmuch as those people are daily acquiring common intercourse with the ordinary people; this is especially the case with those who transfer their abodes to other parts of the country, where their identity is not known. I am even told there are one or two deputies in the House of Representatives who originally belonged to that class.'
—'It shows a very bold and enlightened policy on the part of your Government,' said the duchess. 'From all that you have said, it appears that the success of the great changes in your country is due to the combination of democratic ideas with conservative traditions; in other words, you seem to have well succeeded in "putting new wine into old bottles."'
—'If you please, you may think so,' I said; 'that phrase describes our situation very aptly. You see, the present régime of our Imperial Government is, after all, a restoration to its ancient form, animated by modern spirits. Our change has not taken place through any uprising of the people at large. Before the Restoration, European notions of "Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity" had not been much developed, it is true, but then the people had not been labouring under any great oppression and destitution. They were not rich, as a rule, but they were mostly happy, and not in an extreme condition of misery, as was the case in Europe when the popular movements based on those notions commenced, or as is the case in a certain country now before our eyes. The movements which caused our great change were due almost entirely to aspirations of a political nature, that is to say, for the bettering of the political organism of the country. The matter was taken up by the upper classes, and was fought out chiefly by them, and, therefore, when the strife came to an endthere existed no more class animosity, and the people, both high and low, devoted their energy to the common good which they held in view. It is true that at one time their views of the right methods to attain the end were not altogether unanimous. Some of the feudal lords and their retainers fought against other feudal lords and retainers. One side espoused the Imperial cause, and the other opposed, but those who opposed bore no opposition to the Imperial house itself. It was more an opposition to the lords and their clansmen who stood on the other side. You know that, after the submission of the Shogun himself to the emperor, the great majority of the feudal lords in the north and the east of Japan effected a combination among themselves and opposed the troops on the Imperial side. What I said just now was chiefly in reference to that occurrence. The nature of our civil war being such, it was not a matter of surprise that the country should be reconciled and conciliated under the new régime. I may here mention an instance, trifling as it is, to show how it has operated even in ordinary social matters. Marshal Oyama, who is now commanding our armies in Manchuria, is a Satsuma man, and he fought as a young officer of the Imperialists in the east. His wife is a daughter of a Samurai of an eastern feudal lord, one of the staunchest opponents to the Imperial troops, I mean the Lord of Aizu, whose castle was besieged and taken after a long resistance. A sister of Madame Oyama is a lady in our Imperial courts, and her brother, who had been a leader of the troops of his clan, was afterwards a general of the Imperial army, and died in that capacity recently. We have a nobility of five grades, almost identical with the European system. The origin of our noble families is various, but their broad distinctions are: Noblemen who were formerly feudal lords; noblemen who were formerly court nobles attacheddirect to the Imperial courts before the Restoration, and those who have been newly made nobles by virtue of their meritorious services rendered to the new Government. But in the eyes of the law, or rather in the treatment of them by the Imperial court, there is no difference, nor is there any confliction of interest or sentiment existing between them. Napoleon was a great ruler, there is no doubt, but his one misfortune was that the very nature of his origin was not sufficiently potent to reconcile and harmonise all the difference of this kind in which sentiments go a long way. Supposing he had been a direct scion of the Bourbons, and supposing the general condition of the French people of those days had not been such as it was, and supposing that the great Revolution had been effected by the movements of the aristocracy itself with Napoleon at its head, the course of the history of France might have been very different, although, in spite of that, France has always been a remarkable nation.'
The marchioness seems to have noticed that our conversation was becoming animated and stepped towards us, evidently to take part in it. At this juncture, an elderly gentleman and his wife were ushered into the room. They were duly introduced to us. He was an astronomer. He said that he and his wife had been in Japan years ago when a transit of Venus across the sun was taking place. But their observation of the transit was a failure owing to bad weather. They stayed eight years, and waited for another transit, but again he was disappointed; because a sudden change in the weather obscured the heavens.
—'That must have been a great disappointment,' I said. 'As to myself, I have seen one such transit very well at a temporary observatory erected at Yokohama. It was very interesting to me, unscientific as I am, to see the sun reflected in white on the prepared ground,and the planet, a small black spot, traversing slowly across the white surface. Of course, one could also see the actual sun and planet through a smoked glass. The transit I refer to might have been a different one, or else the locality where I saw it from was not the same. I will tell you a stupid experience of mine,' said I, turning to others present. 'There was a total eclipse of the sun, some eighteen years ago. I was on a trip, and had to cross over a high mountain pass. I, and a few companions, thought it would be great fun to see an eclipse from the summit of the mountain and observe all the changing phenomena of nature from there. So we hurried on our way, but by the time we reached the summit the sky was very cloudy, it even showered, and the consequence was that we did not see much and regretted that we had not stayed a little longer on the lower grounds, from where the people saw the eclipse very well. Fancy the height of a mountain,—however high it may be, it is only an infinitesimal part of the distance between the earth and the sun. To think that we would be nearer to the sun if we climbed to the summit of the mountain was an act of great stupidity; but such things often occur in actual life. We often forget to think about the relative situation between ourselves and others, and make our calculations according to fancy. Thus great errors are often committed. Such is the case when we play at games, say at chess. We make our moves, thinking that our opponent would make his move just as we ourselves would do, but the probability is that he makes a move totally different to our anticipation, much to our chagrin and surprise. All this arises from our negligence of making a proper estimate of the relative position occupied by both sides.'
—'You seem to have some special reference in what you say,' said the marchioness. 'By the bye, Madame P. says she likes Japan very much.'
—'Yes, I do,' said the professor's wife. 'I can never forget it. Miyanoshita, Nikko, Chiuzenzi, and above all, the scenery of the inland sea, are superb.'
—'Yes, those are the places which foreign travellers are fond of and talk about the most. The accommodation of the warm spring of Miyanoshita and the sights of the artistic buildings of the Nikko temples seem to be thought much of. Chiuzenzi, with its calm, mirror-like lake, is certainly an excellent summer resort,—no wonder most of the corps diplomatic in Japan betake themselves thereto every summer. But from our own point of view the Nikko temples are new and consequently the arts displayed there are only of modern type, elaborate but not deep. They are not quite three hundred years old. In fact,—Tokio itself is only a new town, being scarcely three hundred years old. One must go to Kioto and Nara if one wishes to see the real classical Japan. Those are places where there are so many spots of historical and artistic interest, not only in the towns themselves, but also in the surrounding localities.'
—'Yes, my husband and I had opportunities of visiting those places, and we made very pleasant and interesting trips.'
—'But how is it that Tokio is such an important town in these days, as I understand?' asked the marchioness.
—'I will explain,' said I. 'Tokio is situated on both banks of the mouth of a river called Sumida, about the same size as the Seine, running through the middle of a large flat land and flowing into the bay of Tokio. That flat land was formerly called "Musashi-no," that is to say, plain of "Musashi,"—from the fact that the greater parts of it belong to the province of Musashi (we call it a large plain because Japan is so mountainous and flat plains are so rare). It is the plain which was sung ofby a poet as one where the moon rises and sinks from grass to grass, there being no mountain for her to seek shelter. When Tokugawa, that is to say, the family of the last Shogunate, became a powerful feudal lord about three hundred years ago, it made the site of the present Tokio its seat and built its castle on the spot where a small old castle had stood some time before. Towns had arisen around the castle, which came to be known as Yedo until it was changed into Tokio thirty-eight years ago. The town, and, indeed, the castle itself, had been gradually enlarged from time to time. It is well known that, not long after Yedo was made the seat of Tokugawa, the house of Tokugawa became the Shogunate, that is to say, the military and administrative government of the empire which used to be called by foreigners the temporary chief of Japan. For nearly three hundred years the Shogunate exercised great power. All the feudal lords were obliged to reside in Yedo every other year. Their families, I mean wives and children, had to live permanently in their mansions at Yedo all the year round as a kind of hostage. Great lords usually had three mansions, the upper, the middle, and the lower ones as they were called; even small lords had two. It was almost necessary for them to have several mansions because Yedo was so famous for fire—fire was called the flowers of Yedo—and they had to move their residence from one to the other in case of fire. Of course, the magnitude of these mansions differed according to the rank and position of the owners, but were mostly very large, and a large number of retainers also resided in surrounding buildings, though the exact number of the retainers also varied according to the ranks of the lords. You may well imagine how expensive such establishments must have been. Hence also the flourishing condition of the town itself, and thus Yedo had become the largest town of the Empire.When the Shogunate came to an end, the emperor removed his residence to Yedo and re-named it Tokio, that is to say, the eastern capital in contrast to Kioto, which is also known as Saikio,i.e.the western capital. It was a masterstroke of the bold policy of the new Government. The removal went a long way in facilitating the renovation of Japan, for it helped the getting rid of old notions and introducing new ideas. Besides, by assuming a commanding position over the whole country, and having been thus made the new Imperial capital, Tokio continues to maintain, even advances in, its prosperity.Voila!the answer to your question.'
—'I suppose Tokio is much changed, as people say?' asked the marchioness.
—'Yes, it is so,' I answered. 'One can no longer see the Tokio of thirty years ago. The residences of the feudal lords in former days were very grand, especially the parts just beyond the inner moats surrounding the castle, where stood the residential mansions of great lords, called Daimio-Koji,i.e.broad way of the Grand Seigneurs. The premises of these mansions generally formed a square, the main building stood in the middle, the four sides of the square were generally occupied by long lines of buildings in which the retainers lived. There were several gateways, the main entrance, of course, being the largest. Some great lords spent a good deal more money than necessary in making their mansions appear grand in order to efface any suspicion of their unfaithfulness to the Shogunate—in other words, they showed by so doing that they had no idea of accumulating wealth for secret designs. I well remember those buildings, but nothing is left of them now. The very centre of the place where those houses stood is now a park. The gates, which were constructed of wood, were very elaborate and imposing. There are only three or four of them left in Tokio, but not ontheir old sites. They are but reminiscences of old ones, and reconstructed elsewhere by private persons as curiosities. The streets where the great lords once marched in grand state are now crossed in all directions by electric tramways. But we are not sorry for all that.'
—'People say there will soon be no more old Japan to be seen in Japan,' said Lady Dulciana, 'unless one visits her without delay.'
—'That is not likely,' I said. 'A nation cannot completely metamorphosise itself at a moment's notice. Despite all those changes, Japan is still Japan, especially in the interior. The old Japan will not disappear during the lifetime of either you or me. However, we have a saying, "For good things let us hurry." If you have any idea of going to see Japan, which I consider a good thing, hurry by all means.'
—'I suppose the style of residence in Japan differed, and still differs, from ours?' asked the duchess.
—'Yes, very much; and not only the grand residences, but also the houses of all classes. If you allow me to be candid, I will tell you a conversation I had with a Frenchman a little time ago on the very subject. He asked me what I thought of the appearance of Paris, and if I did not think the rows of grand, lofty houses which form the avenues and streets magnificent. "They are magnificent for sights," I answered. The last part of my remark made him a little suspicious, and he pressed me to explain my meaning, and I did so. Can you guess my answer?'
—'No, I cannot.'
—'My answer was to the following effect. You see, here in Paris, people who dwell in a building generally occupy only one part of it. They share a house and live in different flats and corners of the same building; and yet the people, who meet every day at their very door, do not know each other. Their rooms aregenerally dark, because the buildings overshadow each other. They cannot move out of their rooms without putting on hat and jacket, and generally have no spare ground attached to the house where they can rest or promenade. They seldom see the moon or the beautiful morning and evening sun, being buried in deep valleys of houses. For practical purposes, therefore, my preference is for the style of my country—I mean houses detached, though not grand and lofty, so that one can use every part of the building, from the basement to the roof, with some ground, around the building, be it large or small, tastefully laid out into a garden. I say, therefore, people who live in magnificent, high buildings may not necessarily be happier than those who live in smaller and humbler dwellings. This is what I said to that French friend of mine. Please excuse my making such remarks: I have no thought of running down your style of living, but have only been tempted to say what little good I can of my country.'
—'When spaces are available,' said Baron C, 'we also attach gardens to our houses.Apropos, you were at the matinée dance at the Palais Elysée, were you not?'
—'Yes, I had the pleasure of being invited by Monsieur le President and Madame Loubet.'
—'The trees there are fine, are they not?' said Baron C.
—'Yes, they are very fine, and the gathering was fine also. An incident which I experienced there was rather unique. I was walking with Madame Matoni in the crowd. We encountered two gentlemen clad in fashionable attire. Somehow or other, Madame Matoni began conversing with one of them. At the same time I heard a female voice echoing in my ears—I could not imagine where it came from, except from the gentleman with whom madame was talking. I thought it veryqueer, but presently I was introduced to them: they were announced as Monsieur and Madame Ecrivan. Then it occurred to me that the person whom I thought a gentleman was in reality a lady of whom I had heard something before. She was an author attired like a man.'
—'Yes, she is an author, and a clever one too,' said the duchess. 'But what did you think of the whole reception?'
—'Simplicity was, I thought, its features as compared with similar occasions in monarchical countries, but it was in unison with the constitution of the country. Then, too, although somehow or other I missed entering into the dancing pavilion, I understood the matinée dance there was customarily given chiefly for the entertainment of the orphan daughters of army and naval officers. The idea is pleasant.'
—'And what of the President?' inquired one young lady.
—'A fine old gentleman, I thought, and kind-hearted too. I was specially introduced to him, in the garden, after the formal reception. He repeatedly pressed me to put my hat on while talking with him, because the sun's rays glanced on my head through the foliage.'
—'You met with many fashionable belles there, too, I suppose,' remarked another.
—'There were Madame Riviera, who is so very vivacious, and several other ladies; I mean the wives of cabinet ministers and other high personages. But on the whole, I did not think the gathering was particularly unique for Paris, with regard to beauty.'
—'By the bye, have you ever seen Mr. Roosevelt?' asked the duchess.
—'Yes, I have. He impresses one at first sight with his enormous energy and intellectual power. He likes Japan. He was taking lessons in jiujitsu under aJapanese master when I was at Washington early last year. He told me he had been practising it three times a week.'
—'Yes,' said the duchess, 'I understand jiujitsu is much in vogue in England and America just at present.'
—'It seems so. In New York and Washington some ladies are also taking lessons, I am told; so also in England, as you know.'
—'But I suppose even in Japan it is only studied something like fencing is in our fencing schools, not as a part of the universal education.'
—'Just so,' I answered. 'It does not form a part of the general education, though it is very extensively studied in the higher colleges and schools.'
—'It looks certainly like an art worth paying attention to,' said the duchess.
—'Here, too, some time ago,' said Baron C., 'a Japanese jiujitsu master once came to Paris and gave an exhibition at a theatre, challenging, with the offer of a prize, any Frenchman who would combat with him. No Frenchman won. They were beaten one after the other. The people did not like so much humiliation, and the audience decreased, so the master had to go back to London; such is the Frenchman.'
—'Well,' said I, 'it might have been only a momentary caprice, perhaps because Japan is not your ally, but the audience could not have been diminished for such a cause as you say. There can be no notion of humiliation, because it is a question of art. However, if the Occidentals, with their natural strength and physique, become well equipped with that art, we the small Japs shall never be a match for them; so I would rather wish you Occidentals do not learn the art.'
All present broke into laughter, and in a minute or two I was once more wafted through the air and making my way elsewhere.
Japanese art and the West—Night-fêtes—Sale of flowers and plants—Singing Insects—A discussion on the moon, flowers, snow, etc.—Music of snow and rain—Lines on hailstones—A particular evening for lunar perspective—A blind scholar and his wife—The deaf, dumb, and blind of Japan—The calendar and its radical change in Japan—Calumnies on Japan, and an anonymous letter—Japanese ways of counting ages—The question of women and a lady's opinion on Japanese women—Lafcadio Hearn—Japanese names—Difficulty of distinguishing between 'L' and 'R'—Discussion on pronunciation—London and Tokio patois—Japanese nobility and the method of addressing nobility—Books on Japan—Once more on Lafcadio Hearn—Discussion on women's education—The Risen Sun
Japanese art and the West—Night-fêtes—Sale of flowers and plants—Singing Insects—A discussion on the moon, flowers, snow, etc.—Music of snow and rain—Lines on hailstones—A particular evening for lunar perspective—A blind scholar and his wife—The deaf, dumb, and blind of Japan—The calendar and its radical change in Japan—Calumnies on Japan, and an anonymous letter—Japanese ways of counting ages—The question of women and a lady's opinion on Japanese women—Lafcadio Hearn—Japanese names—Difficulty of distinguishing between 'L' and 'R'—Discussion on pronunciation—London and Tokio patois—Japanese nobility and the method of addressing nobility—Books on Japan—Once more on Lafcadio Hearn—Discussion on women's education—The Risen Sun
Time and space in dreamland have become more inconsecutive, and events have crowded rapidly one on another. In dreamland, moreover, one frequently sees in an incongruous group people who in ordinary life seldom come into contact with one another. Such is my experience.
Now I found myself guest at a reception given by a lady whose residence was in the neighbourhood of the Grand Opera, where I met a number of authors and critics of both sexes. Then at our Legation, near the l'Arc de Triomphe, where I was spending the evening in a large company, which included several ladies of my own country. Again at the soirée of an association interested in things Japanese, where also were members of both sexes, and then, hey presto! all these events and places would transform themselves into one single scene, as though they had been but one and the same gathering.
I remember well that at the meeting of the associationa special toast was proposed after dinner by the president in my honour, to which I responded, saying how much I thanked its members for their sympathy for Japan. The little which Japan had been made known to France, or perhaps to Europe, was largely due to the appreciation of the Japanese arts by those present, and some others who had preceded them, such as MM. Bing and Guimet. I also said that a nation having an art such as ours, though perhaps not equal to the best arts of Europe, could not be so savage and wild as many calumniators represent, and further, that I wished Frenchmen, and indeed Europeans generally, would study and examine Japan a little more, and cast away their prejudices. I also remarkeden passantthat the oriental section of the Louvre was anything but strong in Japaneseobjets d'art, Japanese painting was scarcely represented at all. Other conversations that I had were an agglomeration, so that I cannot remember where and with whom they were held.
—'By the bye, have you seen the fêtes of Neuilly?' asked a lady.
—'Yes, I have seen them,' I answered; 'but the place was so crowded, I could scarcely stand. It was interesting to watch the common people enjoy themselves. One thing which struck me most in the fête was that there were so manyménage aux chevaux(roundabouts) without any horses at all. All the objects on which people were riding were other animals—even pigs, the dirtiest animal on earth.'
—'But pigs are considered objects of luck.'
—'Ah! that's an ideal notion of the civilised people, I presume.'
—'Have you any similar fêtes in your country?'
—'Yes, we have. In Tokio, especially, we have fêtes very similar almost all the year round, though not on so large a scale as your night-fêtes of Neuilly. In Tokiothere are one or two fêtes in the same night in some quarters of the town. There are many small shrines in different parts of Tokio, and the fêtes are nominally in their honour. I say nominally, because most people who go there, go to see the sights or the pretty things rather than to do homage to the shrines. Each of these shrines has a certain day which is kept in its honour. In our fêtes the things most sold are small plants and flowers with their roots, so that they may be planted as they are! They are taken to the fêtes by gardeners living in the suburbs, who make this kind of business their regular occupation, and therefore the occasion is more properly considered as the gardeners' evening. Sweets, toys, and small light objects for domestic use are sold, and there are different kinds of entertainments as well. The nature of your evening fêtes seems very different. In fact, I have not seen any plants or flowers sold there.'
—'The difference seems remarkable; but what do you do with those plants and flowers?'
—'There is a difference between our common people and yours. You see the bulk of those who frequent the fête in Tokio are ordinary townspeople. They buy the plants or flowers for a small sum of money; when first offered for sale a high price is asked, but it is quite an understood thing to bargain and at last to buy at a very low price. The more advanced the evening, the cheaper one can get them. The bargaining at these fêtes is so lively that it has become proverbial, and people often say, this or that is not like buying night-fête plants. It is, however, a mistake if one were to suppose bargaining is a common thing at every shop in Japan, as in Italy or Egypt. Well, these people, however moderate their means, purchase one or other of the plants or flowers and take them home, and plant them either in their small gardens or in pots and vessels, and place them intheir rooms. Some plants or flowers are already planted in a tasteful manner in pots or vessels of different shapes, so that they may be used as they are. The people are very happy with these objects. In summer and autumn all sorts of singing insects[1]are sold in pretty little cages. In the Orient, unlike in the Occident, the term insect itself is very poetic, and conveys more of the significance of the singing than of the object itself.'
—'I have always heard that your people in general are very artistic,' said she. 'I should like to follow their sentiments in regard to nature. For instance, when we look at the moon we sometimes become very sentimental.'
—'You mean in such cases as the night-scene where sweet Jessica and her lover Lorenzo sang "In such a night, in such a night as this."'
—'Exactly.'
—'Well, in that respect,' I answered, 'we are perhaps more developed than other peoples. Even the etymology of our language proves it. We have such terms as Hanami, that is a flower-seeing; Tsukimi, that is moon-seeing; and Yukimi, that is, snow-seeing. You have phrases such as "to see the flowers," "to see the moon," and "to see the snow," but these are hardly an equivalent. Our phrases imply a deeper feeling, both poetical and artistic; may even imply an act of seeing those objects in the company of congenial friends. The snow is, as I indicated, one of these sights.Aproposof snow, I went to Richmond once in company with a few compatriots, to see the snow-scene in the park there, whence one commands a beautiful view of the river Thames. Many years afterwards I was asked if we had snow in my country (you know this kind of question is asked ofus very often). I answered "Yes." Thereupon a lady, who happened to remember that I had gone to Richmond to see the snow there years ago, abruptly remarked, "Oh! I thought you had no snow in your country." When I replied, "What makes you think so," she said, "Because you went to Richmond on purpose to see the snow." I had then to explain that our excursion to Richmond was not because we did not know what snow was, but because we liked to see the sight. We do not get tired of seeing such scenes any more than you Europeans get tired of going to the opera, to see, or rather to hear the same opera over and over again, as for instanceFaust.'
—'But at the opera we can satisfy our sense of sight as well as that of hearing,' said a young lady, 'but what of the snow! It has no colour, being white,—it has no sound: besides, the season must be cold and the very sight of it must be chilling.'
—'You are partly right, I admit, but is not white the very ideal of purity? Are you not very fond of it? Do not you ladies like wearing pure white dresses? Are you not wearing one at this very moment? We Japanese are very fond of white. The ideal colour of Shintoism is white. According to that creed, even for mourning, white is preferred to black. It suggests a notion of cleanliness, which is the essence of the creed. Besides, you cannot surely say opera boxes are ideally comfortable. They are not cold, it is true, but certainly they are generally stifling. One sees there scenery, but what is it compared with the grandeur of nature. Then again, you cannot exactly say snow has no sound. We, in our poetry, speak of the music of falling snow, or the music of dropping rain. Those sounds are considered especially musical in the depth of night: we even poetise the sounds of falling hailstones. There is a well-known poem on a hailstorm composed some seven centuriesago. It is a short poem, as ours usually are, but to us it gives a deep impression, and animates a martial spirit. It is difficult to translate, but it runs somewhat like this:
"Oh see in this wilderness of vast NasuHow the hailstones dash on the frozen ground!And ring on the gauntlets of hunters boldAs they draw their arrows from leathern fold!"
—'Many hundred years after this poem was composed, when our country was enjoying a perfect peace, a well-known statesman, reflecting on that poem, gave his own bent of thought, as follows:
"Not knowing the age when hailstones rangOn the gauntlets of warriors' hands;Warmly enveloped I lay me down,Listening all night to their dropping sound."
—'Aproposof hailstones, what a strange occurrence it was the other day, when hailstones ravaged the vicinity of Paris, and that too in the height of summer. I met a compatriot and his wife, now staying near St. Germain, at a small gathering on the evening of the same day, and they described the size of the stones and the damage done to the glass of the different houses. At first no one present believed them, but my friends did their best to explain that some of the stones they picked up and put on a tray were still large when they had left their home several hours afterwards. What they said was perfectly true, for I read in the papers next morning that in some places the hailstones were like eggs and weighed on an average from twenty to forty grammes; some even two hundred grammes. But ah! how silly I am to tell you all this, as you must all be well aware of it.'
—'Never mind,' said those present, 'but please proceed with your discourse.'
—'Well, there is a particular night of the year which is considered the best for the moon-scene; the 15th of August by the Lunar Calendar. The people generally get up a small social gathering to celebrate that evening. It was on one of those occasions that Hanawa, the celebrated blind scholar of Japan, gently sang as he sighed:
"If it were a flower, I might touch it."
'The line does not sound very sympathetic when translated into a foreign language, but in the original Japanese it is full of poetry, and the meaning is understood that he could not even console himself by the sense of touch. The remark was overheard by his wife, who pathetically joined him by singing:
"This Moon! 'tis the night that makes blind men's wives weep."
—'Very fine and pathetic; but you said just now "celebrated blind scholar,"' remarked a lady. 'What do you mean by that? Do you mean to say he was a blind poet like Homer?'
—'No, he was not exactly a poet, but a great scholar. In England there was a celebrated blind scholar, Fawcett, and Hanawa was our Fawcett. He was a Professor under the Shogunate Government, and one of the best and largest collections of rare old Japanese books made by him was his crowning achievement, and we are all much indebted to him.'
—'I suppose there are as many blind, deaf, and dumb in your country as in any other?' asked another; 'and what do they do, or rather, what do you do with them?'
—'There are some deaf, dumb, and blind schools at present, and those, among them, who are fortunate, are educated there as in Europe. There was no suchschool in former days, but much care was taken of the blind, even more than at present.'
—'In what way?' asked she.
—'In former days the blind had several privileges. In the first place, there was a special order consisting of several degrees, which was bestowed on meritorious blind people; next, there was a law which protected blind men when lending money, so that they had great facility in getting their dues paid, inasmuch as a lay debtor was summarily ordered to pay any claim raised by a blind man. Then the musical profession was generally assigned to them, thus, the professors of the Koto, a stringed instrument, were generally blind men, and they had the privilege of giving out diplomas to their pupils. In the country parts, blind men were allowed to make a round of visits to the different houses of the gentry, singing a particular kind of war-song, called "Heike," to the accompaniment of the Biwa, another kind of stringed instrument. Then again, the Amma, the Japanese "massage" was mostly the profession of blind men.'
'You say "blind men," but what of blind women?' asked another.
—'Ah! I was wrong, for I have only spoken of blind men, but blind women were accounted much the same. But that Japanese Amma, I can never forget it, especially after hard work when one's muscles have become stiffened. It is such a soothing remedy. In Europe massage is used only for people who have some ailment, but in Japan ordinary people very commonly make use of it, and consequently a large number of blind people follow that occupation. The protection of the blind under the old régime was, of course, good in its aim, but it produced some abuse, and, besides, the great change of all methods of administration also affected the privileges given them. There is no longer any orderbestowed on them, nor any special protection given to blind money-lenders, but in other respects their occupations remain pretty much the same.'
—'You have just spoken of lunar months of August,' said another: 'here in Paris the Russian Embassy and the Chinese Legation celebrate their New Year each differently from ours. Russia still sticks to the old style of calendar though solar; and China seems to hold to the lunar. How is it with you? Your calendar does not seem to differ from ours.'
—'Yes, our calendar at present is exactly the same as yours,' I answered. 'It used to be lunar, as is the Chinese, but it is now thirty-four years since we adopted the solar by a stroke of the pen, that is to say, by an edict of the Emperor. We thought in this world of cosmopolitanism that it was rather inconvenient for the different nations to have different calendars, and that it would be expedient to follow the example of the majority of the nations. We considered it a bold stroke of policy, but you see all such changes are made subjects of ridicule, and the Japanese are called mere imitators.'