IV

—'Oh no, you go too far,' said another. 'No one ridicules Japan for that kind of change. It was excellent.'

—'And yet,' said I, 'all other changes are exactly the same in our eyes as that one.'

—'People are now beginning to understand Japan,' said she.

—'May be,' I said. 'I am very glad of it, but, you see, our calumniators even now make very unjust accusations against us, and still speak of us as monkeys. Since my arrival in Europe, not only have I noticed that these things have been written in newspapers, but I have myself received many letters of that kind. I cannot think what good they can do by sending me such letters and wasting stamps. I suppose they arebut an infinitesimal part of the money spent for such purposes by our opponents. This very day, when I was coming out of the hotel, I received one of those letters: the postmark is Paris. I read it through on the way, and I have it still here. It is this: you may read it.'

So saying, I handed the letter to the lady, and she read it out as follows:

'MON CHER SINGE JAUNE,—Vous singes jaunes, voulez avoir beaucoup de pièces jaunes—travaillez—vous les aurez; mais avec votre tuerie—vous n'arriverez pas à les avoir—je vous assure. Fichez le camp—allez habiter aux Philipines. L'Europe et l'Amérique sont fermées aux singes jaunes sauvages. Vous martirisez chez vous les femmes! Votre meilleur homme Yoma (sic)—en a tué plusieurs. Vous êtes singes jaunes très méprisables—oh, bientôt l'or aura raison de vos hordes ... Souvenez-vous de mes singes. Singes jaunes sauvages dégoutants.MISS NELLY.'Qui ne vous aime pas: oh du tout....'

MISS NELLY.'Qui ne vous aime pas: oh du tout....'

Finishing the reading, the lady exclaimed, 'What a shame!' in which all those listening joined.

Said I,—'The letter evidently refers to the question of indemnity. You see, it is written on a telegraph-form, and the article and the song, both equally disgusting, pasted purposely for me to read, are cuttings from Russophile papers: you can pretty well surmise from what source it came; the signature is also amusing!'

—'Shame!' they all exclaimed once more, but we all soon burst into laughter. When the laughter, whereby the peace of my dreamland had been a trifle disturbed, subsided, a lady present said:

—'You have a peculiar way of counting one's age, have you not? Has that anything to do with the calendar? Don't you say, for instance, a baby born the year before the last, three years old?'

—'Yes,' I answered, 'we still do so in ordinary conversation. But it has nothing to do with the calendar; it is only a matter of usage. You see the year in which one is born is counted as one year, and the year in which one is counting is counted as another, and therefore, a child born the year before last is reckoned as three years old. In the case of a dead person, the year in which he died is counted as one year; therefore, when you read of the age of our heroes or statesmen in history, you have always to take that into account. In former days, young ladies born late in the year used to complain to their mothers that they had a disadvantage in point of age. Young ladies like to minimise their age all over the world. Don't they?'

—'No joking, please.'

—'Very well! since the alteration of the calendar we have adopted your mode of reckoning for legal purposes, and we say in that case, "full so many years." It is therefore rather strange in actual society to hear people often speaking of so many years of age according to the new style, and so many years according to the old style.'

—'It must sound very odd.Aproposof ladies, I adore Japanese ladies,' said a lady.

—'Ah! that's too much: surely you do not think so,' I remarked.

The lady just referred to was an American by birth, who came to France when a mere child, and having grown up in this country had married a Frenchman. The couple were out in Japan for many years. They had several children, the majority of whom were born there. She had resided in one of the most populous towns, her husband having been attached to a certain public function. She seemed not entirely to approve of the social condition of France.

—'France will be ruined by her women. Look, for instance, at the condition of Paris,' she said.

—'You jest. I imagine your ideal of women must be very different from ours,' I said.

—'No! Not at all,' she answered.

—'And yet,' said I, 'the question of the status of women is becoming more keen, far more keen in America than in this country. I have observed it in many writings.'

—'That's true, I dare say,' she said.

—'A little time ago,' I continued, 'I read an article describing the influence of American wives and daughters over their husbands and parents. I remember one instance mentioned in that article. The daughter of a well-to-do business man took a fancy to live in a town where she had been on a visit for a little time. She prevailed on her father to remove their home to that town. He did so, and the result was his total ruin in consequence of losing old customers and not obtaining new. The story may be a little exaggerated.'

—'No, it is quite possible,' she said. 'I like Japanese ladies and their children. The Japanese ladies I met with were so sweet and gentle and real models of women. I came to know them very intimately in this way. You see, in the town where I lived there is an association for the promotion of the mutual interests of France and Japan, the members being mostly Frenchmen. No lady was admitted into membership at first. I insisted on having it done. I was the first lady member. I induced many Japanese ladies to become members. The views I held were that mutual understanding could only be promoted by both sexes associating with each other. We found the innovation work very satisfactory. I often invited Japanese ladies to my home to spend an afternoon or evening. I usually caused them to bring their children, and made them play with mine. I did all this with as little ceremony as possible, because only by doing so can real friendship bebrought about. I, of course, returned the visits and took my children with me. During that intercourse I naturally came to know a great deal about the Japanese ladies, and for that reason I think so much of them. They are real ideals of women. Perhaps a little more freedom for them might be good, but on the whole nothing more could be desired. Don't let them get spoilt by the evil influence of the West.'

—'I think I must reserve my remarks, either pro or con,' I said, 'but it is curious to notice what divergence of opinion there is relating to the condition of Japanese women. Perusing casually a book by Lafcadio Hearn a little time ago, I came across a passage where he speaks of Japanese women as being the most artistic objects, as it were, of the most artistic nation of the world, and laments that this perfection will be deteriorated by the influence of time. There is a lady of good birth in London whom I know very well, who admires Japanese ladies very much, though I am not quite sure that she herself would like to live like a Japanese lady. She told me that when the time came for her two boys to marry she would send them to Japan in order to be married out there. Her words may not have been mere passing compliments, for she has contributed to a monthly an article under the title of the "True Chrysanthemum," which pays a very high tribute to the Japanese women. On the other hand, however, few Occidentals know what the Japanese women are, and writers are not wanting who cast upon them sweeping condemnation. They even say that Japanese women know not what is chastity, and even that no such word exists in the Jananese language.'

—'What nonsense!'

—'Excuse me for pushing my remarks to such a point as this,' I continued, 'but you see I am so blunt inexpression, and I cannot make my meaning plain unless I use such cut-and-dry phrases. In my own opinion, without any partiality for my own country, I think I can confidently say that chastity is far more practised in Japan than in any other nation.'

—'Hearn's books, which you have just mentioned, are charming,' said another lady. 'I have read some of them. They go, I think, a long way in contradicting those unfair charges.'

—'Yes, I think so too,' said I. 'But, you know, one tongue is nothing against a hundred, as we say. However that may be, he was a fine writer. It is sad that he died last year. He made, as he said, the study of the Japanese heart and thought his special subject. All his books, therefore, are concerned with some sort of Japanese psychology. They are generally so full of pathos and feeling that even Japanese readers are often moved to tears.'

—'Then you have read all his books. I should like you to give me the outline of them at your leisure,' she said.

—'I don't think that would be possible, because I don't know them all.'

—'But you have just now said "all his books," as though you knew all,' she said.

—'No!' I answered, 'I have not readall. I have seen most of the titles, and some pages here and there, and guessed all the rest. You see, nowadays, printing is comparatively so cheap and people are so fond of writing, and further, nine-tenths of the writers have their books printed at their own expense, so that the publishers run no, risk. If, therefore, one tries to read all books, one would become a mere bookworm and a good-for-nothing fellow. Once a compatriot of mine, when in Germany, was admitted into the study of a great professor. The four walls were covered withnothing but shelves of books. The professor said that all those books were sent to him by writers of all nations who were engaged in the same pursuits as himself. As a matter of fact he was a jurist, and all those books were on law. The visitor asked if he had read all of them, to which the professor answered "Yes." Thereupon he observed, "Impossible, you could not have had time to read them all." The professor then explained that the essential points of any book were all known to experts, so that a few pages on those points, which could easily be found by index, were sufficient to know all that was contained in a book. In that way, he said, "he read all the books which had come to him."'

—'What a joke!' said the lady. 'But what kind of man was he? I mean Mr. Hearn. His life seems to have been much in the clouds.'

—'So far as I am aware of,' said I, 'he was born in Lafcadi, one of the Ionian Islands, when it was under English occupation, having an Irish father, I believe, and a Greek mother. He passed his early years in England until he became a youth, when he went to America, where he remained until after the prime of life. He then went to Japan, and in course of time married a Japanese lady and became a naturalised subject there. So he was a regular cosmopolitan. He always occupied some position as teacher, and was much liked by his numerous pupils. His Japanese name was Koizumi Yakumo. Technically speaking, he caused himself to be adopted by the family of his wife, and so took their family name "Koizumi" for his surname, and Yakumo for his personal name, or, as you call it, Christian name.'

—'What you have just said somewhat strikes me,' remarked the lady. 'You have put the Christian name after the surname.'

—'Ah!' said I, that's a reasonable question. Perhaps you don't know that in Japan we put our family name first. That is to say Gambetta Léon instead of Léon Gambetta, if he were a Japanese. It is so with the Chinese; it is also so with the Hungarians. It is one of the proofs which the Hungarians produce as being descendants of the same stock as the Orientals. When, however, we are in Europe, or write with European letters, we generally reverse the order and make it agree with the European method. Well, unless we do that, we are liable to be called wrongly by having our names reversed, in such a fashio as Monsieur Léon, or Monsieur G. Léon, instead of Monsieur Gambetta, or Monsieur L. Gambetta. Such absurdities often occur in reality, and it is very inconvenient.

—'I see: that accounts for many discrepancies which exist in writing som well-known Japanese names, as I occasionally notice in books or papers written in a foreign language; but it is no use to refer to the Japanese by name, their names are too difficult for us to remember—it took me weeks to remember your name correctly.'

—'Just so,' I answered, 'It is equally difficult for us to remember European names. It is the reason why I do not recollect many people to whom I am continually introduced; to confess, I do not remember your name correctly. Russian names are particularly difficult to remember, not only to us Orientals, but to Anglo-Saxons, even to you, the French. Do you know that in England Rodjestvensky, before he became famous and well known, was called simply "Roj" very often, and aliens sometimes called him "Rotten-cheese-sky." Poor admiral! Witte is simple enough to remember. We Japanese remember and often write General Kuropatkin as Kurobato, that is to say, "black pigeon."

Of course, association is the best means of remembrance. We remember your words "Salle-à-manger" bySara-mongi, that is, a "plate and written characters," and the English word "Minister" asme-no-shita, that is, "below the eyes." In fact,me-no-shitais used very commonly in corrupt English at the open ports of Japan.Frans-Me-no-shitais "French Minister," andIgiris-Me-no-Shitais "English Minister." A dozen years ago there was in Japan an enterprising man who advertised that he had invented a good system of memory, and even opened a school. It was no other than remembering things by association, and I think there is a good deal in it. A little time ago, as you know, their Highnesses Prince and Princess Arisugawa were on a visit to Europe. Lord Lansdowne had great difficulty in remembering the name. OurMe-no-shitain London asked him if there were not a Princess Alice in England, to which his Lordship replied "Yes." He then asked if there were not a street called "Gower Street," to which his Lordship similarly answered "Yes." Thereupon our minister said: "Very well, Princess Alice and Gower Street, that makes Arisugawa." After that his lordship, the Foreign Secretary of Great Britain, remembered the name of our Prince and Princess very well.'

—'That's all very well,' said she: 'but you mix uprandlaltogether.'

—'That's true,' I answered, 'it is the weakest point for us in speaking European tongues. We cannot, or at least without the greatest difficulty, make any difference in pronouncingrandl. Thus "right" and "light" become alike when we speak. It is very necessary to think of that fact when you talk with a Japanese. All this arises from the fact that in the Chinese and Japanese tongues there are not two different sounds ofrandl; those sounds in Japanese are more likeyourra,ri,ru,re,ro, whilst they arela,li,lu,le,loin Chinese.'

—'I have noticed it very often,' she said, 'even while you talk you do the same. Your allusion to remembering things by association is very true; we do the same very often. But it often produces curious errors.'

—'True,' I said, 'I know a few instances. In Japan there is a kind of cloth, mostly used for négligées, calledYukata, a bath-cloth, so called because it was originally used after the bath. We call the "evening"Yiukata, the only difference being the "u" in one case being pronounced longer than in the other. We call "shower"Yiudachi. A European lady married to a Japanese appears to have tried to remember the bath-cloth by association. She went to a draper's and asked for aYiudachi(shower) in place ofYiukata(evening). No one understood it. She was speaking of "shower" instead of "evening," the result of trying to speak by association. We have two ways of counting, and we call the number "ten" eitherjiuorto. We have a certain kind of boxes which are made to fit one on top of the other, and only the topmost box has a lid. They are calledjiu-bako, which means piling boxes. They are used in households very commonly. The same lady appears to have remembered that name byjiu, that is, ten of the number according to one of two ways, andHako, a box. One day she called her servant to bringto-bakoinstead ofjiu-bako. The servants, of, course, did not understand her. The lady misused the association of counting ten in one way instead of the other.'

—'You said you had no difference betweenrandl, but I suppose you have almost all sounds of our tongue.'

—'No,' I answered, 'we have not. We have, forinstance, no sound offorv. In some parts of the country people pronounceha,hi,he,holikefa,fi,fe,fo, but it is considered bad dialect. The want ofvandfin our letters is a point of great difficulty in transcribing foreign words into our writing, but we employ a new method for doing so. On the other hand, ourhis pronounced very acutely. You say you havehmute andhaspirate, but in practice I never see, or rather hear, any aspiration at all. Hence, Count "Hisamatsu," our actual military attaché, is always called by the French, as he complains, "Isamatsu," which is not his Japanese name at all. This fact reminds me of a similar matter concerning our own Tokio. The genuine Tokio people generally pronounceHiasshi. It is curious, but it is a fact. This often causes comical mistakes to be made by servant-girls who are told by their mistresses to pronounce it correctly, for they often mix up and usehiin place ofshiandvice versa. Mind! Tokio is the capital of Japan, but its language is not the purest of the Japanese language. The same holds good in London. It is rather strange for us to notice that in London thehis so commonly misused. I once went to a master, or rather mistress, as she was a woman, of elocution, or at least she advertised herself as such, and she told me that one must be very careful not to be corrupted by the London patois, and that one must not say "am and hegg" for "ham and egg," but while she was telling me those things she herself was making an awful mangling of theh. No wonder! She was a pure Londoner. I went to her no more.'

—'That's too awful! She could not have been a well-educated woman, or you are telling us an exaggerated story.'

—'Maybe she was not well educated,' said I, 'but my story is a plain, naked fact. It is very difficult, Ithink, to get rid of colloquial corruption when once thoroughly imbued with it, even with all the aids of education. I can relate an incident bearing on the point. There is, in Japan, far away from Tokio, a district where people in common parlance can make no difference betweenshiandsu. Once I went to that district and gave a lecture to a large gathering of students belonging to the higher schools of the district. Seven or eight of the most capable students took down my speech, and a complete draft of it was made by them, the defective parts having been supplied by one from the other. It was published in the local papers. It was most perfect, as though taken by shorthand, except in one respect, and it was thatshiandsuhad been intermingled, as though I had spoken in the local dialect. It seems that not only are they unable to distinguish the difference when they themselves speak, but also when they hear other people speak. It is a great drawback to the development of the district. The local authorities hire teachers from other districts and try to correct this defect, but with little success. The function of our ears is strange. Sounds which are quite distinct to some people are quite indistinct to others. Our music has not so high a variation of tune as the Western music, but it has sufficient variation to please our ears; but the Occidentals compare our music to the beating of a drum by a child—no tune and no variation, the reason being, I think, because our tunes and variations are quite inaudible to the Western ear. From the same point of view, crows or cows, and, indeed, all living animals have their own language, only our ears cannot distinguish the difference of their words one from another.'

—'Another pleasantry, I perceive,' remarked a lady. 'But tell me, baron, how do you pronounce the name of your great statesman, "Ito"? Is it pronounced likea-i-t-o-, that is to say,iin the English way of pronouncing Ireland?'

—'No,' I said, 'likea-i-t-o-withouta, that is to say,iin your own French way of pronouncing Ireland. I will once for all give you a good clue how to pronounce Japanese names, which you must come across very often nowadays in the newspapers.Iis pronounced always likeiin yourilor Englishill. OurEis always likeein French "état" or "été."Gis always hard gutteral, that is to say,galikegin "Gambetta,"gelikegein English "get," andgein German, and yourgue.Gilikegiin the English "gift," and yourguiin "Guillaume," and, therefore, you must pronounce General "Nogi" like General "Nogui" in the French way, and not like "Noji" or "Nozi" as you generally do. Ourgois alwaysgo, in English "got," unless theois a long one as in Tôgô, and ourguis always like a simplegin Gladstone and Grant.'

—'But how do you then account foru?' interposed she.

—'Ourupreceded by a consonant,' I answered, 'is generally sounded very, very slightly—almost inaudibly, in fact—so much so that you need take no notice of it. Thereforeku,su,mu, etc., are like simplek,s,m, etc. There is another secret in pronouncing our names, and it is this: when a consonant is followed by a vowel, pronounce it always together with the vowel. Thusyoritomoshould be pronouncedyo-ri-to-mo, and notyor-i-tom-o, and pronounce it without putting any accent: if you follow this rule, you will get nearer to the right pronunciation.'

There was among those present the daughter of Prince Ichijo, naval attaché to the Japanese Legation. She was addressed by a person present as Miss Ichijo. This appears to have struck a lady present, who was at a little distance from her. She said to me:

—'Is not that young lady of very high birth?'

—'Yes, she is. Her parentage is very high, though not of the Imperial blood.'

—'Is she not a daughter of Prince Ichijo?'

—'Yes, she is the daughter by his first wife, who is no more; the present princess is his second wife, also of high birth, being a daughter of one of our former great feudal lords.'

—'How is it, then, that the young lady is addressed as "Miss." If she were a European, she would certainly be addressed as princess, or by some other title?'

—'You are right in thinking so,' I answered; 'but in Japan the titles of nobility are only borne personally by the chief of the family and his wife. All the other members of the family differ in no way from ordinary people, except that they share the membership of the family. In this respect our system totally differs from that of Continental Europe. The English system is like ours as far as law goes, but there also the younger members of noble families enjoy some distinction by courtesy. This is the reason why one hears of a marquis, an earl, or a viscount speaking in the House of Commons as an M.P.'

—'I suppose your system of nobility is pretty much the same as the Western ones in other respects,' said she.

—'Yes, our titles of nobility are divided into five grades, corresponding, for example, to the English duke, marquis, earl, viscount, and baron. The first grade, which corresponds to the English duke, is generally translated as prince; I don't know who began it but it is so. In Germany the highest title of nobility is "Fürst," as you know, and it is translated as "prince" in English or French. I believe the analogy is taken from that fact. It must not, however, be confounded with the princes of Imperial blood, for in Japanese the two titles in question are absolutely distinct, though,translated into the European languages, they sound very much alike.'

—'What books written in English on Japan would you recommend me to read?' asked one lady.

—'I cannot say with much authority, because naturally I have not spent much time over those books, but began it from what I have observed and from what I have heard from other people Lafcadio Hearn's are the best to study the Japanese character, but his books are generally collections of different essays, so that they do not give a panoramic survey of Japan. In that respectAdvance Japan, by J. Morris, is said to be very handy and good. Concerning that book, I may mention a rather commendable incident which took place last year. A Russian lady, a lover of her own country, I presume, lamented the great lack of knowledge of Japan among her country people, which was, as she thought, the cause of the many misfortunes to her country. She wrote to an English friend of hers asking what book written in English on Japan she would recommend her to translate into Russian. The English lady recommended the book just mentioned, and it was translated and published in Russia. I have myself seen the Russian edition of it, neatly printed and beautifully illustrated. The Rev. William E. Griffis, of America, has written several books on Japan. HisMikado's Empiregives a most excellent generalisation of Japanese history. A new book on Japan, entitledImperial Japanby Knox, another American, is very good. I have read it through. The only chapter in it which I think very unfair is one relating to Japanese women. Of course, even in the best books there are some points which are not quite exact, and they contain many amusing mistakes when scrutinised from our point of view.'

—'What is then your opinion about Lafcadio Hearn's books, for instance? I would like to know your opinion,' said another lady.

—'You make me traverse almost the same field over again,' I said.

—'Never mind! The points are different,' she said.

—'Well, I need not speak of his occasional mistranslations of Japanese words or some small technical errors, but I can say that, in my opinion, he sometimes goes a little too far in giving reasons to matters concerning feeling and sentiment. For instance, he raises the question, if a soul be something concrete and suppose it is gone somewhere—heaven or Paradise, as one may term it—how would it be possible to be present simultaneously at the place where it is enshrined, or where offerings are made, and he tries to solve the difficulty philosophically and logically. He seems to place too much stress on our notions of ancestral worship. We practise it, we like it, and we think it fine and noble, and yet we do so from a spirit of feeling and sentiment. Many things in connection therewith are done by us, not always with conclusive, logical reasoning. In this respect many Europeans often misjudge us, forgetting that they themselves do the same at home. They canonise meritorious persons, sometimes only legendary; they have their wayside shrines of Madonna; they celebrate All Souls' Day, when the whole town or village flocks to the cemetery; they set up statues of great men,—a statesman, a warrior, a writer, a philanthropist, a musical composer, a sculptor, a scientist, and what not. They construct a grand pantheon or cathedral and consecrate the remains of their distinguished dead therein. They even erect colossal figures of an ideal personification, such as "Liberty" standing on high at the Place de la République, and other figures representing great cities, as at the Place de la Concorde. They sometimes decorate such figures on certain days with flowers, as is the case with the statue of Beaconsfield, which is covered with primroses on Primrose League Day, nay, sometimes a figure is decorated with wreaths all theyear round, like Strasbourg at the Place de la Concorde. Mind, with regard to this last, I am not speaking of any political aspect of the matter. All this to my mind is very fine in idea. All this, I think, is not done for mere play, nor are those objects set up for mere ornament. The notion contained therein is, I think, intended to perpetuate and sanctify the memory of the person, or of an idea in the minds of the people. If any stranger, for instance, approach any of these objects and insult it in any gross manner, he would be sure to be much hissed, or even punished. From this, it is certain that these matters belong to the sphere of feeling and sentiment and are not exactly within the limits of strict philosophical and logical reasoning. Our ancestral worship and things connected with it are of the same kind. And yet those Occidentals who have themselves very similar things look upon such institutions in Japan with amazement or curiosity, or even with contempt, or else like Lafcadio Hearn, try to reason out some points which are not altogether soluable by ordinary reasoning. A Confucian saying has this: "When you perform a commemoration in honour of your dead parents, do it as though their spirit is present before you." And I think it quite right; it is no honour to the dead if one make an offering and reasons in his mind at the same time that the dead is nothing more than dust, or that its spirit could not be in existence, or at all events, far away from us in an unknown region. When a foreigner sees the shrine erected in Tokio where men, generals and soldiers alike, who died for their country, are consecrated as a sort of deity, he is apt to think it a peculiar custom. But what difference is there between our observance of the illustrious dead and that of burying a distinguished statesman or soldier in the Pantheon or Westminster Abbey? The only difference in all such matters seems to me to amount to this: the feeling and sentiment of the preservation of the memory of thedeserving men is more intent and more general in one case than in the other.'

—'I cannot agree with you altogether in your philosophy,' said a young lady.

—'That may be,' said I. 'You shut your eyes to things near; we have a saying, "A lighthouse does not see its own base." Oh! I beg your pardon. I must not make such remarks; you see, too great a freedom of speech is apt to produce an abuse; nay, that very freedom sometimes even wrecks a grand army on an expedition.'

—'I see. That is the reason why you muzzled all the newspaper correspondents who purposely went out to the Far East, and, by doing so, you have nearly wrecked your own country.'

—'Yes, nearly,' I answered, 'but we happily managed to escape their vindictiveness, and won our battles. No one in the world knew that Togo was quietly waiting with his fleets for the ever-memorable Armada behind the islands of Tsushima, almost on the same spot where the great Mongolian Armada was annihilated some six hundred years ago.'

—'And yet you yourself are rather voluble. You are always talking about something: you talk a good deal more than any ordinary person.'

—'Excuse me,' I retorted, 'I don't think I am voluble at all. By nature I prefer listening to others than talking to them, for in listening to others one can learn something, but nothing when talking to them. I prefer still more to be alone, than either to be listening or talking, for then the waste of time is still less. I only talk when it is absolutely necessary. You know, of course, that from Pythagoras down to Spencer and Huxley, extending, over some four or five thousand years, thousands of philosophers have written books, millions of books, spinning out their thoughts or ratherconjectures, like spiders webs, but the essence of it all is summed up in only these few words, "I don't know."'

—'Ah! I see,' cried she, 'you talk nowadays so much, because you think it necessary for the good of your country. Do you know you are generally called the "Japanese Mentor," or the "Missionary of things Japanese.'"

—'I don't mind by what name they call me. Don't you remember: "That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet."'

—'And yet you must not monopolise the time; I must now have my turn of freedom of speech.'

The lady thus claiming her turn of speech was a lively, vigorous, energetic young lady, capable of talking and writing in several languages, confident of herself and of her sex, as confident as though she were carrying on her shoulders the responsibility of half mankind, that is, the whole of womankind. She takes, of course, great interest in women's education and the promotion of women's rights in all matters. She began by saying, with her face turned towards me:

—'In the letter you have just read—'

—'I did not read it,' I interposed; 'it was that lady.'

—'Well, then,' she said, 'in the letter you have brought in your pocket and have made one of the ladies read to us. In that letter mention is made of Japanese ladies—'

—'Oh, no more of the ladies,' I interrupted; 'I have spoken so much of them, that if I repeat too often, I shall weary my readers ofA Summer Dream.'

—'What!' she said, 'I do not mind if you read or copy theMidsummer Night's Dream, or theWinters Tale, but I must have my turn of speech. In that letter, the writer speaks of the Japanese killing theirmothers, wives, and sisters: by that the writer, no doubt, means the affliction which is put upon them by the death of so many men on the battlefields. But in my opinion, it is not only in Japan that women are killed, but in all countries, in England, in France, in America and everywhere else! Man everywhere despises women's education and deprives women of their lives.'

—'Of course, you take great interest in women's education,' I interposed.

—'Not only,' she continued, 'they despise women's education, but they employ every machination to hinder women from developing brain power, which is their only life.'

—'You are too harsh,' I remarked.

—'No, not at all,' she continued. 'People talk about American girls getting the upper hand of their elders, as though they were not capable of giving advice to their somewhat belated relatives. The younger we are, the older and wiser we deem ourselves: such are the real facts of the world, don't you think so, baron?'

—'Well, not exactly,' I replied.

—'I don't think you take much interest in women's education. You are intelligent, but you are, all the same, a man. You men have all one trait in common, and that is, a desire to exclude women from every sphere of action politically and socially.'

—'No, far from it,' I answered. 'I am a great advocate of the mental and physical development of women. My only desire as man is that the time should soon arrive when we could elect women as deputies to the Chamber; send them to the barracks and ships as soldiers and sailors, and to the field of campaign in time of emergency; select the most beautiful as our ambassadors and ministers to the courts of different countries and win over the hearts of the nation to which they aresent, while all this time we men might stay at home and calmly nurse the babies or indulge in a quiet smoke, of which I am very fond.'

—'Let's have some more serious talk,' remarked another lady. 'You have not yet told us of the foundation of Bushido and its ethics. Let us hear something of that.'

—'It is rather complicated. It will take much time. It won't do for mySummer Dream.'

—'What?' she asked.

—'Nothing. I mean it is too complicated and serious to tell you in this place. On those points, I must refer you to my book entitledThe Risen Sun, published by Archibald Constable, the best publisher in London. It is one of the most important books published in the twentieth century; otherwise Archibald Constable would never have published it.'

—'I see a Japanese gentleman is sometimes capable of indulging in a little bluff.'

—'But the twentieth century has only just begun: besides, this kind of bluff is quite harmless. It is very different from that which some people are fond of indulging in, and, above all, it cannot bring about a national catastrophe.'

—'Enough, we all see what you mean. "Their rising senses," as the poet says, will soon "begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle their clearer reason." Let us go now,' said one of them, and they all dispersed.

Thereupon I also having left the room, sprang into the air, and once more floated away like a sprite, humming as I did so:—

'... I do flyAfter summer, merrily:Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.'

[1]For these 'singing insects,' which are a distinctive feature in the Far East, see Lafcadio Hearn on 'Insect-Musicians' in hisExotics and Retrospectives(1898), pp. 39-80. The practice of caging them dates at least from 1095 A.D. Insects are now bred for this purpose in enormous numbers.

A talk on brackens—Eating of fruits without peeling—A pet tortoise—Remarks on languages—Discourses on jiujitsu—Comparison of jiujitsu and wrestling—Japanese art and the Kokkwa—Pictures in the Gospel—Discourse on Bushido, its history and the origin of the term—Explanation of the terms Daimio, Samurai, and Bushi—Its literature—Japanese revenge and European duel—Japanese sword—Soul of Samurai—General Stoessel and a broken sword—Discussion on Japanese social morality—Japan far cleaner than any other nation—The condition at the time of the transition—General view of the westernised Japan—Occidental vulgarity

I was at the luncheon table of the Duke and Duchess of Fairfield: quiteen famille, there being present only a young nobleman of Italian descent besides the duke and duchess and their two daughters.

In the course of luncheon, casual mention was made by one of the young ladies of the fronds of bracken, calledwarabiin Japan, regarding which I had made some remarks in England as to its edible properties.

—'I have read in some English papers all that you said about it,' said the young nobleman; 'and, indeed, most of the French journals have also reported it since.'

—'Yes, after I had initiated the matter, almost all the English papers, both in town and country, made some comments. I have even read that a philanthropic gentleman had reproduced the necessary information in leaflet form, for distribution amongst the needy people in some parts of Wales, where there is often a scarcity of food. The starch made from the roots of bracken is considered in Japan the best, and is used very widely.There is a similar vegetable calledjemmai; it is larger than bracken and used in a dried form. It is very soft and palatable, and is very extensively used in Japanese cookery. I do not know for certain if the latter kind exists in Europe, though I believe it does. As to bracken, it grows everywhere. I am, however, but little sanguine that my recommendation will be utilised in England, though the method of preparation is very simple. The secret of the preliminary preparation lies in soaking it, from ten to fifteen hours in water with soda. I revealed it from a philanthropic motive. But, you see, the British are so conservative in such matters. I even noticed, in a newspaper, a letter wherein the writer stated that he had cooked some bracken, but it turned out unpalatable, although quite tender. He did not wait to find out if there might not be room for improvement in his method of cooking: people are so apt to discredit others before they make sure of a fact.'

—'That is generally the case in this world,' said the duchess; 'but I wonder if French bracken is equally good.'

—'Surely it is,' I replied, 'even that in the neighbourhood of Paris: the bracken in Fontainebleau forests is said to be very fine. Only in May last, a number of Japanese ladies in Paris made a special excursion there, and brought back bunches of it. I was one of those who enjoyed the dishes resulting.'

—'You may be sure it is a subject that will be taken up, when the semi-famine days come, and then, perhaps, your name will be remembered,' remarked one of the young ladies.

—'No, I think not,' I replied. 'I believe, I shall be buried long before that, and my name too.'

—'Oh, don't say that,' broke in another of the young ladies.

Dessert was now served, in the course of which I remarked:

—'I will tell you an incident which will probably interest you. I was spending a week-end with the Dake and Duchess of Hamilton, who have always been very courteous to me. One morning, at the breakfast table, I noticed the duchess cut an apple, and gave it to her young son without peeling. This rather struck me, so I asked her reason, when she told me that her medical adviser had instructed her to do so, because the essence of the nourishing part of the fruit was contained just under the skin, so that it was better not to remove the skin. It was quite a relief to me (for we men, and especially myself, often find it troublesome to pare fruit). Now I could eat fruit without paring the skin unconcernedly, and should any onlooker laugh at me, or ask the reason, I could lecture him from the point of medical science.'

—'You always view things from a point of vantage,' interposed the younger daughter.

We went into the garden, and took our coffee there in a shaded corner. Meanwhile I noticed a little puppy looking up at us from a corner of the turf. It did not move, and I soon discovered it was porcelain.

—'Ah, I see, I thought it was a live dog when I was here last. It was towards evening, just as I was leaving when I noticed it.'

At this moment a servant brought in a tortoise: it was a very large one and quite tame. The duchess fed it with lettuce, saying:

—'This is my pet, and I am very fond of it. It prefers lettuce to any other vegetable.'

—'I have seen many tortoises,' I said, 'but this is the first time I have seen one as a pet. In Japan, one sees in the ponds or small lakes round the temples, hundreds, nay, thousands, floating in the water, or lying on rocksor boards basking in the sun. Their preservation is chiefly due to the customary kindness and religious sentiment of the Japanese.'

I then told the duchess what I knew of tortoises and their habits, remarking that those amphibians lived more in the water than on land, and it was necessary for them to be put in the water at least occasionally.

And so the soft summer evening glided away as we passed from one topic of conversation to another.

—'Do you find European languages very difficult to learn?' asked one of the young ladies. 'I suppose there is no similarity between our language and yours?'

—'None whatever,' I replied, 'and we certainly find them very difficult to acquire. The difference between the various European languages might perhaps be compared to the difference between a horse and a mule, while the difference between Japanese and the European languages would certainly not be closer in comparison than a horse to an ox. That is to say, the former differs only in species, and the latter in kind. Hence you can easily see how much more difficult it is for an Oriental to learn any European language, than a European to learn a second European language. Even amongst the European languages, there are, as you know, many idioms differing one from the other, and consequently difficult to understand. Only the other day I was not a little amused at a French translation of the English sentence "hold good" in the sense that "one thing had an advantage over another." You can imagine how much more difficult it is for a Japanese to know the value of every word, not to say an idiom, of a European language. Once in Japan, I was watching some European and Japanese children playing Hide-and-Seek together. The European children were making use of the Japanese words meaning "Hot and Cold" in place of "Far and Near." I could only make out whatthey meant after I had carefully watched the game. I am sure we commit similar errors every day when speaking in a foreign language. More than thirty years ago a party of Japanese ambassadors, including the present Marquis Ito, whom you know, and their suites, made a round trip through America and Europe: perhaps the duke remembers it. The mayor of a large manufacturing town in England, which a portion of the party were visiting, invited the visitors to the play. The party was divided into two and occupied two boxes opposite each other. The mayor and his wife were in a box and their daughter in the other. An Englishman who was in the mayor's box remarked to a Japanese guest, of an eminent fellow-guest seated beside the young lady opposite, "Monsieur K. must be very happy," meaning, no doubt, to pay a compliment indirectly to the mayor and his wife; but the Japanese to whom the remark was addressed understood but little English and replied: "K. must be quite ashamed."

—'It spoilt everything. In our language the word meaning "shame" and "bashfulness" are identical and the sense is only modified by a slight difference in construction. A somewhat similar example is the great difference in the meaning between the phrasesfâché contreandfâché de. The results of the misconstruction, as may be imagined, were rather serious. It was only made good by another Japanese who made a timely explanation. I heard this incident direct from that gentleman who made the explanation. That incident clearly demonstrates how difficult and delicate it is to express oneself in a tongue other than one's own.'

—'Exactly,' interposed the young nobleman. 'It is always necessary to make much allowance for a foreigner, and to make a guess at his meaning.'

—'The jiujitsu is being exhibited once more inFrance,' said the duchess. 'I have seen several advertisements in to-day's papers, one of which states that a physician asked the exhibitor to demonstrate on him, and afterwards declared it quite scientific. People in France know very little of that art.'

—'No wonder,' I answered; 'even in England, where jiujitsu is so much spoken of, it was very little known until quite recently. Not many years ago a lecture on the subject, accompanied by some practical demonstrations, was delivered at a literary society, by a Japanese gentleman, assisted by another Japanese. On that occasion a weekly paper of high reputation commented upon the art, saying that there was nothing in it. The writer added that jiujitsu was exactly the same as the English wrestling, with a few different tricks.'

—'Is there much difference between the two?'

—'Yes, there is a great difference. Of course the combatants in both exercises strive to get the upper hand of each other, but the great difference is that the wrestling relies chiefly on strength, whilst jiujitsu depends on all sorts of tricks, based upon a careful study of physical organism, and therefore physical strength may be said to be of little value, nay, in truth, it uses the strength of the opponent against himself. We, in Japan, have also a method of competition resembling the wrestling of the West, and we apply to that the Western name "wrestling." We do not like our jiujitsu to be confounded with it, though Western people sometimes call it by that name. When our jiujitsu is called "wrestling," it hurts our feelings a little.'

—'Why, how is that?' demanded the duchess.

—'Well, nothing very serious, but the reason is this: jiujitsu has always been regarded in Japan as an art chiefly practised by men of the higher classes. It has never been a profession, still less a public show, and the reason why now and then the art is made an object ofexhibition in a public hall of the Western towns, is only an outcome of the altered conditions of the time. On the other hand, the wrestling which we call Sumoo has always been a profession and for public entertainment for many centuries.'

—'I see.'

—'It must, however, be understood that even wrestling is not considered a low profession, and though it is exhibited to the public, is very different from other kinds of shows—those, for instance, given at a fête. Wrestling in Japan has a very remote origin. In its earlier stage it was not a profession, it was one of the military sports, but as time went on it became a regular profession. Tokio is the centre of the Wrestling Association, and therefore it has the best wrestlers. Osaka comes next. The wrestlers are brought up and trained from boyhood: promising youths are picked up from all parts of the country by the principal wrestlers and taken into their private halls. There are two principal exhibitions of ten days, one early in the year and the other early in the summer, held in Tokio, when the rank and order of every member of the association is determined by competition. In the intervals they subdivide themselves into several parties and go about the country exhibiting their art. Men are very fond of seeing the wrestling, though very few women care to see it; in fact, it is only of recent date that one observes any women at all at such exhibitions, and those only of indifferent standing. It is not considered good taste. The last point excepted, wrestling in Japan resembles somewhat a bull-fight in Spain. I do not mean the sport itself, but in the sense of its being a national institution. From this fact you may see that we have more and better wrestlers than you in the West. Sometimes Western wrestlers come to Japan and challenge our wrestlers, but they are no match for ours. It is notworth boasting about, I merely state the fact. Of course, there is also much wrestling in country parts, and young people often perform, but they are, after all, only amateurs. As to jiujitsu, the art has been studied by the Samurai in a similar manner to fencing, with no professional performance or public show. Hence a great difference in the social position of jiujitsu experts and wrestlers. Nevertheless, the wrestlers maintain some trace of their ancient standing, for their position even now is regarded as superior to actors or the geisha, though good actors are rapidly gaining a social position.'

—'Is jiujitsu as old as wrestling?'

—'No, it is not. Jiujitsu is not quite three hundred years old, since it has been systematised into an art. There are many schools, I mean styles, of jiujitsu, and naturally some are older than others. They differ somewhat from one another, the difference having arisen chiefly from the endeavour of the founders to make improvements.'

—'But what is the real purport of jiujitsu?'

—'The masters call it an art of self-defence. You see, our Samurai do not like to be arrogant or offensive to other people, and therefore they profess to use jiujitsu only when attacked, hence the name of self-defence, and this point is one of their ideals; but as a matter of fact, it is an art that can be used for attack equally well, and therefore may be called an art both offensive and defensive. The advantage of knowing this art is that we can throw an opponent without hurting or killing him, because it requires no weapons, not even a stick. It is done by catching hold of various parts of the opponent by the hands. Of course, there are many tricks, and therefore, if both parties be equally efficient in the art, the combat becomes very complicated. The term jiujitsu literally means "soft art," or an art accomplished by "sleight of body," as some people putit, so much so that one school is called "The Willow Mind Style." We have a saying, "A willow knows not a breaking by snow," meaning that a slender branch of a willow is stronger than a branch of a robust tree like the pine, an analogy showing that flexibility is often stronger than stubbornness.

'From all this it may well be imagined that a slender and small man, without any perceptible physical strength, can often become a great master of the art. Once at Shanghai, a Japanese who understood jiujitsu well was attacked by a group of Chinese roughs in the middle of a bridge, but he threw them all, one after the other, since when no Chinaman attempts to attack a Japanese, concluding wisely that we may all be masters of the art. Once in England—I believe it was in Newcastle—a number of roughs attacked a Japanese; he threw them all, one after the other, and went off. The roughs were taken into custody by constables, when they confessed that they would not have attacked the man had they known he was a Japanese, and they believed that all Japanese knew the "devilish trick of wrestling," as they called it. You now see the nature of our jiujitsu, I suppose.'

—'And suppose your best wrestler and a jiujitsu man encountered?' asked one of the young ladies.

—'A wrestler is no match for a jiujitsu man. A wrestler who can lift up a big stone, or catch hold of a bull by its horns, would be easily beaten by a youth of fourteen scarcely able to lift a small cannon ball, provided the boy were well trained in jiujitsu. In wrestling, therefore, all jiujitsu tricks are forbidden. This will explain why no Occidental, even a champion wrestler, has ever succeeded in defeating a Japanese jiujitsu man. Perhaps you remember one of our jiujitsu men, who is in England, won the Gold Championship Cup last year, and yet in Japan he is not considered a first-class man inthe art. I do not, however, wish to boast of the matter. Even amongst the most undeveloped tribes one sometimes sees the greatest possible skill shown in such matters, especially in the use of the bow and arrow. I hear American Indians shoot fishes in the rivers with arrows, and that too not by aiming direct, but by sending arrows up in the air and letting them fall in the water. They do not shoot direct, because, as you know, the curve of sight in water is very different from that in plain air.'

—'I understand that,' said the duchess, 'but your jiujitsu seems to be very different from mere skill. It is the result of a long and deliberate study of physical organism, systematised upon a scientific basis, as the physician in the paper says.'

—'Maybe,' I answered.

—'But what is that book which you have brought with you?' asked the duchess.

—'It is the book I promised you the other day. It is theKokkwa, a monthly on art. It contains, as you see, very good photogravures and chromographs of our oldobjets d'art.'

So saying, I handed the book to the duchess, and continued:

—'You told me the other day,aproposof the conversation of the Marchioness Vivastine and myself, that you were also an admirer of our art, and that you appreciated Utamaro and Hokusai. No doubt they were great artists, and I am delighted, of course, with your appreciation, but we should be sorry if they stood to you for the best that we can do in art. This monthly will give you a good idea why I say so.'

All present were interested in the book, and its pages were gently turned over one by one. Presently the duchess remarked:

—'Do you mean to say that the originals of these illustrations date back thirteen centuries?'

—'Indeed, I do,' I replied.

—'And that these prints were really made in Japan?' said another.

—'Yes, surely.'

—'What a softness and feeling here! Look!' the duchess went on; 'and how this part resembles classic Italian.'

—'The art of printing,' I said, 'is well developed in Japan. The other day I showed a copy of theFinancial and Economical Annualof Japan to a Frenchman, and he thought the printing was very neat and clear, and could scarcely believe that the book had been printed in my country.'

—'I can quite realise the scepticism of that person; but can you give me a rough idea of your ideal of pictures?'

—'That's a rather difficult question. In your sacred book you have a picture where Christ talks about "lilies." He stands in a field, utters His words, pointing to some pure white lilies blooming, but not in abundance, in the field. There is a perfect picture, the symbolic meaning of the pure white flowers standing out vividly before your eyes. In another place you see Christ entering a boat on a lake. There is another picture. A lake calm and serene, surrounded by undulating hills, perhaps with the shadow of the hills and trees reflected on the surface of the water. There one or two fishermen handle oars in a fantastic boat. A sage calls them from the shore to come to Him. A perfect landscape! An immense expanse and an eternal stillness of the universe almost unconsciously arises before the mind's eye of the onlooker. Such is, then, a type of the ideals of our pictorial worlds.'

—'I can well imagine it,' said the young nobleman. 'Your chromographs of even small objects, such as picture postcards, are very fine and artistic and, at thesame time, so simple. Look at ours: they have neither feeling nor taste, and usually are showy and gorgeous, and, indeed, often vulgar.'

—'I must say I agree with you to some extent. I am rather sorry that such monthly publications asKokkwado not pay well in Japan. The present publisher of the journal is the proprietor of a large newspaper, and not a regular book publisher. He is himself a great collector of ourobjets d'art, of which he is very fond, and this is the sole reason why he took up the publication after it had been nearly discontinued by its former publisher. He is now trying to see if an English edition of it will pay, although the end he has in view is to make Japan known to the West, rather than any pecuniary personal gain. Indeed, it is for that reason he has sent me this copy, asking me to show it to those who have a taste for such things. I really think that, for the general good, the publication is worth continuing.'

—'Certainly,' said the duchess. 'Let me see, it is only two yen per number, that is five francs per month; cheap enough. I will subscribe at once.'

The young nobleman now left our party, for he had another engagement. He has a talent for music, and when a private concert was given only a few weeks ago in the garden of an aristocratic family which I know, he was the conductor, although only an amateur. This the young ladies told me, and the circumstance led me to ask if they also were not musical. One of them, she told me, played the piano, and the other the violin, and I said I hoped that one day they would let me have the pleasure of hearing them. I further said that the piano was only known in Japan to a slight degree, and that only recently; but that we had always had an instrument much resembling the violin.

The duke held in his hand an English literary weekly of the highest repute. Turning to me he said:

—'Look! here is a review of two new books, one on the Bushido by a Japanese writer, and the other on Japan in general by an American, I suppose. It is a subject that interests me, as, indeed, it does many people nowadays. I have read it through and noticed that the reviewer speaks of Bushido very sarcastically. He says, among other things, that the discovery of Bushido is of quite recent date, and continues; but listen, I will read it:

'Neither Sir E. Satow nor Dr. Aston even mentions the word Bushido; Prof. Chamberlain in hisThings Japanese(1898) does not refer to it; the word is not contained in the admirable dictionary prepared by Captain Brinkley, the able but intensely Japanicised correspondent of theTimes; nor is it to be found in the principal native dictionary, theKotoba no Izumi("Source of Language").'

—'What nonsense,' I interrupted; 'by the same analogy one might say, because there is no compound noun Christian-morality in an English dictionary, there is no such thing as Christian morality.'

'Bushido, in literal Chinese,' continued the duke, reading, 'is the way of the executioner, and those who were eye-witnesses of the tyranny of the Samurai, in the last three years of the Bakufu [Shogunate], will not regard the name as altogether inappropriate. The Bushi (a Japano-Chinese, but not Chineseform), or Samurai, were neither knights nor knightly; they were "followers" merely; many, if not most of them, petty officials, few of them for two hundred and fifty years possessed any military experience whatever.'

—'How ridiculous,' I interrupted; 'but I cannot make out what the reviewer could have got into his head to make him translate the term Bushi as "executioner." It is an insult to Bushi, of whom we have the oft-quoted saying, "Hana wa sakura ni hitowa bushi": "As the cherry blossoms are the prime of the flowers, so theBushi is the flower of man." We have a popular drama in which there is a scene where a female prisoner is brought out under the superintendence of a common Bushi; and there the phrase "Keigo-no-Bushi" occurs, meaning, the Bushi who guards. Perhaps the reviewer remembered it, and concluded that Bushi meant an executioner, because he had charge of a prisoner. If this is so, by the same analogy we might say the "Knight of the Garter" is a domestic servant who looks after his mistress's garter. Ah! there is another thing which occurs to me. In China, where military men are little thought of, they are often used for such duties as those of an executioner; some foreigners, who had seen the fact whereby those men were called Bushi, perhaps thought that the term meant "executioners" without knowing its primary meaning. By that analogy one might say that gentlemen belonging to the honourable guild known as "The Worshipful Company of Grocers of the City of London" were common dealers in tea and sugar, because they are called grocers, without knowing the origin of the term. The passages in that review accidentally caught my sight too, and out of curiosity I looked the matter up in a few books which I happened to have by me. It is a little technical, but if you do not mind, I will explain it to you in detail.'

—'Please do,' said the duke.

—'The word Bushi is a noun composed of two Chinese characters,buandshi, both having a distinct meaning.Bumeans military or martial when used as an adjective, but it is also very commonly used as a concrete noun; and in that case it may be translated as martialism. When used as a noun it is used in contradistinction tobun. The last word may be translated as "civil," but I am unable to find out an exact equivalent in the Western terms, because the Western term "civil," still less the term "civism," does notconvey the true idea of the word. It may, however, be taken to signify things or affairs on civil lines, as contrasting with those on military lines.Shimeans a man of position or a gentleman, which came by evolution to mean a military man rather than a civilian. These two words,buandshi, were put together and made a compound noun, signifying professional military people. The term has been most commonly used in Japan for over ten centuries. There are two other terms, Bundo and Budo, the former means principle, or doctrine, or teaching, or ways of affairs on civil lines, and the latter means the same on martial lines. They are very antique terms, contradistinguishing each other. The term Bushido is not so ancient as those two, but still it is by no means modern. The term Budo is used when one wishes to refer the matter more to the system or the principle as a unit; and the term Bushido is used when one wishes to designate more the individuals. In China the term Bushi had existed, as is natural from the antiquity of her history, many centuries before it did in Japan; I have seen it used in the history of the Hung dynasty. The term of course signifies military men; nevertheless, it has not acquired so much prominence as it has done in Japan, because in China military men have never attained the same importance and organisation as in Japan, and naturally enough there exists in China no such term as Bushido in its concrete sense, Bushido being peculiarly unique to the Japanese. Bushido consists of three Chinese characters, as the reviewer says. In the colloquial Japanese it is read as Bushi-no-michi,dobeing the Chinese way of pronunciation, andmichibeing the colloquial Japanese pronunciation of the one and the same character; and thereforedoandmichiare both the same thing. InHogen Monogatari, an historical record of the events which took place in the middle of the twelfth century A.D., andwritten not longer after that period, a great hero, Tametomo, is represented to have said, in the course of a speech, as follows:

'For a Bushi, an act of killing is inevitable. Nevertheless Bushi-no-michi [i.e.Bushido] forbids to kill an unfit object, and therefore, though I have fought more than twenty battles, and put an end to countless lives, I have always fought legitimate foes, and not illegitimate foes [in modern phraseology combatants and non-combatants]. And more! I have neither killed a deer nor fished a fish.

'In the fourteenth century A.D., a book calledChiku-ba-sho(the reminiscence of the bamboo-horse), which is ethical teaching for Bushi, was written by Shiwa Yoshimasa, a Japanese general, born 1349, died 1410 A.D.

'Within the last three hundred years, when Bushido has made a great systematic progress on its literary and intellectual side, many treatises on the subject have been written by eminent scholars and expounders of that doctrine. Nakaye-toju, born in 1608 A.D., wrote a book calledQuestions and Answers on Bun and Bu, in which the terms Bundo and Budo are used. In the collection of the epistles of Kumazawa Banzan, born 1619 A.D., the same terms are much used. InLectures by Yamaga Soko, who was born in 1622, and was the founder of a school of our military science, there is one part called Shido. Shido and Bushido are one and the same thing, for the termbuis added toshiwhen one particularly wishes to denote the idea of the military profession. Thus, for instance, the old class of Samurai is now known as Shizoku, and not as Bushi-Zoku. Kaibara Yekken, born 1630 A.D., wrote a book calledBukum, namely, "Instructions on Bu," in which the term Bushi-no-michi is freely used. TheElementary Lessons on Budois a book written by Daidoji Yiuzan, born 1639. In that book the term Bushido is freely used, and we see therein such phrases: "What is most important in Bushidois the three conceptions of loyalty, justice, and bravery"; and "if a Bushi comprehend the two opposing notions of justice and injustice, and endeavour to do justice and refrain from doing injustice, Bushido will be attained." Izawa Hanrioshi, born 1711 A.D., published a book calledBushikun, namely, "Instructions for Bushi." In that book, also, the term Bushi-no-michi is repeatedly used, and at the end of the fourth volume of it there is a short postscript in which he says:

'These four volumes have been written to record the outlines of Bushido, in order to supplement the points left untouched in books published in recent generations, such as ... so that one must not say after reading this book that it is not minute.

'I could mention several more books, but I might weary you. The names I have just cited are, in Japan, no less household words than Voltaire or Rousseau in France, and Johnson or Goldsmith in England. Satow, Aston, Chamberlain, or Brinkley might not have had time enough to touch upon the Bushido, but if one says that because they have not touched upon it there is no such thing as Bushido in Japan, it is tantamount to saying that there is no such thing as a diamond in South Africa because some travellers have not mentioned it in their diaries.'

—'You appear always to be making use of the names Bushi and Samurai indiscriminately. No doubt they signify one and the same category of people. But what is the difference?'

—'You are right in raising that question. The term Samurai is a pure and simple Japanese word, derived from a verb meaning "to wait" or "to serve." In ancient times military men on guard at the Imperial palace were called by that name; but when one wished to make the appellation more concise and appear more scholastic, the term Bushi was used. The Chinesecharacter Shi is uniformly translated in Japanese as Samurai, but one preferred to employ the term Bushi more commonly because it gave more prominence to the military calling. At first the guards were recruited from ordinary people, but in course of time the recruiting became hereditary in certain families. They also began gradually to form a sort of class in different provinces, having their leaders, and at last formed a regular class of military men. Those men were universally called Bushi, and their families, when collectively spoken of, were calledBukenamely, "Houses of Bu."'

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