V

—'I understand. But what is the difference between Daimio and Samurai?'

—'A Daimio is the lord under whom the Samurai served. There were nearly three hundred feudal lords of different standing in Japan. And the number of them therefore, when spoken of roughly, was called "three hundred." In the broad signification the lords were also included in the category of Samurai. In a popular drama, in which a child lord is represented as being in want of food on account of an intrigue, he pathetically says, "A Samurai does not feel hungry even with an empty stomach." Feudal lords belonged to the category of Buke, in contradistinction toKuge, namely, noble families attached direct to the Imperial courts. At present, of course, there is no such distinction, all former feudal lords and court nobles form the Japanese nobility as one class.'

—'I see, it is quite plain,' said the duke. 'The reviewer appears to have some knowledge of Japan, but judging from what I have just heard from you, I am more convinced than ever of the saying that "a little knowledge is a dangerous thing." One is apt to commit errors on account of such knowledge, especially if he has any feeling of spite and tries to find fault with others. It amuses me all the more, because he further says:

'If one ignored history, it would be easy to draw a picture of Napoleon as a good-natured man of genius who was kind to his relations, and evolved order out of chaos;

and he himself ignores all the history of Bushido, which you have just given me.'

—'I do not think,' I said, 'the reviewer could have any spite against us, nor do I think he has intentionally committed the error you have just mentioned, but it is unfortunate that it has that appearance.'

—'Again,' said the duke, 'what does this mean? The reviewer says here:

'The meaningless quasi-military formalism of the Bakufu, under which the sword, undrawn from its scabbard, came to be almost worshipped, a system of merciless vendetta, often based upon trivial forms of injury, was established.'

—'Well, I will begin with answering the second point first. In thus giving vent to his vindictiveness, the reviewer seems to have forgotten, for instance, how few decades ago it was that in England a personage no less eminent than the prime minister was engaged, if not killed, in a duel. He forgets how widely duels are practised and connived at even now by the law on the Continent, and that men die, conceivably, in consequence of a sword-thrust or a pistol-shot. In Japan duels have been altogether forbidden by the law, as there were signs of duelling being introduced with European customs, and the prohibition has proved to be very effective. In the feudal period a custom similar to duelling, which the reviewer calls vendetta, existed, as he says; but its purport was very different from what he describes. The act was called Kataki-uchi, that is, "revenge." When a man lost his life on account of an unlawful and malicious injury, the children of the deceased regarded it as incumbent on them to take the matter in their hands, if no legal adjustments could be obtained. Inthe feudal times redress in such matters was not always easy, because the different clans had autonomy; and the Samurai's fighting generally originated from some quarrel of a political nature, and not from robbery or any other felonious act. On the other hand, Confucian ethics held it unworthy of a pious son to "share the same heaven" with a person who wrongfully murdered his father. From these circumstances arose the notion of the necessary vindication of the father's wrongs by the hands of the son. Thus the Japanese vendetta (Kataki-uchi) came to be officially recognised—a step further than the official connivance of the Western duels. As a matter of fact, our Kataki-uchi was of a far more serious nature, but of much rarer occurrence, than the Western duels. The same sentiments and practices were applicable to a lord and his retainers, though in a lesser degree, as in the case of blood relations. With us the avenger had always to stake much on his own part—life, position, and fortune—for although the principle of revenge was recognised in a measure, the avenger seldom got off scot-free from the responsibility of his act, which by the technical points of law was generally amenable to punishment. Thus you will see in the case of the famous forty-seven "Ronin," they avenged the death of their lord, because the latter had had to put an end to his own life, which was accompanied by an order for the total extinction of his house and clan, the cause of all of which was the injurious acts of the wrongdoer. The action of the forty-seven Ronin was morally approved by public sentiment, but they had to commit suicide because they were offenders in the eyes of the law. How, then, can one say that the Japanese Kataki-uchi was a merciless system, based upon trivial forms of injury, as the reviewer pleases to put it.'

—'But,' said the duke, 'suppose the revenge went onendlessly, to be handed down from generation to generation, as it was with the Scottish clans, that would be awful.'

—'No, in that respect, there was a limit. No second revenge was recognised in any form whatever. Thus, if A. murdered B. and B.'s son killed A. in revenge, A.'s son had no claim legally or morally to avenge his fathers death. I may also add that under the new Imperial régime Kataki-uchi has been totally discountenanced by law. There is no connivance of it at all. The law promises redress to every wrong, and every possible care is taken to protect the sufferers. Therefore, nowadays, if one kills another in revenge, he would be accounted an ordinary murderer in the eyes of the law.'

—'What about the sword?' interposed the duke.

—'The sword,' I answered, 'was considered the soul of Samurai. They regarded it as the symbol,—nay, the very embodiment of noble sentiment and spirit. It has been so more or less with almost every nation, but it was especially so with us Japanese. The Japanese swords are known to be unrivalled by those of any other nation. Our sword was the envy of all the continental peoples of the Far East. There is a famous poem composed by a great Chinese statesman and scholar, in which he pays high tribute not only to the sword itself, but to the nation which produces it. Even from a merely artistic point of view, our swords deserve to rank high; but that is not all. A latter-day author writes as follows:

The sword-smith was not a mere artisan, but an inspired artist, and his workshop his sanctuary. Daily he commences his craft with prayer and purification, or, as was said, he committed his soul and spirit into the forging and tempering of the steel. Every swing of the sledge-hammer, every plunge into the water, every friction on the stone, was a religious act of no slight import. Was it the spirit of the master or his tutelary deity that cast such a spell over our sword? Perfect as a workof art, setting at defiance its Toledo and Damascus rivals, there was more than art could impart. Its cold blade collecting on its surface, the moment it is drawn, the vapours of the atmosphere: its immaculate texture, flashing light of bluish hue; its matchless edge, upon which histories and possibilities hang, the curve of its back uniting exquisite grace with utmost strength—all these fill us with mixed feelings of power and beauty, of awe and terror.

'Such was, then, the "sword" which our Samurai adored. There were two or three at least of such swords, which were heirlooms of a Samurai family. Just imagine a Samurai going forth to the battlefield and reflecting what a distinction his ancestors had made in similar battlefields, or what devotions he had displayed to his lord by that very sword, now being borne in his hand or in his girdle: why! the very thought would fire his soul and make him emulate the deeds of his ancestors and despise cowardice. No mean thought could enter his mind; the spirit of the sword radiating from the pure cold lustre of the blade handed down by his ancestors could not but thrust such thought from his mind. Such would at least be the sentiments of a real Samurai. The sword was not unsheathed wantonly, but when drawn it was a maxim that it should not be sheathed until its legitimate mission had been fulfilled. No wonder, then, that a Samurai should almost have worshipped his sword, even when undrawn from its scabbard, as the reviewer sarcastically describes. The sword of a Samurai, even when in the scabbard, was not a thing to be trifled with. A Samurai worshipped sword, but not money-bags. If they had worshipped the latter instead of the former, they might have met with the approval of the reviewer. From the utilitarian point of view, if they had done so, it might have benefited their country more materially, and, therefore, their worshipping a sword might have been the weakest point of their ideals,but we do not see cause for regret for all that. The tide of time has brought changes on all such matters. The Government has forbidden not only Samurai, but also all others who were privileged, to wear swords in their girdles. Hundreds and thousands of our best blades have left the houses of Samurai and been either exported, or turned into other implements, for mere trifling sums, often for the gold and silver used for the ornaments of the scabbard. For us, it is sad to think of, though it is of course a necessary outcome of the great changes which have passed over us. It is, however, my earnest desire that the spirit of devotion to the swords with which the Samurai was animated may always be preserved. The same feeling explains why some of our officers carry with them their heirloom swords, even in the present war, as you must have noticed now and then in the press. The traditions of the sword, I am glad to say, have not as yet died in the breasts of the Japanese. There is an association in Tokio, the members of which meet periodically, bringing their own choice swords, and offering their comments on those of others. It may be difficult to appreciate how one can enjoy oneself looking at the blades of swords, but with us it gives great pleasure, if only from an artistic point of view. There have been many different schools of swordsmiths, and even amongst the workers of one school there is some special characteristics of their work. It is the pleasure of the Japanese who are fond of good sword blades to judge of the school and maker by inspecting the blades only. It pleases me to tell you of a gentleman in England who has made the study of Japanese swords a special subject, and his attainment of knowledge in the subject has been recognised by the association in Tokio, which has cheerfully elected him its honorary member. I may add a word or two. When Port Arthur was on the brink of falling, a cartoon waspublished in the LondonPunchrepresenting General Stoessel standing at the top of a fortified hill under a half-torn Russian flag. He was holding up a broken sword and uttering a few words of devotion to the Emperor of Russia. That cartoon took the English public very much, and was reproduced on the pages of many papers. It appealed very deeply to the imagination of the Japanese, in particular, though I am not quite sure if Stoessel deserved such sympathy at the last stage of the siege.'

—'That cartoon was very good,' said Lady Modestina. 'I have seen it.'

—'So have I too,' chimed in Lady Dulciana.

—'Let us proceed to the latter part of the review,' said the duke. 'The reviewer says of the author of the other book that "he takes rather a pessimistic view of Japan," and proceeds to say:

'Professor S. takes rather a pessimistic view of Japan. He admits to the full, as every one must, the five noble qualities of Japanese character, viz. bravery, loyalty, alertness, thoroughness, and self-control, to which list courtesy should be added.

But he goes on to quote from the author:

'The two cancers at the core of Japanese character are deep-set dishonesty and abandoned impurity; either would be sufficient to wreck the life of any nation.

And it seems, according to the reviewer, the author tells us that Japan is still a country where the word lie is not a term of reproach, but rather implies a jocular compliment, and then dilates upon the undesirable occupations of some females. The words employed are very strong. Let us have your opinion.'

—'We are at times vexed with some of the occidental writers,' I replied, 'even with Anglo-Saxon writers occasionally, who write in such a strain as though they lived high in the pure air, while we Japanese live in themuddy marshes. They pick out some dark spots in our customs, and magnify them to suit their own purpose, as though for all the world they had nothing similar, or even worse, in their own countries. Some of them do this from an excess of zeal which they display in their particular calling, without any particular bad intention of defaming Japan; but the results are the same. My answer to your question is very simple. The Yellow Peril alarmists may rest assured, for, according to the author, Japan must die a natural death. What an idea, to indict a whole nation as a den of liars! Does he not know that truthfulness and honesty is the highest ideal of our ethical notions? The commonest of our ethical sayings is: "Shozikino atama ni kami yadoru" (Deity rests on the heads that are honest). The commonest of the ethical poems is:

'Kokoro dani makoto no michi ni kanai nabaInorazu totemo kami ya mamoran.(If only one's thoughts be in accordWith the way of truthfulness,Deity will protect him, though he may not pray.)

'Does he not know another forcible and common saying of Bushido: "Bushi no ichigon" (One word of a Bushi), which means that a word uttered by a Bushi shall never be idle; or, expressed otherwise—"A word is sufficient; he will remain faithful to it"? It is the watchword of Bushi, and if ever a Bushi were doubted, that phrase sufficed for an answer. And it still governs our social ideal of truthfulness. "Yes" or "No," when once definitely uttered by a Bushi, was no more alterable than the ebb and flow of the tide. Does he not know another of our sayings? "Ichidaku senkin" (One "Yes" is equal to a thousand pieces of gold). Does he not know "Usotsuki" (a liar) is with us an everyday word of scathing contempt? Does he not know an"untruthful word," namely, a lie, is accounted a great sin in the Ten Commandments of Buddhism? Does he not know "Yamashi" (a speculator), a term akin to "a liar," is with us a common word of contempt? Does he not know that in large European towns waiters and drivers are constantly cheating strangers by giving wrong change or bad money? I particularly mention these incidents because I myself have often been a victim. Fancy the idea of saying that the wordlieis not a term of reproach in Japan! I would feign go a step further. This kind of charge is the commonest method which the Occidentals employ when they talk about the character of other races which they generally regard as inferior to themselves. But mere common-sense will tell them that there can be no human community, even amongst undeveloped tribes, where the wordlieis not a word of reproach, if only the smallest element of a moral notion exist, and there can hardly be any human community where there is no such moral notion at all. Such, at least, is my sociological view. With regard to the second accusation, the refutation I am going to make may not be quite in unison with social delicacy, but for that I ask your pardon. You say the author speaks of the undesirable life of some females. The matter is ugly enough, we admit. Of course, metaphorically speaking, we could restore by explanation the paint which had been blackened to its original colour, but still it would not be snow-white. Pure such matters cannot be, we admit, but is there any nation on earth which has no dark spot at all? I ask the author: Does he not know the real condition of the Western countries, whence he springs? How is it with Paris, London, Berlin, or Vienna? Pick, for instance, one hundred pedestrians at random, one afternoon or evening, in Regent Street, or on the Boulevards, the best thoroughfares of London and Paris. What percentage of them can be held up as the ideals of "purity" the writer seemsto imagine them to be? I might go much further if I wished, but I prefer not. Taken as a whole, I venture to think that the social structure of Japan is in reality far cleaner than that of most countries. Of course, I do not say "two wrongs make a right," but I do say this: It is naïve to accuse us in such harsh terms, as though believing that we Japanese have no idea of the dark spots of other nations. Men after the style of this writer admit such of our noble characteristics as those enumerated by the writer because they have become manifest, not during an epoch of peace, but in the time of war. Could any one say that they were manufactured specially for the war—at a minute's notice? Did not the greatest error of our opponents lie in the fact that they had not perceived these qualities in the time of peace? It saddens us to think that such a writer either cannot see, or intentionally ignores, some of the essential points of our character, unless they are incontestably demonstrated by incessant slaughter.

—'Pardon me,—I have been a little excited, and have spoken, perhaps, more than I should. Once a Frenchman told Lord Palmerston that English thieves were cleverer than Continental ones; whereupon Palmerston answered: "I am glad of that, for it shows that our intellectual faculty is more developed all round." That is one way of looking at things. At any rate, I have no intention of attacking any occidental vices: our writers do not indulge in writing on these matters either. I rather believe that vices are necessary outcomes of modern progress. Every nation has its virtues and vices. I dare say we shall have to add more vices as we make further progress. Cards, for instance, are much played nowadays among our people, since we have learned that they are played generally among our occidental benefactors. Ah! but I must not forget to mention that there are in the West, especially in Englandand America, many writers for whose fairness we have much gratitude. One does not like to see, still less to acknowledge, any point of superiority in a fellow-creature or a fellow-nation one has been accustomed to look down upon: such is human nature. Our sense of gratitude is, therefore, all the more due to those unbiassed writers.

'Japan is cleaner than most countries,' I continued, 'but she was even better in that respect in the days gone by. Conversely, therefore, the general atmosphere of social morality, I confess, became somewhat tarnished at the time of the great transition, as is bound at such period. There are two reasons for that. In the first place, in the feudal days social discipline was very strict in general, and tranquil enjoyment of the positions of Samurai—above all, those holding official positions—depended a great deal upon their private conduct; but with the introduction of occidental ideas, the private affairs of individuals have come to be viewed very leniently under the name of personal freedom. In the second place, the general condition of society has occasioned laxity in moral discipline almost unavoidably and of necessity. I mean to say that, during the last years of the Shogunate, when the country was in a state of effervescence, and when freedom of speech and meeting had no existence in the modern sense—nay, when any meetings or speeches having a political nature were most rigidly watched and pursued by emissaries, it was almost a matter of necessity that countless young patriots whose lives were as precarious as candle-lights in the wind, as we have it, should resort to a restaurant or tavern, where they could exchange and communicate thought and schemes under the cover of merriment and jocularity. Nay, more: there were not wanting young patriots, who in after years became famous, who owed their lives and success to the heroic assistance rendered by women of uncertain position, to whom they had torepay their indebtedness by personal consideration rather than yield to social scruples.

'The women also were heroic in those days, as is generally the case at the time of revolution in most countries. Add to this the general disruption and transformation, unknown in our previous history, of the whole structure of society, both political and social, and it will be no matter of surprise that a certain relaxation in the usual moral discipline of the people was the result. The Japan which foreigners have seen isthatJapan and not the Japan of her normal days. The effect of that great change of 1867—I say "Great Change," because we do not like to apply the term "revolution"—has been subsiding for many years, and now Japan is fast returning to her normal state. I am, therefore, not at all pessimistic in regard to the future of our national life, though the author may be.'

—'And besides,' interposed the duchess, 'foreigners themselves are also spoiling your manners, according to your remarks which I read in one of the English periodicals you gave me. Dulcy, will you bring the English periodical I mean? It is on the small table in my boudoir: I should like to read it once more.'

In a few moments the periodical in question was brought by Lady Dulciana. The duchess took it in her hand, saying, 'Here are the baron's remarks. Listen, I will read aloud.' She read as follows:—

'OCCIDENTAL CIVILISATION IN JAPAN'"Do you really think," I asked, "that, generally speaking, occidental civilisation is beneficial to Japan?"'"Well," slowly replied the baron, "that is a question which requires very careful answering. I am certainly of opinion that, from the purely material point of view, this invasion of Western thought and methods has done us the greatest possible good. I refer especially, of course, to science and mechanics.And as to the mental part of it, the influence also is distinctly good—but still, is not so beneficial as from the material point of view.'"Remember that for centuries we have had our own way of thinking and reasoning, and so, to a great extent, we are not convinced by Western thought. We keep to our old ways, to our old methods, though the trend of our ideas is slightly altered by European thought. Let me give you an illustration of what I mean, for it is rather a difficult point to explain. For instance, we have always been humane and charitable to our fellow-creatures, but in the old days there was no form of public charity. It was not much needed, as a matter of fact, but now you will find that we are everywhere establishing hospitals on the European system. So you see only the old mode of our charity is changed. It is rather a delicate point to say how far Western thought has impregnated our own. The opinions of Darwin, Huxley, and Spencer, as well as the views of Catholic and Protestant Missions, are spread all over Japan; but our ethical sense is such that it does not allow us easily to adopt the dogmatic points of foreign religions, and though many Japanese have adopted Christianity, yet they are, after all, in a vast minority. But that does not signify that we are averse to religion; on the contrary, I am glad to say we extend the greatest tolerance to all kinds of religionists. I am not a Christian myself, but I know, perhaps, more of the essence of Christianity than some of my fellow-countrymen who profess it, for I had to study the Greek Testament in my Cambridge days. I am always amused when the people here imagine I know nothing about that religion. The Missionary question is always a very delicate one. I am sure missionaries mean well, but sometimes they are very indiscreet. For instance, Miss M'Caul, writing the other day from the front, says that one of her escorts was a Japanese lady of position, who had been specially attached to her by the Japanese Government. One day a missionary went up to this lady and asked her if she was married. 'Oh yes,' she replied, 'and I have three children.' 'But were you married in church?' 'No,' 'Then, of course, you are not really married!' Well such narrow minds do real harm. The missionary did not mean to be offensive, but as your proverb has it—'Evil is often wrought by want of thought.'"'"Has Occidentalism spoiled your art, baron, do you think?"'"To a certain extent the Western civilisation has damaged the artistic side of our life. I don't think that your oil-paintings will ever supersede our own light sketches. Our houses are not made for elaborate picture frames, and the price of your pictures is much greater than the price of ours. And why should we pay a large sum when we can get as much happiness and pleasure for a small sum? But undoubtedly the European style is influencing ours, as ours is influencing yours. Although our pictures, as a rule, are excellent on the side of idealism, they are very often defective from a technical point of view. Our perspective can certainly be improved by the European method. Some people are of opinion that European methods will spoil our characteristics. But in my opinion it will be so only while the artists are in a transitory state; if they excel they will be all right. I don't see any reason to reject that kind of improvement. Let me give you a plain and simple example of what I mean. Take that square box, for instance. Now, a Japanese artist, owing to his inefficiency in perspective, would so draw it as to make it appear triangular; well, what harm could be done by showing him how to draw it properly.'"The people generally move with the upper classes, and all our upper classes in Japan are in favour of Western modes of thought and life. People generally are delighted with the Westernisation of Japan, and especially grateful for the improvement in political and civic conditions. We have now the representative system in Parliament; our Courts of Law are modelled on yours; and alas! the increase of Courts has increased litigation, yet justice can be obtained, and appeal can be made against injustice, easier than under the old feudal system. The general condition of the lower classes is far better than in the days of the feudal daimios. Then every locality differed. In some places, if the daimio was a good man, the poor were happy; in others they were less happy, but on the whole there was not extreme poverty. The same condition is continued and somewhat improved. I fear, however, that the relative position of the poor has a tendency to degenerate as in Europe."'THE STANDARD OF LIVING'"Are the people generally better off as regards money?"'"Well, they make more money, but £10 now is only equal to £1, or less, in the old days. But one thing is certain, they have better food. There is one thing, however, in which Western methods have not benefited us—the demarcation between rich and poor is becoming more marked with the new civilisation. And that is a bad sign, though it can't be helped. Education, I am glad to say, is much more general than it was. In former days the Samurai class were well educated, and there were several very good schools, but education was not so general as it is now, when every community has its elementary schools, although we are still far from well off in the way of universities. However, they will come."'"In speaking to me of the new civilisation, for which he is mainly responsible, the Marquis Ito told me he was afraid that the reverence of the young for the old, and of children for their parents, which was so much a feature of old Japan, appeared to be dying out."'"I quite agree with him," replied the baron, "and if the individualistic ideas of Western nations continue to increase in Japan, the old family feeling of reverence is sure to decline. That is our great problem of the future. Young Japan in some ways is departing from the ways of its ancestors, and it is a thing to be very greatly feared and deplored."'"Do you think that, speaking generally, character is improved in Japan by the Western influence?"'"Speaking of individuals," replied my host, with great vehemence, "no, it is not. On the contrary, I notice great deterioration from association with foreigners. Take, for instance, our ports, where there are mainly houses of ill-fame, mainly supported by European sailors, who have introduced vices and vulgarities of which old Japan was absolutely ignorant. But, of course, I do not consider that the Western influence is wholly bad merely because certain very low-class foreigners come to our country and behave badly. The general good of the community has been greatly advanced by our contact with the West. Trades-unions, for instance, and the formation of great business companies, which were quite unknown in the old days, have helped greatly to raise the commericalstatus of our people, both employers and employed. You ask me as to individual morality under modern influences. Well, it is difficult to define. On the whole, I think the morality of the individual was higher in the old days, because those days were more simple and the community was more sober. The more primitive a land is, the better it is morally. But I fear we must move with modern times."'"And which do you prefer—the quiet feudal days of old Japan, or the modern push and worry and hustle and bustle?"'"It all depends on the point of view," was my host's reply. "Competition with the world is absolutely necessary. But there were many good points about the old days. Although they involved a régime of restriction and there was very little chance of individual development (though not so little as Lafcadio Hearn would make out), men of ability could always push their way to the front even in the days of feudalism."'"The Marquis Ito, for instance?"'"Don't speak of him. He, Marquis Yamagata, and many others, have arisen from an obscure position, but, they belong more to our own time, I am speaking of older days. Take, for instance, Arai Hakuseki, who, born in humble circumstances, became the chief adviser of the Shogun. Many a farmer's son who joined the priesthood rose to greater power and position than that of a middle-class daimio."'"And do you think that the general level of happiness in Japan is as high as it was in the old days of romance?"'"Yes," smiled the baron. "But people were happy in former days because they did not know what freedom meant, still less the enjoyment of the luxuries to which they are now accustomed. To them ignorance was literally bliss. But the idea of happiness nowadays differs in kind and character, and it is difficult to say if modern Japan is as happy as the ancient Japan. One thing, I hope, will always remain with us, and that is our patriotism and loyalty. A country is in a good way which puts loyalty to the sovereign and love of country before all private and meaner considerations."'

'OCCIDENTAL CIVILISATION IN JAPAN

'"Do you really think," I asked, "that, generally speaking, occidental civilisation is beneficial to Japan?"

'"Well," slowly replied the baron, "that is a question which requires very careful answering. I am certainly of opinion that, from the purely material point of view, this invasion of Western thought and methods has done us the greatest possible good. I refer especially, of course, to science and mechanics.And as to the mental part of it, the influence also is distinctly good—but still, is not so beneficial as from the material point of view.

'"Remember that for centuries we have had our own way of thinking and reasoning, and so, to a great extent, we are not convinced by Western thought. We keep to our old ways, to our old methods, though the trend of our ideas is slightly altered by European thought. Let me give you an illustration of what I mean, for it is rather a difficult point to explain. For instance, we have always been humane and charitable to our fellow-creatures, but in the old days there was no form of public charity. It was not much needed, as a matter of fact, but now you will find that we are everywhere establishing hospitals on the European system. So you see only the old mode of our charity is changed. It is rather a delicate point to say how far Western thought has impregnated our own. The opinions of Darwin, Huxley, and Spencer, as well as the views of Catholic and Protestant Missions, are spread all over Japan; but our ethical sense is such that it does not allow us easily to adopt the dogmatic points of foreign religions, and though many Japanese have adopted Christianity, yet they are, after all, in a vast minority. But that does not signify that we are averse to religion; on the contrary, I am glad to say we extend the greatest tolerance to all kinds of religionists. I am not a Christian myself, but I know, perhaps, more of the essence of Christianity than some of my fellow-countrymen who profess it, for I had to study the Greek Testament in my Cambridge days. I am always amused when the people here imagine I know nothing about that religion. The Missionary question is always a very delicate one. I am sure missionaries mean well, but sometimes they are very indiscreet. For instance, Miss M'Caul, writing the other day from the front, says that one of her escorts was a Japanese lady of position, who had been specially attached to her by the Japanese Government. One day a missionary went up to this lady and asked her if she was married. 'Oh yes,' she replied, 'and I have three children.' 'But were you married in church?' 'No,' 'Then, of course, you are not really married!' Well such narrow minds do real harm. The missionary did not mean to be offensive, but as your proverb has it—'Evil is often wrought by want of thought.'"

'"Has Occidentalism spoiled your art, baron, do you think?"

'"To a certain extent the Western civilisation has damaged the artistic side of our life. I don't think that your oil-paintings will ever supersede our own light sketches. Our houses are not made for elaborate picture frames, and the price of your pictures is much greater than the price of ours. And why should we pay a large sum when we can get as much happiness and pleasure for a small sum? But undoubtedly the European style is influencing ours, as ours is influencing yours. Although our pictures, as a rule, are excellent on the side of idealism, they are very often defective from a technical point of view. Our perspective can certainly be improved by the European method. Some people are of opinion that European methods will spoil our characteristics. But in my opinion it will be so only while the artists are in a transitory state; if they excel they will be all right. I don't see any reason to reject that kind of improvement. Let me give you a plain and simple example of what I mean. Take that square box, for instance. Now, a Japanese artist, owing to his inefficiency in perspective, would so draw it as to make it appear triangular; well, what harm could be done by showing him how to draw it properly.

'"The people generally move with the upper classes, and all our upper classes in Japan are in favour of Western modes of thought and life. People generally are delighted with the Westernisation of Japan, and especially grateful for the improvement in political and civic conditions. We have now the representative system in Parliament; our Courts of Law are modelled on yours; and alas! the increase of Courts has increased litigation, yet justice can be obtained, and appeal can be made against injustice, easier than under the old feudal system. The general condition of the lower classes is far better than in the days of the feudal daimios. Then every locality differed. In some places, if the daimio was a good man, the poor were happy; in others they were less happy, but on the whole there was not extreme poverty. The same condition is continued and somewhat improved. I fear, however, that the relative position of the poor has a tendency to degenerate as in Europe."

'THE STANDARD OF LIVING

'"Are the people generally better off as regards money?"

'"Well, they make more money, but £10 now is only equal to £1, or less, in the old days. But one thing is certain, they have better food. There is one thing, however, in which Western methods have not benefited us—the demarcation between rich and poor is becoming more marked with the new civilisation. And that is a bad sign, though it can't be helped. Education, I am glad to say, is much more general than it was. In former days the Samurai class were well educated, and there were several very good schools, but education was not so general as it is now, when every community has its elementary schools, although we are still far from well off in the way of universities. However, they will come."

'"In speaking to me of the new civilisation, for which he is mainly responsible, the Marquis Ito told me he was afraid that the reverence of the young for the old, and of children for their parents, which was so much a feature of old Japan, appeared to be dying out."

'"I quite agree with him," replied the baron, "and if the individualistic ideas of Western nations continue to increase in Japan, the old family feeling of reverence is sure to decline. That is our great problem of the future. Young Japan in some ways is departing from the ways of its ancestors, and it is a thing to be very greatly feared and deplored."

'"Do you think that, speaking generally, character is improved in Japan by the Western influence?"

'"Speaking of individuals," replied my host, with great vehemence, "no, it is not. On the contrary, I notice great deterioration from association with foreigners. Take, for instance, our ports, where there are mainly houses of ill-fame, mainly supported by European sailors, who have introduced vices and vulgarities of which old Japan was absolutely ignorant. But, of course, I do not consider that the Western influence is wholly bad merely because certain very low-class foreigners come to our country and behave badly. The general good of the community has been greatly advanced by our contact with the West. Trades-unions, for instance, and the formation of great business companies, which were quite unknown in the old days, have helped greatly to raise the commericalstatus of our people, both employers and employed. You ask me as to individual morality under modern influences. Well, it is difficult to define. On the whole, I think the morality of the individual was higher in the old days, because those days were more simple and the community was more sober. The more primitive a land is, the better it is morally. But I fear we must move with modern times."

'"And which do you prefer—the quiet feudal days of old Japan, or the modern push and worry and hustle and bustle?"

'"It all depends on the point of view," was my host's reply. "Competition with the world is absolutely necessary. But there were many good points about the old days. Although they involved a régime of restriction and there was very little chance of individual development (though not so little as Lafcadio Hearn would make out), men of ability could always push their way to the front even in the days of feudalism."

'"The Marquis Ito, for instance?"

'"Don't speak of him. He, Marquis Yamagata, and many others, have arisen from an obscure position, but, they belong more to our own time, I am speaking of older days. Take, for instance, Arai Hakuseki, who, born in humble circumstances, became the chief adviser of the Shogun. Many a farmer's son who joined the priesthood rose to greater power and position than that of a middle-class daimio."

'"And do you think that the general level of happiness in Japan is as high as it was in the old days of romance?"

'"Yes," smiled the baron. "But people were happy in former days because they did not know what freedom meant, still less the enjoyment of the luxuries to which they are now accustomed. To them ignorance was literally bliss. But the idea of happiness nowadays differs in kind and character, and it is difficult to say if modern Japan is as happy as the ancient Japan. One thing, I hope, will always remain with us, and that is our patriotism and loyalty. A country is in a good way which puts loyalty to the sovereign and love of country before all private and meaner considerations."'

Finishing the reading, the duchess continued, 'I suppose you are correctly reported?'

—'Yes, in the main,' I answered.

—'I was reading,' said the duchess, 'the other day,the chapter on Japan in theFar East, by Archibald Little, just issued from the Clarendon Press, which, I think, is the best topographical description of Japan written in a popular style. In it I came across a passage to this effect:

'Whether increased intercourse with the essentially vulgar West will, as many well-wishers fear, at the same time destroy the old simplicity of living, the future will show.

'The Occidentals seem to have begun to perceive vulgarity in things European. There is really vulgarity in many things, I fear. But, baron, had you any particular idea when you spoke about the vulgarity introduced into your open ports?'

—'I am afraid not,' I answered; 'it would be difficult for me to explain it to you, and you would not appreciate it if I did. Look! the last ray of the sun is glittering in the foliage. Time has flown wonderfully quick: I must sayau revoir'

Some observations fit on peace prospects—Discussion on Anglo-French-Russo-Japaneseentente—Russian views of the Japanese—Discussion on religion and Japan—Japan and the International Conventions—The meaning of religion—General Nogi—A high-priest on Japan and Russia—The Japanese conception of death—A quotation from an old book on Bushido—The notion of the name—Further remarks on the Russian views of the Japanese—England and America—The outbreak of the war—A wanton project of the Russian admiral restrained by the French admiral—Discussion on the Yellow Peril and Pan-Asiatic ambition—Japan not a small country —French poor in the caves—Paris by night—Sir Stamford Raffles and his appreciation of Japan ninety years ago—Patriotism and France—La France, c'est le pays de mon cœur—A romantic and tragical story—Discussion on Socialism and Japan—England and America—Discussion on the word 'Revolution'—The Great Change of Japan in 1867—Its political and social effects—A comparison with the French Revolution—Discussion on unity and continuity of authority—An anonymous pamphlet—Discussion on the relative position of the French Nationalists and Socialists with regard to Japan—French thrift

I was once more partaking of teaen famillein the Duchess of Fairfield's garden. She, like myself, prefers to be unceremonious, as there is then so much more possibility of a quiet conversation.

—'What do you think of the prospect of peace?' said the duke. 'The war must surely now cease.'

—'Yes, I should think so too,' I replied. 'Enough blood has already been shed; but, you know, our opponents are such that they do not see things in the same light as other people.'

—'But they must do so now,' was the reply. 'Every one has known for a long time that it is of no use for them to carry on the war. The issue is clear.'

—'Well, we shall see what will happen.'

—'The justice of the cause and the singleness of the aim of Japan are now widely recognised by the thinking people of the whole world,' said the duchess, 'and the part you have played in it is not small.'

—'I thank you very much for your sympathetic words,' I answered. 'On the morrow of the battle of Tsu-shima I received a telegram from a well-known English writer in which he congratulated me on the brilliant victory, as he said, of our fleets, adding thereto "only equalled by your success in Europe." That that victory was brilliant I cannot deny, though the honour belongs to my own country, but as to the part of the telegram concerning myself, it is an exaggeration. The only thing which is true, however, is that I have worked hard all this time—I may say, harder than I have in all my life. I have done so, as every Japanese ought to do, having in view the fact that my fatherland has been engaged in the most gigantic struggle since the famous invasion of the Mongolian Armada, or even more momentous than that. I merely mention this incident to you because you are so sympathetic: I have never told it to any one else.'

—'I can quite understand your feelings,' said the duchess, and continued after a little pause—

'The whole world knows the chivalrous character of the Japanese. Remember, however, I am a friend of Russia, and that is the reason why I am all the more anxious that Russia should recognise the situation as it is.'

—'Yes, I know your views very well. There are many Frenchmen who hold similar views. Some of them sincerely wished to save the Baltic Fleet and advocated peace, as they were sure all the ships would go to the bottom of the sea if they ventured to the Far East, which would leave the Baltic defenceless, andwould thus deprive France of the usefulness of the Dual Alliance. But those friendly counsels were not heeded by the Russians; on the contrary, as you know, some insinuations were made regarding the press which had published them. We have a saying: "Good medicine is bitter to the mouth, and faithful counsel is averse to the ear." This is a case in point.'

—'It is often so, I fear,' said the duke. 'But, baron, I must now leave you. I have an engagement to-day, and have to take my daughters with me. The duchess studies diplomacy and politics more than I, so please stay and talk with her.'

The Duke of Fairfield is a typical aristocrat: although not a great talker, he is eminently sensible, unostentatious, and dignified. France of to-day is not for the aristocracy, but the duke is resigned to the circumstance. He has always been as cordial and kind to me as the other members of his family. He now left the duchess and me to our conversation, and went out with his two daughters.

—'I am an advocate of anententeAnglo-French as well as Russo-Japanese: we all four ought to keep on well together, that you know very well,' said the duchess. 'Of course I do not sympathise with the way in which the Russian bureaucracy carries on the administration of that country: that is understood. But what is your opinion of the Russians in general? Do you think you can ever be friendly with them?'

—'Yes, I think so: on our part there is no reason why we should not be friendly with the Russians. I can even say we like them individually. But, you see, they have some deep-rooted prejudices against us which stand in the way. Only some weeks ago, I read a letter written and widely circulated by Countess Sophie, the wife of Count Leo Tolstoy. She is an advocate of peace, and abhors war in general, as does her husband.We have no objection to her, so far as her conviction is concerned regarding war, but in that letter she is pleased to write:

'A spiritually undeveloped, unchristian nation, such as the Japanese, is bound to conquer, for among them is rife the principle of patriotism, which is opposed to the Christian principle of love to one's neighbour, and, therefore, of aversion to war. Russians have not yet grown to this stage, but they are on the way to it.

'You see, the countess says we are not Christians, and therefore cannot love our neighbours: it is a calumny. The great bulk of the Japanese are not Christians in religion, it is true, but we know how to love our neighbours all the same. It is a point of our ethics. For all that, we cannot give up our patriotism. Patriotism is not irreconcilable with the love of one's neighbour. If Christianity is such as the countess represents it to be, then I am fain to think that the less it influences our people the better. Besides, to say that the Russians are defeated by the Japanese because they love their neighbours more than the Japanese do theirs, is a proposition which, however religious it may be, cannot convince us in the least degree.'

—'Neither does it give me a shadow of conviction,' said the duchess. 'On the contrary, I know that intense belief in Christianity has often produced the best soldiers. Think of the Spanish army of Charles V., for instance. They were intensely religious, and at the same time intensely patriotic, and fought well. People often say the Japanese have no religion, but I do not believe it. They have a religion unique to themselves.'

—'Such views as those of the countess,' said I, 'are entertained not only by women like herself, but even by serious men, holding high positions. Only in the autumn of last year, a letter from one who signed himself"A Russian Statesman," and spoken of by the Editor as "A prominent Russian statesman, about whose love of peace there is no doubt," appeared in theDeutsche Revue, stating Russian views which to our eyes were of the most fantastic character. My answer to it was published in the sameRevue, when the writer retaliated by another letter expounding notions even more extraordinary. I answered him once more, and there the matter ended. In the course of the controversy he spoke of the difference between the Russian religious views of life and those of the Japanese, and insinuated that our conception of justice and morality was inferior to that of his country. He abused our law-courts and legislation. Fancy! a Russian statesman boasting of the matters relating to laws.

'He even went on to say,' I continued, 'that Japan has not been doing her duty according to the Convention agreed upon at The Hague Conference, whereas Russia (according to his view) had been doing hers for months. But the truth is, Japan has been most scrupulous in those matters from the very beginning of the war; the prisoners' treatment regulations were promulgated within a week's time after the outbreak of the war, and the Prisoners' Intelligence Board was instituted seven days later. The whole world knows the excellent working of the Japanese Red Cross Society, and, I may add, the defectiveness of Russia in similar respects. Yet the so-called Russian statesman can make an assertion of this kind, not in his own country, but in a foreign press, unchecked. His statement regarding the difference in moral thought, and cognate subjects, may be partly due to some political motive, but the fact remains that he circulates false ideas.'

—'I, for one, agree with you that the charge is certainly unfair,' said the duchess, 'and besides, Irepeat I do not agree with those who say that the Japanese have no religion. The very ideals which they hold up as models for their soldiers cannot but be a religion, as I said the other day. What does a "religion" mean? It means a conscientious preparedness and practice for the suppression of one's lower nature. Man has all sorts of wishes and desires, temptations and tendencies, which the experience of generations knows must be restrained. Wisdom comes in and teaches him to control such weakness, and the teaching, if systematised at all, becomes a "religion," a cult, if one prefers to call it by that appellation. For instance, man likes to live (what creature likes to die if left to his natural desire), and if he prefers to give up his life for some ideal, is it not an act of self-repression, or indeed of self-sacrifice, and if it forms a characteristic of a nation, does it not become the "religion" of that nation? Some say the Japanese despise life, because they like death for its own sake: I call that a nonsensical observation. On the contrary, I see a religion in the very fact of the Japanese being so patriotic as to so cheerfully sacrifice their lives for their country and for their emperor. A remark which I have read in a paper as having been uttered by General Nogi certainly contains, to my idea, a strong religious strain. It was:

'"Now that my two sons have sacrificed their lives and I am a childless man, I may with an easier conscience face the parents of those thousands of young men who have likewise offered up their lives under my command."

'The expression may be simple,' continued the duchess, 'but nevertheless, it is possible to discern in it a touch of feeling, which to me has a strong religious element. In truth, I must confess that I have noticed more deeds worthy of religion manifested by yourcountry than any nation professing a religion can lay claim to. Some time ago, a priest of very high standing returned from the Far East. He made an application while out there to be allowed to visit the Russian prisoners in order to see how they were treated by the Japanese authorities. He got the permission at once, and saw everything, to his great personal satisfaction. He then made a similar application to the Russian authorities, but was refused. He had some ground to suspect that the Russian treatment of the prisoners was not quite satisfactory. To begin with, he said, Japan, who is not our ally, had given him every facility, and Russia, who is, refused to do so. He almost wept at the thought that a non-Christian nation had more of the essence of a religion than another who professed Christianity. I should not have told you all this, were I not moved by the current of events, which have left a deep impression on my mind. I have no thoughts of being unfriendly to Russia, but I cannot help appreciating Japan all the same.'

—'I thank you very much,' I said.

—'I know the horror of war very well,' continued the duchess, 'and what lamentable incidents occur when the wild, warlike spirit prevails. During our last great war, I was but a girl of thirteen, and I was naturally with my mother. We had to quarter the wounded; I remember how I used to carry about a small table from one to another, writing short notes for them. Little as I was, many awful tales reached my ear during that war, wherein our priests, and our women too, were sufferers. I can never forget them. Compared to it the present war is a lesson; the so-called civilised world has to learn much from the Japanese, not only on points of courage and devotion, but also in regard tomorale.'

A little pause, and the duchess went on—

—'Stoical imperturbability appears to be a marked feature in your heroes. There are many people who have seen the character of the Japanese in many lights and appreciate it, and yet are unable to perceive their feelings, or I might rather say, sentimental qualities. They are curious to know if the Japanese nature is much developed in that respect.'

—'Well, I can tell you, as far as I may be permitted to judge my own countrymen, we have much feeling and sentimental elements. At the very bottom of the stoicism of Bushi there flows hidden streams of feeling and sentimentality, often imperceptible to the onlooker. In one way, I am of opinion that our heart is filled with even too much feeling and sentimentality, and I am inclined to believe it is our weak point, for feeling and sentimentality are often accompanied by over-scrupulousness and over-sensitiveness, and with us this disposition exercises much influence, not only in our private affairs, but also in politics and diplomacy. In this world, in which some people say that politics, still more international diplomacy, knows not morality, the fact that we are so scrupulous often hinders our politics and diplomacy, and yet we do not regret it, for the time may come when the just traits of our character will be discovered by the world at large, and receive its approval.'

—'You are,' said the duchess, 'well acquainted with our common saying, "Honesty is the best policy," and my earnest hope is that your country will never imitate some of the European politics. But, baron, let me ask another question: Granted that the moral and ethical training of Japan is a religion, as I do, yet I cannot entirely see how that training could have been instilled in the minds of millions of men so deeply. When one hears of thousands rushing on to certain death at a word of command (as we have often heard of the Japanese troops), one is almost tempted to think theremay be something in it which promises a reward in the future life for such a death, as is the case with the Mohammedan creed; but I understand that there is nothing of the sort in your training, and that the fact of your soldiers being so fearless of death has nothing to do with religion in its ordinarily accepted sense. I can very well imagine that this or that group of honourable men, picked out of multitudes, could be of that type, but it almost amazes me when we see hundreds of thousands of men, one and all, being animated by the same spirit, without any exception.'

—'I cannot,' I answered, 'profess that every man of our troops is so high-minded as you say, or at least, I cannot say so myself, being Japanese; but assuming it to be the case, the kind of doubt to which you give expression is entertained by many Occidentals, and questions to that effect have often been put to me. I can, however, give no other answer than to repeat that there is no such religious belief in our case, as there is in Mohammedanism. In Europe one often engages in a deadly duel on account of some dispute, sometimes for public reasons, but often for other reasons which do not appear commendable to outsiders: those who fight surely do not risk their lives from any religious belief in their cause. They do so because, as far as they themselves are concerned, a consideration of honour demands. This sentiment is exactly similar to our sense of honour, only in our case we have, perhaps, made it more rational and more general. To attain this ideal, a long training and preparation is necessary, but when once attained, there is nothing to wonder at. If one imagined that a man killed in a duel on account of a quarrel over a woman sacrificed his life because he believed he would be happy in a future life,—if he died in that fashion, every one else would laugh at him. Why, then, is there anything to wonder at when we say that we Japanese canbe fearless of death without connecting it with a religious belief of the future life, for a cause which is far nobler than that of the ordinary Western custom of sacrificing one's life in a duel. Themoraleof our troops is the result purely of ordinary ethical training and diffusion of national traditions. Loyalty and patriotism are the highest ideals of the Japanese nation. Japanese ethics have taught for centuries how to die an honourable death, and yet one must not think that Japanese ethics teach only how to die: they also teach how to live.'

—'What do you mean by that?'

—'I mean to say, in Bushido, death was not valued for its own sake, even in a battle, for if one died a useless or dishonourable death, it was called a dog's death, which, of course, is a term of contempt. We still have the same notion of death. In a book on Bushido, entitledChiku-ba-sho, written in the fourteenth century A.D., by Shiwa-Yoshimasa, as I mentioned the other day, we have in the very opening page, as follows:

'Men who handle bows and arrows [military men] should do their part, thinking not only of their own persons, but of the names of their descendants. They should not incur a perpetually irksome name [permanent bad reputation] on account of a greed for life, which is after all of short duration. But, on the other hand, if they cast away their lives when they ought not to die, they will also incur a discreditable name. The chief point is that life should be sacrificed when it is honourable to do so, in behalf of the supreme lord [the emperor], or on account of an affair which is of great importance to the generalissimo of their bows and arrows [the Shogun]. Only by thus behaving can the famous names of the descendants be secured and perpetuated. As a Bushi, one should never be light-minded; on the contrary, he should always be thoughtful and meditative. The majority of men pass their time saying they would behave aptly when time and circumstances requiring it arrive. Such people generally experience great difficulty when any emergency unexpectedly arises, and generally regret afterwards that they had missed the opportunity when theyought to have died. The training of the mind of the best bow-handlers [warriors] and of Buddhists is said to be identical. In all cases, restlessness of mind is deplorable.'

—'The term "name" plays a great part in your ethical notions, as I see from the quotation you have just given,' said the duchess. 'You yourself have also spoken about it in your peroration to the article on Japanese education, which you published in theIndependent Review. I was reading that article this very morning, and had intended to ask you for a further explanation about it, but I think I have now caught the idea, though it is somewhat vague to me still. The idea of doing one's part, thinking of the names of one's descendants, as the book you have just quoted speaks about, sounds somewhat odd to our ears. It will be always puzzling to the generality of the Occidentals.'

—'Why so,' I answered; 'you Occidentals seem always to make simple matters difficult to comprehend, when they would be quite clear if only viewed in a light, not deep, philosophical manner. The spirit of the dictum I have just quoted has always been maintained in our ethics, under all circumstances. As you say, no human creature can love death; it is against nature, and, therefore, we Japanese value life no less than other races; but we study how to live and how to die, and when circumstances require, we value our life lighter than the proverbial feather: that's all.'

—'And yet it is a problem for us,' said the duchess.

—'And it is plain to us who have grown up in such an atmosphere, although it may be somewhat difficult for foreigners to understand.'

—'Do you think those noble characteristics will last long under the influence of modern civilisation?' asked the duchess.

—'It is a question,' I answered, 'but I hope and believe it will last; indeed, we must make it do so.'

—'But now, to take up the thread of our original conversation,' said the duchess. 'Politically speaking, I am of the opinion that Russia ought to make friends with you, and that my long, endearing hope for anententebetween England, France, Russia, and your country ought to be effected for the security of peace at large and for the benefit of humanity.'

—'I appreciate,' I answered, 'the general trend of your discourse, and I know it has been your line of politics for many years, and not a view invented merely to please me. I sympathise with you all the more when I hear you confessing the weak points of an ally and paying high tribute to my country. The time may come when your cherished idea may be realised, but at present the prospects do not look bright. The greatest obstacle in the path is the pretensions of the Russians. They will not reconcile themselves to the idea that we Japanese are also a nation which deserves the name of a civilised race.'

—'They will and must do so in time,' said the duchess.

—'We Japanese are modest. We do not give ourselves airs. I say this frankly and sincerely. It is neither presumption nor self-conceit, it is my pure conviction; but we like to be treated with proper consideration. A few days ago an interview which I gave to a French weekly was published. The subject was somewhat akin to our present conversation. A telegram from Washington, which was published in some journals, stated that the Russians in America were irritated because President Roosevelt had given an informal reception to Baron Komura. It also stated that the Russians were inspiring the impression that Mr. Roosevelt was annoyed with Great Britain because she had refused to put pressure on Japan to be moderate, and so on. The gist of my observation on the telegram was:—

'It was understood that the plenipotentiaries of both countries should arrive in Washington before the first part of August. The Japanese plenipotentiaries arrived punctually at the prearranged date, but the Russian plenipotentiaries were belated, as we all know, and yet complaints are made that it was Mr. Roosevelt's partiality towards Japan which made him receive the Japanese plenipotentiaries informally. I cannot see why the president should not offer cordiality to his distinguished guests, be they Japanese or Russian, on their arrival. England is not less anxious to see the termination of the present war than any other nation, but I do not see why England should put pressure upon Japan to give advantage to Russia, inasmuch as she knows that Japan is not a nation to make any unreasonable demand upon her worsted foe. President Roosevelt knows all this. I also believe that while the president is determined to be quite impartial in the matter, he is not inclined to oppress Japan in order to give any unreasonable advantage to Russia, nor does he expect to see England do so either.

—'You see, such sentiments as those expressed in the telegram, which I do not consider a misrepresentation, cannot but arise from some idea of prestige, with which the Russians imagine they have been endowed to a much higher degree by nature than Japan has been. There is another point they have made a great deal of fuss about, and which they cannot get out of their heads. It is the first torpedoing of the Russian fleets at the entrance of Port Arthur, which took place, as you know, on the night of the 8-9th of February last year. They always speak of it as a treacherous attack. As a matter of fact, however, it was nothing of the sort, as may be seen from all the circumstances which forced us into the war, and which are known to all the world. Our justification has become more evident since the revelation of the secret history of the Russian politics of the time. There even exists a secret treaty between China and Russia, made at the time when Russia obtained a concession from China forthe construction of the Manchurian railways. The purport of the treaty, which is now no longer a secret, is no other than that Russia and China were to regard Japan as their enemy, and to menace her by the use of that railway. China soon discovered the fallacy: she soon saw that Japan had not the disposition represented by the Russians. Russia would perhaps now say that the treaty was only made for the purpose of obtaining the concession: I hope it was so, but who knows that it had been so from the beginning? In spite of all this, Japan had always adopted a conciliatory attitude before the outbreak of the war—a war in which, to use a phrase of President Roosevelt's memorable message to the American Congress, "it was necessary for the aggrieved nation valiantly to stand up for its rights." Remember, I do not quote this in any vainglory. Moreover, when the war became inevitable, we gave a clear notice of war to our opponents (on the 6th of that month). Perhaps you have seen the White Book of Japan relating to the subject.'

—'I saw a French translation of it,' said the duchess, 'and it has modified considerably the early impressions, not only of myself, but of most people.'

—'I am glad of that,' I said. 'It is true that the Emperor of Japan issued on the 10th of that month a formal declaration of war, but it was addressed to his own subjects, and its aim was to make the actual situation known to them and also indirectly to the neutrals. As far as Russia and Japan are concerned, the notice of the 6th, whereby Japan announced to Russia that she would take an "independent action," was nothing else than a declaration of war. It is, therefore, unfair to state that the first attack on Port Arthur was a "treacherous attack" or "an attack by surprise," even if there were no other reasons which justify Japan's action.'

—'And yet the Russian statesman, for instance, wrote in the same remarkable letters that "the whole world knows that Japan and not Russia has provoked the present war," and spoke of Japan, in reference to the first battle of Port Arthur, as "guilty of a criminal breach of peace," and of that battle as a "piratical night attack." He went on so far as to stigmatise Japan as "this bullying and bellicose nation." It is the more remarkable that all this had been done after the plain facts of the truth had come into the possession of the world. In the course of my refutation I stated that torpedoing was not a surprise attack in the sense of International Law, as the Russian statesman affirms; at the most it could only be construed as a tactical surprise, but in reality it was not even of that nature. I gave my reason therefor, to which the Russian statesman replied, that "a Japanese is the only person who can make any difference between a surprise and a tactical surprise, and no educated European can make such a difference." The difference itself is plain enough. Tactical surprises come under no sphere of international question. The Russian troops themselves are daily practising them in the war. In spite of it, he feigns his ignorance. In my reply I had to detail and to develop my argument a step further. If you are not already wearied, I will recall a passage of my letter in question:

'With regard to the Port Arthur question, I should like in the first place to ask the Russian statesman as to what Russia herself did in all warlike engagements before the battle of Narva, and also when the army of his country entered Poland in 1733; when it entered Moldavia and took possession of Chotsin, Bender, and Jassi in 1806; when the Russian ships fired into, and sunk or captured, some Greek ships and made an attack upon Poros in 1831? Further, how was it when the Russian troops made raids on the coasts of the northern islands of Japan unexpectedly and repeatedly in the beginningof the nineteenth century, on which occasions they slaughtered our innocent villagers and burned our villages, or when they attacked and occupied our Island of Tsushima in 1861?—in all these cases there having been no cause or reason whatever for the hostility perpetrated, and that, too, without the slightest warning. Above all, I should like to call his attention to the proposal which his country made through its ambassador, Baron Brunnow, to the Diplomatique Corps of the Great Powers at Constantinople in 1840, concerning Egypt. The Russian ambassador offered various schemes for action, the pith of which was to be found in the following words:'"To execute all these measures with the greatest promptitude, and with the greatest secrecy,—promptitude, because it is the only means of ensuring their success; secrecy, because the blow must first be struck before it is announced."'

'"To execute all these measures with the greatest promptitude, and with the greatest secrecy,—promptitude, because it is the only means of ensuring their success; secrecy, because the blow must first be struck before it is announced."'

Having read so far, I continued: 'After I had thus written, I proceeded to elucidate that, "with these facts in view, the Russians had no right to calumniate Japan, even if their country were attacked by surprise," and that, "nevertheless, Japan had done nothing of the sort, as is plain from other facts." Such is the case on our side.'

—'That point is now wholly cleared up in the eyes of the world,' said the duchess. 'The Russians certainly ought not to grumble endlessly over the milk which they themselves spilled!'

—'I may remind you of a still more fresh instance of the unscrupulousness of the Russians themselves. At the time of the ratification of the treaty of Simonoseki, did not the Russian admiral commanding the Pacific fleet propose to the French admiral commanding the French fleet in the same water to attack and destroy the Japanese fleet by a deliberate surprise! Was it not only restrained from being carried out by the judicious refusal of the French admiral on the ground that he had received no such instruction from his government! We cannot, of course, be thankful to France for joining the memorable combination of the three powers, but weremember with pleasant recollection the noble determination of her admiral.'

—'Thank God! our action was correct, at least in that respect.'

—'You must be quite sickened,' I said, 'of the hackneyed talk of the "Yellow Peril" cry, and the "Pan-Asiatic" ambition attributed to Japan, because you know they are all groundless. The same Russian statesman dilated on them also: if he really entertains any belief in them his conception is erroneous; if he does not, and still says so, it is most unfair. I assured him that Japan knew no such ambition, and gave vent to my conviction in this manner. I hope you will kindly listen to me.

'There is no possibility of "Panasianism" even if Japan had dreamed of it, nor is there any likelihood of the Western powers being endangered by the ascendency of Japan. The insinuation of your writer that the English and American commerce would be jeopardised by Japan's victory, and, therefore, Japan ought to be thoroughly defeated, is a most absurd proposition. To begin with, Japan's victory would never prejudice the commercial interests of those countries; on the contrary, they would be more safeguarded. But suppose it did, it would be for England and America to look after those matters before the Russians did for them. England and America, however, are amongst those countries which are most sympathetic with Japan. I can put it in another way. Suppose, after Japan's success in this war, Japan's industry should be more developed, it would only serve more to stimulate the commerce between the East and West. Supposing, however, that the development of Japan's industry be more or less detrimental to the Western commerce, is it just and humane—let me repeat, is it just and humane, to formulate a doctrine that she is to be crushed because there is a fear that her industry might be developed? It would be like a rich person formulating the doctrine that a poor neighbour of his ought to be murdered for no other reason than a vague apprehension that he might possibly become a prosperous man.

'That is what I answered the Russian statesman. But even at this moment such speculative opinions are widespread. I can only hope that Japan's real motive and aspiration for emulating occidental civilisation is now becoming better known to the Western nations, at all events to the bulk of the French people.'

—'I believe so, too,' said the duchess. 'But one thing which strikes me is that, while on the one hand many people depict Japan by her huge shadow, even a greater number of people speak of Japan as a small country, as though she were no more than Belgium, Holland, or Denmark. A country which competes with the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, France, or even Germany, in the size of her territory and number of population, cannot be a small country.'

—'It is perhaps because we Japanese do not parade ourselves. We prefer to speak of ourselves as small in deference to the modern civilisation of the Western nations. Besides, we are not so wealthy as the occidental nations. We always feel it. It often prevents us from doing better things.'

—'But your country is not poor.'

—'We are not poor. I am only speaking comparatively with the great powers of the West. The volume of our commerce has risen from a few millions to six or seven hundred million yens in less than forty years. In a way we ought to be satisfied.'

—'I suppose the people are happy.'

—'Well, I may say so. We have no very rich classes, but at the same time we have no extreme poverty as yet. Only the other evening a compatriot of mine who had travelled in the country near Tours told me that the common people there lived in small caves in the cliffs, or on the slopes of the hills, and they were all barefooted when they were at home, or were at work in the vintage. I hear there are many such in Britain also.It sounds rather odd for France. And more! Paris is a wonderful town. It is a place of the agglomeration of everything extreme. A little time ago, accompanied by a few Frenchmen, I made a round of visits to all sorts of places through the whole night in order to see Paris by night. I saw many night shows to begin with: I saw many gay places: I saw several dens of the poor. Among the shows, that of Niente struck me most. It seemed so strange to entertain visitors with beer at tables which are coffins, and in a room lighted by a chandelier constructed of human bones. A small cave tavern made right in the ground, where the poor were enjoying bocks of beer, and listening to some indifferent musical performance, was also interesting. I asked from where they got the air into the place. The answer was "nowhere." But what impressed me most was a den of the destitute, where the poor get permission to sleep for one night, and to receive a basin of soup, at a total cost of twopence. When I visited the dens, it was far on in the night. I saw some four or five hundred men, clad in rags most of them, leaning on tables, asleep, in different cellars connected by narrow passages, right deep in the ground. Naturally also many were lying on the ground, and several on the stone staircases. These cellars could not have been made for such a purpose, and I was unable to divine for what they had been originally used. Perhaps they had been the cellars of some great wine merchant. I don't think you yourself can have seen such a place, but you can imagine the awfulness of the sight. Indeed, the French gentleman who was with me said he began to feel upset. I am happy to say that we have not such extreme cases of poverty in our country up to the present generation.'

—'I am afraid it is such cases as these that give good pretext to the socialistic movement,' said the duchess. 'It is a great problem. But to return to our subject, youhave no embassy in Europe, as all other great powers have. You have only legations, with ordinary ministers, like secondary powers. It might have been one cause why ordinary people think Japan is such a small country.'

—'It may be so,' I answered, 'in one way; but you see we have not had any particular reason to make ourselves ostentatious, and besides, the matter does not rest with one side only.'

—'It is rather singular,' said the duchess, 'that the world has not discovered the real character of the Japanese for so long a time. But yet there was at least one man who realised it ninety years ago. I have read an account about him in a recent issue of the English press. It was in the year 1813, and, therefore, at the time when Java was under English occupation. Lord Minto (ancestor of the new viceroy) was then Viceroy of India, and it seems Sir Stamford Raffles was the chief representative of the British East India Company out in the East. The latter sent in that year an Englishman, Dr. Daniel Ainslie, to whom was attached a Dutchman, Wardenaar by name, to Nagasaki on a mission to look after English interests, and to make a confidential report on the situation in Japan. The mission was a failure; the time was not ripe enough. But the impression Sir Stamford obtained through Dr. Ainslie is interesting. It reads as fresh as though it had been brought back from Japan only yesterday, and speaks for itself:

'The refusal of the Japanese, instigated by the prejudiced and stiff-necked Dutchman, Hendrik Doeff, to trade with the English, did not bias Sir Stamford's mind against them. Dr. Ainslie, in whom he had implicit confidence, sent him voluminous reports, and on them he formed a judgment most favourable to the Japanese in every respect. Expression was given to these opinions in Sir Stamford's presidential addressto the Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences on September 11, 1815. The following extracts are those of the most direct importance; "I need only offer a few notices on the character which they appeared to Dr. Ainslie to display during a residence of four months, and as far as he had the opportunity of judging. They are represented to be a nervous, vigorous people, whose bodily and mental powers assimilate much nearer to those of Europe than what is attributed to Asiatics in general. Their features are masculine and perfectly European, with the exception of the small, lengthened Tartar eye, which almost universally prevails, and is the only feature of resemblance between them and the Chinese. The complexion is perfectly fair, and indeed blooming, the women of the higher classes being equally fair with Europeans, and having the bloom of health more generally prevalent among them than is usually found in Europe. For a people who have had very few, if any, external aids, the Japanese cannot but rank high in the scale of civilisation....'"The Chinese have been stationary, at least as long as we have known them, but the slightest impulse seems sufficient to give a determination to the Japanese character which would progressively improve until it attained the same height of civilisation with the European....'"The Japanese, with an apparent coldness like the stillness of the Spanish character, and derived nearly from the same causes—that system of espionage and that principle of disunion dictated by the principles of both Governments—are represented to be eager of novelty and warm in their attachments, open to strangers, and, hating the restrictions of their political institutions, a people who seem inclined to throw themselves into the hands of any nation of superior intelligence. They have, at the same time, a great contempt and disregard of everything below their own standard of morals and habits, as instanced in the case of the Chinese."'These remarks, uttered ninety years ago, show that at least one discerning mind had appreciated all the difference between the Japanese and other Asiatics, judged according to the accepted views among Europeans. It was the apathy of the home authorities that alone prevented the establishment nearly a century ago of anentente cordialebetween England and Japan as the consequence of the strenuous effort ofSir Stamford Raffles to promote commercial relations at Nagasaki.'

'"The Chinese have been stationary, at least as long as we have known them, but the slightest impulse seems sufficient to give a determination to the Japanese character which would progressively improve until it attained the same height of civilisation with the European....

'"The Japanese, with an apparent coldness like the stillness of the Spanish character, and derived nearly from the same causes—that system of espionage and that principle of disunion dictated by the principles of both Governments—are represented to be eager of novelty and warm in their attachments, open to strangers, and, hating the restrictions of their political institutions, a people who seem inclined to throw themselves into the hands of any nation of superior intelligence. They have, at the same time, a great contempt and disregard of everything below their own standard of morals and habits, as instanced in the case of the Chinese."

'These remarks, uttered ninety years ago, show that at least one discerning mind had appreciated all the difference between the Japanese and other Asiatics, judged according to the accepted views among Europeans. It was the apathy of the home authorities that alone prevented the establishment nearly a century ago of anentente cordialebetween England and Japan as the consequence of the strenuous effort ofSir Stamford Raffles to promote commercial relations at Nagasaki.'

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