FOREWORD
In writing this book of a journey through Manchuria, Korea and Japan, it is partly a tribute to the hospitality of the Imperial Railway through whose kindness I made the picturesque tour on the track of the fighting line across countries on which so much attention has been focused in these last years, partly to fulfill a pledge made to the Manila Merchants Association, to write in a book of travel through Russia a chapter on Manila, which chapter is the last in the volume.
Among the few treasures which the traveler feels he must carry away from that land of art—Japan—the writer chose a kakemono representing the grim old fighter Ieyasu dressed in his stiff brocade of choice pattern which the elegance of his life demanded.
He sits not on horse, nor in palanquin, but at ease and in reflective mood in his home, his queer head-dress arching out from his falcon-like head, holding in one hand a sword even in this hour of leisure, ready to spring upon his country’s foes, in the other hand a roll of paper, for he was like the great Charlemagne, a man of letters, as well as of battles.
Sensitive, fine and piercing as a blade, is his glance, delicate as a woman in the finish of his attitude, yet commanding, imperious, indomitable and over all and through all, a scholar, not in the infinitesimal detail of the school, but in the magnificent sense of life, one who learns from all experience and progresses through everything and acquires in every phase of fortune and misfortune, leaving to the world the priceless inheritance of such scholarship, hope, faith—nay, charity! What Ieyasu was, so to me seems hisrace, imbued with the large serenity which grasps ages, not minutes; it can conquer, or be conquered, with equal grace, without self-elation, or self-abasement, but with the majestic nature of the true theist and the true altruist advances to its destiny reaching as does all greatness its maturity slowly, until it becomes the master of itself and of others.
The ethical beauty of the home life of Japan, the charming routine of the schools, the fraternal relations in the army and navy, the courtesy between master and servant, in the factory and the shop, and in the home is all delightful to see, and the welcome to the stranger, that finest flower of civilization, as of character, to feel!
The soft grey coloring, the subdued green, the reserve of forest and field, unlike our own exuberant Philippines, at first seem shy, demure, not a little austere, but as you pass the days and nights there the subtle influence of the Northern Italy works its miracle and you yield as every one has before you, captivated by an influence too complex to define. Japan has the “charme intime,” as the French say, the charm which penetrates but holds forever.
Massive, Greek-like Korea and colossal Manchuria, bold, daring as the fastnesses of Asia are, overwhelm the imagination and leave you stirred to their heroic level!
But a glimpse, a panorama of these graphic countries is all these pages can bring.
Each has a magnetism one must experience, and as one New Englander said of his native town, it needs no pennies in their fountains to call you back to retread their sublime and lofty pinnacles, or their exquisite by-paths.
These pages were for the most part published in the daily press of Japan, and were written “en voyage” or within the hospitable doors of the Astor House, Seoul and the Bluff Hotel in Yokohama. They form notes of travel rather than a conventional book.