III

Japanese art and the West--Night-fêtes--Sale of flowers and

plants--Singing Insects--A discussion on the moon, flowers,

snow, etc.--Music of snow and rain--Lines on hailstones--A

particular evening for lunar perspective--A blind scholar

and his wife--The deaf, dumb, and blind of Japan--The calendar

and its radical change in Japan--Calumnies on Japan, and an

anonymous letter--Japanese ways of counting ages--The question

of women and a lady's opinion on Japanese women--Lafcadio

Hearn--Japanese names--Difficulty of distinguishing between

'L' and 'R'--Discussion on pronunciation--London and Tokio

patois--Japanese nobility and the method of addressing nobility

--Books on Japan--Once more on Lafcadio Hearn--Discussion on

women's education--_The Risen Sun_

Time and space in dreamland have become more inconsecutive, and events

have crowded rapidly one on another. In dreamland, moreover, one

frequently sees in an incongruous group people who in ordinary life

seldom come into contact with one another. Such is my experience.

Now I found myself guest at a reception given by a lady whose residence

was in the neighbourhood of the Grand Opera, where I met a number of

authors and critics of both sexes. Then at our Legation, near the l'Arc

de Triomphe, where I was spending the evening in a large company, which

included several ladies of my own country. Again at the soirée of an

association interested in things Japanese, where also were members of

both sexes, and then, hey presto! all these events and places would

transform themselves into one single scene, as though they had been but

one and the same gathering.

I remember well that at the meeting of the association a special toast

was proposed after dinner by the president in my honour, to which I

responded, saying how much I thanked its members for their sympathy for

Japan. The little which Japan had been made known to France, or perhaps

to Europe, was largely due to the appreciation of the Japanese arts by

those present, and some others who had preceded them, such as MM. Bing

and Guimet. I also said that a nation having an art such as ours, though

perhaps not equal to the best arts of Europe, could not be so savage and

wild as many calumniators represent, and further, that I wished

Frenchmen, and indeed Europeans generally, would study and examine Japan

a little more, and cast away their prejudices. I also remarked _en

passant_ that the oriental section of the Louvre was anything but strong

in Japanese _objets d'art_, Japanese painting was scarcely represented

at all. Other conversations that I had were an agglomeration, so that I

cannot remember where and with whom they were held.

--'By the bye, have you seen the fêtes of Neuilly?' asked a lady.

--'Yes, I have seen them,' I answered; 'but the place was so crowded, I

could scarcely stand. It was interesting to watch the common people

enjoy themselves. One thing which struck me most in the fête was that

there were so many _ménage aux chevaux_ (roundabouts) without any horses

at all. All the objects on which people were riding were other

animals--even pigs, the dirtiest animal on earth.'

--'But pigs are considered objects of luck.'

--'Ah! that's an ideal notion of the civilised people, I presume.'

--'Have you any similar fêtes in your country?'

--'Yes, we have. In Tokio, especially, we have fêtes very similar

almost all the year round, though not on so large a scale as your

night-fêtes of Neuilly. In Tokio there are one or two fêtes in the same

night in some quarters of the town. There are many small shrines in

different parts of Tokio, and the fêtes are nominally in their honour. I

say nominally, because most people who go there, go to see the sights or

the pretty things rather than to do homage to the shrines. Each of these

shrines has a certain day which is kept in its honour. In our fêtes the

things most sold are small plants and flowers with their roots, so that

they may be planted as they are! They are taken to the fêtes by

gardeners living in the suburbs, who make this kind of business their

regular occupation, and therefore the occasion is more properly

considered as the gardeners' evening. Sweets, toys, and small light

objects for domestic use are sold, and there are different kinds of

entertainments as well. The nature of your evening fêtes seems very

different. In fact, I have not seen any plants or flowers sold there.'

--'The difference seems remarkable; but what do you do with those plants

and flowers?'

--'There is a difference between our common people and yours. You see

the bulk of those who frequent the fête in Tokio are ordinary

townspeople. They buy the plants or flowers for a small sum of money;

when first offered for sale a high price is asked, but it is quite an

understood thing to bargain and at last to buy at a very low price. The

more advanced the evening, the cheaper one can get them. The bargaining

at these fêtes is so lively that it has become proverbial, and people

often say, this or that is not like buying night-fête plants. It is,

however, a mistake if one were to suppose bargaining is a common thing

at every shop in Japan, as in Italy or Egypt. Well, these people,

however moderate their means, purchase one or other of the plants or

flowers and take them home, and plant them either in their small gardens

or in pots and vessels, and place them in their rooms. Some plants or

flowers are already planted in a tasteful manner in pots or vessels of

different shapes, so that they may be used as they are. The people are

very happy with these objects. In summer and autumn all sorts of singing

insects[1] are sold in pretty little cages. In the Orient, unlike in the

Occident, the term insect itself is very poetic, and conveys more of the

significance of the singing than of the object itself.'

--'I have always heard that your people in general are very artistic,'

said she. 'I should like to follow their sentiments in regard to nature.

For instance, when we look at the moon we sometimes become very

sentimental.'

--'You mean in such cases as the night-scene where sweet Jessica and her

lover Lorenzo sang "In such a night, in such a night as this."'

--'Exactly.'

--'Well, in that respect,' I answered, 'we are perhaps more developed

than other peoples. Even the etymology of our language proves it. We

have such terms as Hanami, that is a flower-seeing; Tsukimi, that is

moon-seeing; and Yukimi, that is, snow-seeing. You have phrases such as

"to see the flowers," "to see the moon," and "to see the snow," but

these are hardly an equivalent. Our phrases imply a deeper feeling, both

poetical and artistic; may even imply an act of seeing those objects in

the company of congenial friends. The snow is, as I indicated, one of

these sights. _Apropos_ of snow, I went to Richmond once in company with

a few compatriots, to see the snow-scene in the park there, whence one

commands a beautiful view of the river Thames. Many years afterwards I

was asked if we had snow in my country (you know this kind of question

is asked of us very often). I answered "Yes." Thereupon a lady, who

happened to remember that I had gone to Richmond to see the snow there

years ago, abruptly remarked, "Oh! I thought you had no snow in your

country." When I replied, "What makes you think so," she said, "Because

you went to Richmond on purpose to see the snow." I had then to explain

that our excursion to Richmond was not because we did not know what snow

was, but because we liked to see the sight. We do not get tired of

seeing such scenes any more than you Europeans get tired of going to the

opera, to see, or rather to hear the same opera over and over again, as

for instance _Faust_.'

--'But at the opera we can satisfy our sense of sight as well as that of

hearing,' said a young lady, 'but what of the snow! It has no colour,

being white,--it has no sound: besides, the season must be cold and the

very sight of it must be chilling.'

--'You are partly right, I admit, but is not white the very ideal of

purity? Are you not very fond of it? Do not you ladies like wearing pure

white dresses? Are you not wearing one at this very moment? We Japanese

are very fond of white. The ideal colour of Shintoism is white.

According to that creed, even for mourning, white is preferred to black.

It suggests a notion of cleanliness, which is the essence of the creed.

Besides, you cannot surely say opera boxes are ideally comfortable. They

are not cold, it is true, but certainly they are generally stifling. One

sees there scenery, but what is it compared with the grandeur of nature.

Then again, you cannot exactly say snow has no sound. We, in our poetry,

speak of the music of falling snow, or the music of dropping rain. Those

sounds are considered especially musical in the depth of night: we even

poetise the sounds of falling hailstones. There is a well-known poem on

a hailstorm composed some seven centuries ago. It is a short poem, as

ours usually are, but to us it gives a deep impression, and animates a

martial spirit. It is difficult to translate, but it runs somewhat like

this:

"Oh see in this wilderness of vast Nasu

How the hailstones dash on the frozen ground!

And ring on the gauntlets of hunters bold

As they draw their arrows from leathern fold!"

--'Many hundred years after this poem was composed, when our country was

enjoying a perfect peace, a well-known statesman, reflecting on that

poem, gave his own bent of thought, as follows:

"Not knowing the age when hailstones rang

On the gauntlets of warriors' hands;

Warmly enveloped I lay me down,

Listening all night to their dropping sound."

--'_Apropos_ of hailstones, what a strange occurrence it was the other

day, when hailstones ravaged the vicinity of Paris, and that too in the

height of summer. I met a compatriot and his wife, now staying near St.

Germain, at a small gathering on the evening of the same day, and they

described the size of the stones and the damage done to the glass of the

different houses. At first no one present believed them, but my friends

did their best to explain that some of the stones they picked up and put

on a tray were still large when they had left their home several hours

afterwards. What they said was perfectly true, for I read in the papers

next morning that in some places the hailstones were like eggs and

weighed on an average from twenty to forty grammes; some even two

hundred grammes. But ah! how silly I am to tell you all this, as you

must all be well aware of it.'

--'Never mind,' said those present, 'but please proceed with your

discourse.'

--'Well, there is a particular night of the year which is considered the

best for the moon-scene; the 15th of August by the Lunar Calendar. The

people generally get up a small social gathering to celebrate that

evening. It was on one of those occasions that Hanawa, the celebrated

blind scholar of Japan, gently sang as he sighed:

"If it were a flower, I might touch it."

'The line does not sound very sympathetic when translated into a foreign

language, but in the original Japanese it is full of poetry, and the

meaning is understood that he could not even console himself by the

sense of touch. The remark was overheard by his wife, who pathetically

joined him by singing:

"This Moon! 'tis the night that makes blind men's wives weep."

--'Very fine and pathetic; but you said just now "celebrated blind

scholar,"' remarked a lady. 'What do you mean by that? Do you mean to

say he was a blind poet like Homer?'

--'No, he was not exactly a poet, but a great scholar. In England there

was a celebrated blind scholar, Fawcett, and Hanawa was our Fawcett. He

was a Professor under the Shogunate Government, and one of the best and

largest collections of rare old Japanese books made by him was his

crowning achievement, and we are all much indebted to him.'

--'I suppose there are as many blind, deaf, and dumb in your country as

in any other?' asked another; 'and what do they do, or rather, what do

you do with them?'

--'There are some deaf, dumb, and blind schools at present, and those,

among them, who are fortunate, are educated there as in Europe. There

was no such school in former days, but much care was taken of the blind,

even more than at present.'

--'In what way?' asked she.

--'In former days the blind had several privileges. In the first place,

there was a special order consisting of several degrees, which was

bestowed on meritorious blind people; next, there was a law which

protected blind men when lending money, so that they had great facility

in getting their dues paid, inasmuch as a lay debtor was summarily

ordered to pay any claim raised by a blind man. Then the musical

profession was generally assigned to them, thus, the professors of the

Koto, a stringed instrument, were generally blind men, and they had the

privilege of giving out diplomas to their pupils. In the country parts,

blind men were allowed to make a round of visits to the different houses

of the gentry, singing a particular kind of war-song, called "Heike," to

the accompaniment of the Biwa, another kind of stringed instrument. Then

again, the Amma, the Japanese "massage" was mostly the profession of

blind men.'

'You say "blind men," but what of blind women?' asked another.

--'Ah! I was wrong, for I have only spoken of blind men, but blind

women were accounted much the same. But that Japanese Amma, I can never

forget it, especially after hard work when one's muscles have become

stiffened. It is such a soothing remedy. In Europe massage is used only

for people who have some ailment, but in Japan ordinary people very

commonly make use of it, and consequently a large number of blind people

follow that occupation. The protection of the blind under the old régime

was, of course, good in its aim, but it produced some abuse, and,

besides, the great change of all methods of administration also affected

the privileges given them. There is no longer any order bestowed on

them, nor any special protection given to blind money-lenders, but in

other respects their occupations remain pretty much the same.'

--'You have just spoken of lunar months of August,' said another: 'here

in Paris the Russian Embassy and the Chinese Legation celebrate their

New Year each differently from ours. Russia still sticks to the old

style of calendar though solar; and China seems to hold to the lunar.

How is it with you? Your calendar does not seem to differ from ours.'

--'Yes, our calendar at present is exactly the same as yours,' I

answered. 'It used to be lunar, as is the Chinese, but it is now

thirty-four years since we adopted the solar by a stroke of the pen,

that is to say, by an edict of the Emperor. We thought in this world of

cosmopolitanism that it was rather inconvenient for the different

nations to have different calendars, and that it would be expedient to

follow the example of the majority of the nations. We considered it a

bold stroke of policy, but you see all such changes are made subjects of

ridicule, and the Japanese are called mere imitators.'

--'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 are

but 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.