IV

A talk on brackens--Eating of fruits without peeling--A pet

tortoise--Remarks on languages--Discourses on jiujitsu--Comparison of

jiujitsu and wrestling--Japanese art and the Kokkwa--Pictures in the

Gospel--Discourse on Bushido, its history and the origin of the

term--Explanation of the terms Daimio, Samurai, and Bushi--Its

literature--Japanese revenge and European duel--Japanese sword--Soul of

Samurai--General Stoessel and a broken sword--Discussion on Japanese

social morality--Japan far cleaner than any other nation--The condition

at the time of the transition--General view of the westernised

Japan--Occidental vulgarity

I was at the luncheon table of the Duke and Duchess of Fairfield: quite

_en famille_, there being present only a young nobleman of Italian

descent besides the duke and duchess and their two daughters.

In the course of luncheon, casual mention was made by one of the young

ladies of the fronds of bracken, called _warabi_ in Japan, regarding

which I had made some remarks in England as to its edible properties.

--'I have read in some English papers all that you said about it,' said

the young nobleman; 'and, indeed, most of the French journals have also

reported it since.'

--'Yes, after I had initiated the matter, almost all the English

papers, both in town and country, made some comments. I have even read

that a philanthropic gentleman had reproduced the necessary information

in leaflet form, for distribution amongst the needy people in some parts

of Wales, where there is often a scarcity of food. The starch made from

the roots of bracken is considered in Japan the best, and is used very

widely. There is a similar vegetable called _jemmai_; it is larger than

bracken and used in a dried form. It is very soft and palatable, and is

very extensively used in Japanese cookery. I do not know for certain if

the latter kind exists in Europe, though I believe it does. As to

bracken, it grows everywhere. I am, however, but little sanguine that my

recommendation will be utilised in England, though the method of

preparation is very simple. The secret of the preliminary preparation

lies in soaking it, from ten to fifteen hours in water with soda. I

revealed it from a philanthropic motive. But, you see, the British are

so conservative in such matters. I even noticed, in a newspaper, a

letter wherein the writer stated that he had cooked some bracken, but it

turned out unpalatable, although quite tender. He did not wait to find

out if there might not be room for improvement in his method of cooking:

people are so apt to discredit others before they make sure of a fact.'

--'That is generally the case in this world,' said the duchess; 'but I

wonder if French bracken is equally good.'

--'Surely it is,' I replied, 'even that in the neighbourhood of Paris:

the bracken in Fontainebleau forests is said to be very fine. Only in

May last, a number of Japanese ladies in Paris made a special excursion

there, and brought back bunches of it. I was one of those who enjoyed

the dishes resulting.'

--'You may be sure it is a subject that will be taken up, when the

semi-famine days come, and then, perhaps, your name will be remembered,'

remarked one of the young ladies.

--'No, I think not,' I replied. 'I believe, I shall be buried long

before that, and my name too.'

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

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

--'I will tell you an incident which will probably interest you. I was

spending a week-end with the Dake and Duchess of Hamilton, who have

always been very courteous to me. One morning, at the breakfast table, I

noticed the duchess cut an apple, and gave it to her young son without

peeling. This rather struck me, so I asked her reason, when she told me

that her medical adviser had instructed her to do so, because the

essence of the nourishing part of the fruit was contained just under the

skin, so that it was better not to remove the skin. It was quite a

relief to me (for we men, and especially myself, often find it

troublesome to pare fruit). Now I could eat fruit without paring the

skin unconcernedly, and should any onlooker laugh at me, or ask the

reason, I could lecture him from the point of medical science.'

--'You always view things from a point of vantage,' interposed the

younger daughter.

We went into the garden, and took our coffee there in a shaded corner.

Meanwhile I noticed a little puppy looking up at us from a corner of the

turf. It did not move, and I soon discovered it was porcelain.

--'Ah, I see, I thought it was a live dog when I was here last. It was

towards evening, just as I was leaving when I noticed it.'

At this moment a servant brought in a tortoise: it was a very large one

and quite tame. The duchess fed it with lettuce, saying:

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

other vegetable.'

--'I have seen many tortoises,' I said, 'but this is the first time I

have seen one as a pet. In Japan, one sees in the ponds or small lakes

round the temples, hundreds, nay, thousands, floating in the water, or

lying on rocks or boards basking in the sun. Their preservation is

chiefly due to the customary kindness and religious sentiment of the

Japanese.'

I then told the duchess what I knew of tortoises and their habits,

remarking that those amphibians lived more in the water than on land,

and it was necessary for them to be put in the water at least

occasionally.

And so the soft summer evening glided away as we passed from one topic

of conversation to another.

--'Do you find European languages very difficult to learn?' asked one of

the young ladies. 'I suppose there is no similarity between our language

and yours?'

--'None whatever,' I replied, 'and we certainly find them very

difficult to acquire. The difference between the various European

languages might perhaps be compared to the difference between a horse

and a mule, while the difference between Japanese and the European

languages would certainly not be closer in comparison than a horse to an

ox. That is to say, the former differs only in species, and the latter

in kind. Hence you can easily see how much more difficult it is for an

Oriental to learn any European language, than a European to learn a

second European language. Even amongst the European languages, there

are, as you know, many idioms differing one from the other, and

consequently difficult to understand. Only the other day I was not a

little amused at a French translation of the English sentence "hold

good" in the sense that "one thing had an advantage over another." You

can imagine how much more difficult it is for a Japanese to know the

value of every word, not to say an idiom, of a European language. Once

in Japan, I was watching some European and Japanese children playing

Hide-and-Seek together. The European children were making use of the

Japanese words meaning "Hot and Cold" in place of "Far and Near." I

could only make out what they meant after I had carefully watched the

game. I am sure we commit similar errors every day when speaking in a

foreign language. More than thirty years ago a party of Japanese

ambassadors, including the present Marquis Ito, whom you know, and their

suites, made a round trip through America and Europe: perhaps the duke

remembers it. The mayor of a large manufacturing town in England, which

a portion of the party were visiting, invited the visitors to the play.

The party was divided into two and occupied two boxes opposite each

other. The mayor and his wife were in a box and their daughter in the

other. An Englishman who was in the mayor's box remarked to a Japanese

guest, of an eminent fellow-guest seated beside the young lady opposite,

"Monsieur K. must be very happy," meaning, no doubt, to pay a compliment

indirectly to the mayor and his wife; but the Japanese to whom the

remark was addressed understood but little English and replied: "K. must

be quite ashamed."

--'It spoilt everything. In our language the word meaning "shame" and

"bashfulness" are identical and the sense is only modified by a slight

difference in construction. A somewhat similar example is the great

difference in the meaning between the phrases _fâché contre_ and _fâché

de_. The results of the misconstruction, as may be imagined, were rather

serious. It was only made good by another Japanese who made a timely

explanation. I heard this incident direct from that gentleman who made

the explanation. That incident clearly demonstrates how difficult and

delicate it is to express oneself in a tongue other than one's own.'

--'Exactly,' interposed the young nobleman. 'It is always necessary to

make much allowance for a foreigner, and to make a guess at his

meaning.'

--'The jiujitsu is being exhibited once more in France,' said the

duchess. 'I have seen several advertisements in to-day's papers, one of

which states that a physician asked the exhibitor to demonstrate on him,

and afterwards declared it quite scientific. People in France know very

little of that art.'

--'No wonder,' I answered; 'even in England, where jiujitsu is so much

spoken of, it was very little known until quite recently. Not many years

ago a lecture on the subject, accompanied by some practical

demonstrations, was delivered at a literary society, by a Japanese

gentleman, assisted by another Japanese. On that occasion a weekly paper

of high reputation commented upon the art, saying that there was nothing

in it. The writer added that jiujitsu was exactly the same as the

English wrestling, with a few different tricks.'

--'Is there much difference between the two?'

--'Yes, there is a great difference. Of course the combatants in both

exercises strive to get the upper hand of each other, but the great

difference is that the wrestling relies chiefly on strength, whilst

jiujitsu depends on all sorts of tricks, based upon a careful study of

physical organism, and therefore physical strength may be said to be of

little value, nay, in truth, it uses the strength of the opponent

against himself. We, in Japan, have also a method of competition

resembling the wrestling of the West, and we apply to that the Western

name "wrestling." We do not like our jiujitsu to be confounded with it,

though Western people sometimes call it by that name. When our jiujitsu

is called "wrestling," it hurts our feelings a little.'

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

--'Well, nothing very serious, but the reason is this: jiujitsu has

always been regarded in Japan as an art chiefly practised by men of the

higher classes. It has never been a profession, still less a public

show, and the reason why now and then the art is made an object of

exhibition in a public hall of the Western towns, is only an outcome of

the altered conditions of the time. On the other hand, the wrestling

which we call Sumoo has always been a profession and for public

entertainment for many centuries.'

--'I see.'

--'It must, however, be understood that even wrestling is not

considered a low profession, and though it is exhibited to the public,

is very different from other kinds of shows--those, for instance, given

at a fête. Wrestling in Japan has a very remote origin. In its earlier

stage it was not a profession, it was one of the military sports, but as

time went on it became a regular profession. Tokio is the centre of the

Wrestling Association, and therefore it has the best wrestlers. Osaka

comes next. The wrestlers are brought up and trained from boyhood:

promising youths are picked up from all parts of the country by the

principal wrestlers and taken into their private halls. There are two

principal exhibitions of ten days, one early in the year and the other

early in the summer, held in Tokio, when the rank and order of every

member of the association is determined by competition. In the intervals

they subdivide themselves into several parties and go about the country

exhibiting their art. Men are very fond of seeing the wrestling, though

very few women care to see it; in fact, it is only of recent date that

one observes any women at all at such exhibitions, and those only of

indifferent standing. It is not considered good taste. The last point

excepted, wrestling in Japan resembles somewhat a bull-fight in Spain. I

do not mean the sport itself, but in the sense of its being a national

institution. From this fact you may see that we have more and better

wrestlers than you in the West. Sometimes Western wrestlers come to

Japan and challenge our wrestlers, but they are no match for ours. It is

not worth boasting about, I merely state the fact. Of course, there is

also much wrestling in country parts, and young people often perform,

but they are, after all, only amateurs. As to jiujitsu, the art has been

studied by the Samurai in a similar manner to fencing, with no

professional performance or public show. Hence a great difference in the

social position of jiujitsu experts and wrestlers. Nevertheless, the

wrestlers maintain some trace of their ancient standing, for their

position even now is regarded as superior to actors or the geisha,

though good actors are rapidly gaining a social position.'

--'Is jiujitsu as old as wrestling?'

--'No, it is not. Jiujitsu is not quite three hundred years old, since

it has been systematised into an art. There are many schools, I mean

styles, of jiujitsu, and naturally some are older than others. They

differ somewhat from one another, the difference having arisen chiefly

from the endeavour of the founders to make improvements.'

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

--'The masters call it an art of self-defence. You see, our Samurai do

not like to be arrogant or offensive to other people, and therefore they

profess to use jiujitsu only when attacked, hence the name of

self-defence, and this point is one of their ideals; but as a matter of

fact, it is an art that can be used for attack equally well, and

therefore may be called an art both offensive and defensive. The

advantage of knowing this art is that we can throw an opponent without

hurting or killing him, because it requires no weapons, not even a

stick. It is done by catching hold of various parts of the opponent by

the hands. Of course, there are many tricks, and therefore, if both

parties be equally efficient in the art, the combat becomes very

complicated. The term jiujitsu literally means "soft art," or an art

accomplished by "sleight of body," as some people put it, so much so

that one school is called "The Willow Mind Style." We have a saying, "A

willow knows not a breaking by snow," meaning that a slender branch of a

willow is stronger than a branch of a robust tree like the pine, an

analogy showing that flexibility is often stronger than stubbornness.

'From all this it may well be imagined that a slender and small man,

without any perceptible physical strength, can often become a great

master of the art. Once at Shanghai, a Japanese who understood jiujitsu

well was attacked by a group of Chinese roughs in the middle of a

bridge, but he threw them all, one after the other, since when no

Chinaman attempts to attack a Japanese, concluding wisely that we may

all be masters of the art. Once in England--I believe it was in

Newcastle--a number of roughs attacked a Japanese; he threw them all,

one after the other, and went off. The roughs were taken into custody by

constables, when they confessed that they would not have attacked the

man had they known he was a Japanese, and they believed that all

Japanese knew the "devilish trick of wrestling," as they called it. You

now see the nature of our jiujitsu, I suppose.'

--'And suppose your best wrestler and a jiujitsu man encountered?' asked

one of the young ladies.

--'A wrestler is no match for a jiujitsu man. A wrestler who can lift

up a big stone, or catch hold of a bull by its horns, would be easily

beaten by a youth of fourteen scarcely able to lift a small cannon ball,

provided the boy were well trained in jiujitsu. In wrestling, therefore,

all jiujitsu tricks are forbidden. This will explain why no Occidental,

even a champion wrestler, has ever succeeded in defeating a Japanese

jiujitsu man. Perhaps you remember one of our jiujitsu men, who is in

England, won the Gold Championship Cup last year, and yet in Japan he is

not considered a first-class man in the art. I do not, however, wish to

boast of the matter. Even amongst the most undeveloped tribes one

sometimes sees the greatest possible skill shown in such matters,

especially in the use of the bow and arrow. I hear American Indians

shoot fishes in the rivers with arrows, and that too not by aiming

direct, but by sending arrows up in the air and letting them fall in the

water. They do not shoot direct, because, as you know, the curve of

sight in water is very different from that in plain air.'

--'I understand that,' said the duchess, 'but your jiujitsu seems to be

very different from mere skill. It is the result of a long and

deliberate study of physical organism, systematised upon a scientific

basis, as the physician in the paper says.'

--'Maybe,' I answered.

--'But what is that book which you have brought with you?' asked the

duchess.

--'It is the book I promised you the other day. It is the _Kokkwa_, a

monthly on art. It contains, as you see, very good photogravures and

chromographs of our old _objets d'art_.'

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

--'You told me the other day, _apropos_ of the conversation of the

Marchioness Vivastine and myself, that you were also an admirer of our

art, and that you appreciated Utamaro and Hokusai. No doubt they were

great artists, and I am delighted, of course, with your appreciation,

but we should be sorry if they stood to you for the best that we can do

in art. This monthly will give you a good idea why I say so.'

All present were interested in the book, and its pages were gently

turned over one by one. Presently the duchess remarked:

--'Do you mean to say that the originals of these illustrations date

back thirteen centuries?'

--'Indeed, I do,' I replied.

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

--'Yes, surely.'

--'What a softness and feeling here! Look!' the duchess went on; 'and

how this part resembles classic Italian.'

--'The art of printing,' I said, 'is well developed in Japan. The other

day I showed a copy of the _Financial and Economical Annual_ of Japan to

a Frenchman, and he thought the printing was very neat and clear, and

could scarcely believe that the book had been printed in my country.'

--'I can quite realise the scepticism of that person; but can you give

me a rough idea of your ideal of pictures?'

--'That's a rather difficult question. In your sacred book you have a

picture where Christ talks about "lilies." He stands in a field, utters

His words, pointing to some pure white lilies blooming, but not in

abundance, in the field. There is a perfect picture, the symbolic

meaning of the pure white flowers standing out vividly before your eyes.

In another place you see Christ entering a boat on a lake. There is

another picture. A lake calm and serene, surrounded by undulating hills,

perhaps with the shadow of the hills and trees reflected on the surface

of the water. There one or two fishermen handle oars in a fantastic

boat. A sage calls them from the shore to come to Him. A perfect

landscape! An immense expanse and an eternal stillness of the universe

almost unconsciously arises before the mind's eye of the onlooker. Such

is, then, a type of the ideals of our pictorial worlds.'

--'I can well imagine it,' said the young nobleman. 'Your chromographs

of even small objects, such as picture postcards, are very fine and

artistic and, at the same time, so simple. Look at ours: they have

neither feeling nor taste, and usually are showy and gorgeous, and,

indeed, often vulgar.'

--'I must say I agree with you to some extent. I am rather sorry that

such monthly publications as _Kokkwa_ do not pay well in Japan. The

present publisher of the journal is the proprietor of a large newspaper,

and not a regular book publisher. He is himself a great collector of our

_objets d'art_, of which he is very fond, and this is the sole reason

why he took up the publication after it had been nearly discontinued by

its former publisher. He is now trying to see if an English edition of

it will pay, although the end he has in view is to make Japan known to

the West, rather than any pecuniary personal gain. Indeed, it is for

that reason he has sent me this copy, asking me to show it to those who

have a taste for such things. I really think that, for the general good,

the publication is worth continuing.'

--'Certainly,' said the duchess. 'Let me see, it is only two yen per

number, that is five francs per month; cheap enough. I will subscribe at

once.'

The young nobleman now left our party, for he had another engagement. He

has a talent for music, and when a private concert was given only a few

weeks ago in the garden of an aristocratic family which I know, he was

the conductor, although only an amateur. This the young ladies told me,

and the circumstance led me to ask if they also were not musical. One of

them, she told me, played the piano, and the other the violin, and I

said I hoped that one day they would let me have the pleasure of hearing

them. I further said that the piano was only known in Japan to a slight

degree, and that only recently; but that we had always had an instrument

much resembling the violin.

The duke held in his hand an English literary weekly of the highest

repute. Turning to me he said:

--'Look! here is a review of two new books, one on the Bushido by a

Japanese writer, and the other on Japan in general by an American, I

suppose. It is a subject that interests me, as, indeed, it does many

people nowadays. I have read it through and noticed that the reviewer

speaks of Bushido very sarcastically. He says, among other things, that

the discovery of Bushido is of quite recent date, and continues; but

listen, I will read it:

'Neither Sir E. Satow nor Dr. Aston even mentions the word Bushido;

Prof. Chamberlain in his _Things Japanese_ (1898) does not refer to

it; the word is not contained in the admirable dictionary prepared

by Captain Brinkley, the able but intensely Japanicised

correspondent of the _Times_; nor is it to be found in the

principal native dictionary, the _Kotoba no Izumi_ ("Source of

Language").'

--'What nonsense,' I interrupted; 'by the same analogy one might say,

because there is no compound noun Christian-morality in an English

dictionary, there is no such thing as Christian morality.'

'Bushido, in literal Chinese,' continued the duke, reading, 'is the

way of the executioner, and those who were eye-witnesses of the

tyranny of the Samurai, in the last three years of the Bakufu

[Shogunate], will not regard the name as altogether inappropriate.

The Bushi (a Japano-Chinese, but not Chineseform), or Samurai, were

neither knights nor knightly; they were "followers" merely; many,

if not most of them, petty officials, few of them for two hundred

and fifty years possessed any military experience whatever.'

--'How ridiculous,' I interrupted; 'but I cannot make out what the

reviewer could have got into his head to make him translate the term

Bushi as "executioner." It is an insult to Bushi, of whom we have the

oft-quoted saying, "Hana wa sakura ni hitowa bushi": "As the cherry

blossoms are the prime of the flowers, so the Bushi is the flower of

man." We have a popular drama in which there is a scene where a female

prisoner is brought out under the superintendence of a common Bushi; and

there the phrase "Keigo-no-Bushi" occurs, meaning, the Bushi who guards.

Perhaps the reviewer remembered it, and concluded that Bushi meant an

executioner, because he had charge of a prisoner. If this is so, by the

same analogy we might say the "Knight of the Garter" is a domestic

servant who looks after his mistress's garter. Ah! there is another

thing which occurs to me. In China, where military men are little

thought of, they are often used for such duties as those of an

executioner; some foreigners, who had seen the fact whereby those men

were called Bushi, perhaps thought that the term meant "executioners"

without knowing its primary meaning. By that analogy one might say that

gentlemen belonging to the honourable guild known as "The Worshipful

Company of Grocers of the City of London" were common dealers in tea and

sugar, because they are called grocers, without knowing the origin of

the term. The passages in that review accidentally caught my sight too,

and out of curiosity I looked the matter up in a few books which I

happened to have by me. It is a little technical, but if you do not

mind, I will explain it to you in detail.'

--'Please do,' said the duke.

--'The word Bushi is a noun composed of two Chinese characters, _bu_

and _shi_, both having a distinct meaning. _Bu_ means military or

martial when used as an adjective, but it is also very commonly used as

a concrete noun; and in that case it may be translated as martialism.

When used as a noun it is used in contradistinction to _bun_. The last

word may be translated as "civil," but I am unable to find out an exact

equivalent in the Western terms, because the Western term "civil," still

less the term "civism," does not convey the true idea of the word. It

may, however, be taken to signify things or affairs on civil lines, as

contrasting with those on military lines. _Shi_ means a man of position

or a gentleman, which came by evolution to mean a military man rather

than a civilian. These two words, _bu_ and _shi_, were put together and

made a compound noun, signifying professional military people. The term

has been most commonly used in Japan for over ten centuries. There are

two other terms, Bundo and Budo, the former means principle, or

doctrine, or teaching, or ways of affairs on civil lines, and the latter

means the same on martial lines. They are very antique terms,

contradistinguishing each other. The term Bushido is not so ancient as

those two, but still it is by no means modern. The term Budo is used

when one wishes to refer the matter more to the system or the principle

as a unit; and the term Bushido is used when one wishes to designate

more the individuals. In China the term Bushi had existed, as is natural

from the antiquity of her history, many centuries before it did in

Japan; I have seen it used in the history of the Hung dynasty. The term

of course signifies military men; nevertheless, it has not acquired so

much prominence as it has done in Japan, because in China military men

have never attained the same importance and organisation as in Japan,

and naturally enough there exists in China no such term as Bushido in

its concrete sense, Bushido being peculiarly unique to the Japanese.

Bushido consists of three Chinese characters, as the reviewer says. In

the colloquial Japanese it is read as Bushi-no-michi, _do_ being the

Chinese way of pronunciation, and _michi_ being the colloquial Japanese

pronunciation of the one and the same character; and therefore _do_ and

_michi_ are both the same thing. In _Hogen Monogatari_, an historical

record of the events which took place in the middle of the twelfth

century A.D., and written not longer after that period, a great hero,

Tametomo, is represented to have said, in the course of a speech, as

follows:

'For a Bushi, an act of killing is inevitable. Nevertheless

Bushi-no-michi [_i.e._ Bushido] forbids to kill an unfit object,

and therefore, though I have fought more than twenty battles, and

put an end to countless lives, I have always fought legitimate

foes, and not illegitimate foes [in modern phraseology combatants

and non-combatants]. And more! I have neither killed a deer nor

fished a fish.

'In the fourteenth century A.D., a book called _Chiku-ba-sho_ (the

reminiscence of the bamboo-horse), which is ethical teaching for Bushi,

was written by Shiwa Yoshimasa, a Japanese general, born 1349, died 1410

A.D.

'Within the last three hundred years, when Bushido has made a great

systematic progress on its literary and intellectual side, many

treatises on the subject have been written by eminent scholars and

expounders of that doctrine. Nakaye-toju, born in 1608 A.D., wrote a

book called _Questions and Answers on Bun and Bu_, in which the terms

Bundo and Budo are used. In the collection of the epistles of Kumazawa

Banzan, born 1619 A.D., the same terms are much used. In _Lectures by

Yamaga Soko_, who was born in 1622, and was the founder of a school of

our military science, there is one part called Shido. Shido and Bushido

are one and the same thing, for the term _bu_ is added to _shi_ when one

particularly wishes to denote the idea of the military profession. Thus,

for instance, the old class of Samurai is now known as Shizoku, and not

as Bushi-Zoku. Kaibara Yekken, born 1630 A.D., wrote a book called

_Bukum_, namely, "Instructions on Bu," in which the term Bushi-no-michi

is freely used. The _Elementary Lessons on Budo_ is a book written by

Daidoji Yiuzan, born 1639. In that book the term Bushido is freely used,

and we see therein such phrases: "What is most important in Bushido is

the three conceptions of loyalty, justice, and bravery"; and "if a Bushi

comprehend the two opposing notions of justice and injustice, and

endeavour to do justice and refrain from doing injustice, Bushido will

be attained." Izawa Hanrioshi, born 1711 A.D., published a book called

_Bushikun_, namely, "Instructions for Bushi." In that book, also, the

term Bushi-no-michi is repeatedly used, and at the end of the fourth

volume of it there is a short postscript in which he says:

'These four volumes have been written to record the outlines of

Bushido, in order to supplement the points left untouched in books

published in recent generations, such as ... so that one must not

say after reading this book that it is not minute.

'I could mention several more books, but I might weary you. The names I

have just cited are, in Japan, no less household words than Voltaire or

Rousseau in France, and Johnson or Goldsmith in England. Satow, Aston,

Chamberlain, or Brinkley might not have had time enough to touch upon

the Bushido, but if one says that because they have not touched upon it

there is no such thing as Bushido in Japan, it is tantamount to saying

that there is no such thing as a diamond in South Africa because some

travellers have not mentioned it in their diaries.'

--'You appear always to be making use of the names Bushi and Samurai

indiscriminately. No doubt they signify one and the same category of

people. But what is the difference?'

--'You are right in raising that question. The term Samurai is a pure

and simple Japanese word, derived from a verb meaning "to wait" or "to

serve." In ancient times military men on guard at the Imperial palace

were called by that name; but when one wished to make the appellation

more concise and appear more scholastic, the term Bushi was used. The

Chinese character Shi is uniformly translated in Japanese as Samurai,

but one preferred to employ the term Bushi more commonly because it gave

more prominence to the military calling. At first the guards were

recruited from ordinary people, but in course of time the recruiting

became hereditary in certain families. They also began gradually to form

a sort of class in different provinces, having their leaders, and at

last formed a regular class of military men. Those men were universally

called Bushi, and their families, when collectively spoken of, were

called _Buke_ namely, "Houses of Bu."'

--'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 to _Kuge_, 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. In the 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 on endlessly, 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 work of 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 was published in the London _Punch_ representing

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 the muddy 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 naba

Inorazu totemo kami ya mamoran.

(If only one's thoughts be in accord

With 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 word _lie_ is 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 word _lie_ is 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 seems to

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 England and 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 to repay 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 is _that_ Japan 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 commerical status 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 the _Far 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 say _au revoir_'

V

Some observations on peace prospects--Discussion on

Anglo-French-Russo-Japanese _entente_--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 tea _en famille_ in 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, and would 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 an _entente_ Anglo-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 the _Deutsche Revue_, stating Russian views which to

our eyes were of the most fantastic character. My answer to it was

published in the same _Revue_, 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, I repeat 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 your country

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 to _morale_.'