DEPARTURE FROM AUSTRALIA--CHINA AND JAPAN
Early in 1893 my husband was obliged to resign his Governorship, as our
Welsh agent had died and there were many urgent calls for his presence in
England. The people of New South Wales were most generous in their
expressions of regret, and I need not dwell on all the banquets and
farewells which marked our departure. I feel that all I have said of
Australia and of our many friends there is most inadequate; but though the
people and places offered much variety in fact, in description it would be
most difficult to avoid repetition were I to attempt an account of the
townships and districts which we visited and of the welcome which we
received from hospitable hosts in every place. There were mining centres
like Newcastle where the coal was so near the surface that we walked into
a large mine through a sloping tunnel instead of descending in a cage;
there was the beautiful scenery of the Hawkesbury River, the rich lands
round Bathurst and Armidale and other stations where we passed most
enjoyable days with squatters whose fathers had rescued these lands and
made "the wilderness to blossom like a rose." It often seemed to me that
one special reason why Englishmen in Colonial life succeeded where other
nations equally intelligent and enterprising failed to take permanent root
was the way in which Englishwomen would adapt themselves to isolation. We
all know the superiority of many Frenchwomen in domestic arts, but it is
difficult to imagine a Frenchwoman living in the conditions accepted by
English ladies in all parts of the Empire.
One lady in New South Wales lived fifteen miles from the nearest
neighbour, and her one relaxation after a hard day's work was to hear that
neighbour playing down the telephone on a violin. That, however, was
living in the world compared to the fate of another friend! The husband of
the latter lady was, when we met, a very rich man who drove a four-in-hand
and sent his son to Eton. When they first started Colonial life they lived
for five years a hundred miles from any other white woman. The lady had a
white maid-servant of some kind for a short time at the beginning of their
career, but she soon left, and after that she had only black "gins"
(women). I was told that one of her children had been burnt in a bush
fire, and her brother-in-law was killed by the blacks. Naturally I did not
refer to those tragedies, but I asked whether she did not find the
isolation very trying, particularly the evenings. She said, oh no, she was
so occupied during the day and so tired when the work was over that she
had no time to wish for anything but rest. She was a very quiet, pleasant
woman, a lady in every sense of the word, and one could not but admire the
way in which she had passed through those hard and trying years and
resumed completely civilised existence.
[Sidenote: BUSHRANGERS]
We heard many tales of bushrangers from those who had encountered them or
heard of their performances from friends. It is not very astonishing that
a population largely recruited in early days from convicts should have
provided a contingent of highwaymen. Their two main sources of income
were the oxen and horses which they stole and sold again after
scientifically "faking" the brands, and the gold which they robbed as it
was being conveyed to distant banks.
I have referred to Rolf Boldrewood's hero "Starlight." Certain incidents
of his career were adapted from the life of the most prominent bushranger
Kelly, but whereas Starlight, for the purpose of the story, is endowed
with some of the traits of a fallen angel, Kelly seems to have been a
common sort of villain in most respects, only gifted with exceptional
daring and with that power over other men which is potent for good or
evil. He was described as wearing "armour"; I believe that he protected
himself with certain kitchen utensils under his clothes. In the end, when
hotly pursued by the police, he and his band underwent a regular siege in
a house, but by that time the police were able to bring up reinforcements
by rail, the gang was forced to surrender, and Kelly and others were
executed.
A sordid incident was that on the very night of his execution Kelly's
brother and sister appeared, for money, on the stage in a theatre at
Melbourne!
The railroad was the effectual means of stopping bushranging, both by
facilitating the movements of the police and by enabling gold to be
transported without the risks attendant on coaches, or horsemen who were
sometimes sent by their employers to carry it from place to place. A
gentleman told me how he had been thus commissioned, and being attacked by
a solitary bushranger in a wayside inn, dodged his assailant round and
round a stove and ultimately got off safely.
Bushranging was extinct before our arrival in New South Wales, but Jersey
had one rather curious experience of its aftermath. An old man had
murdered his wife, and, in accordance with the then custom, the capital
sentence pronounced upon him by the judge came before the Governor in
Council for confirmation. Jersey asked the advice of each member in turn,
and all concurred in the verdict except one man, who declined to give an
opinion. After the Council he took my husband aside and told him that he
had not liked to join in the condemnation as he knew the criminal
personally. He added this curious detail. The murderer had formerly been
connected with a gang of bushrangers; he had not actually shared in their
depredations, but he had received the animals they stole, and it was his
job to fake the brands--namely, to efface the names or marks of the proper
owners and to substitute others so that the horses or cattle could not be
identified. The gang was captured and broken up, the members being all
sentenced to death or other severe punishment, but this man escaped, as
his crimes could not be proved against him. Nemesis, however, awaited him
in another form. He kept his faking iron; and when his wife was found
murdered, the fatal wound was identified as having been inflicted with
this weapon, and he was thereby convicted.
[Sidenote: CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE]
Another story of those bygone days, though unconnected with bushranging,
seems worth preservation. A man was found lying dead in the streets of
Brisbane (or some other town in Queensland), and there was no evidence
whatever to show how he had come by this fate, though the fact that his
watch was missing pointed to violence on the part of some person unknown.
A considerable time afterwards certain poor houses were demolished, with
the view presumably to building better ones in their place. Behind a brick
in the chimney of one of these houses was found the missing watch. A
workman who had inhabited the house at the time of the murder was
thereupon arrested, and brought before a judge who had come on circuit.
The workman protested his innocence, saying that he had seen the man lying
in the street and, finding that he was quite dead, appropriated his watch
and took it home to his wife. The woman had told him that he was very
foolish, as if the watch were found in his possession he might be accused
of killing the man, and yielding to her persuasions instead of trying to
sell or wearing it he hid it behind the chimney where it was found. The
story sounded thin, but on hearing the details of place and date the
presiding judge exclaimed that it was true. When a young barrister he
himself had been in the same town, and was running to catch the train when
a man, apparently drunk, lurched against him; he pushed him aside and saw
him fall, but had no idea that he was injured, and hurried on. The workman
was acquitted, and I suppose that the judge acquitted himself!
Space has not admitted any record of our visitors at Sydney, but I must
mention the pleasure which we had in welcoming Miss Shaw who came on
behalf of _The Times_ to examine and report on the Kanaka question. It was
universally allowed that _The Times_ had been very well advised in sending
out so charming and capable a lady. She won the hearts of the Queensland
planters, who introduced her to many sides of plantation life which they
would never have troubled themselves to show a mere man. We gladly
continued in England a friendship thus begun at the Antipodes, none the
less gladly when Miss Shaw became the wife of an equally talented servant
of the Empire, Sir Frederick Lugard.
One year we entertained at Osterley a number of foreign Colonial delegates
and asked representative English people to meet them.
Among our guests were Sir Frederick and Lady Lugard. The latter was seated
between a Belgian, interested in the Congo, and I think a Dutchman. After
dinner these gentlemen asked me in somewhat agitated tones, "Qui etait
cette dame qui etait si forte dans la question de l'Afrique?" and one said
to the other, "Elle vous a bien roule, mon cher."
I explained that it was Lady Lugard, formerly Miss Flora Shaw.
"Quoi--la grande Miss Shaw! Alors cela s'explique," was the reply in a
voice of awe.
In February 1893 Villiers and our younger children left in the _Ophir_
direct for England, accompanied by Harry Cholmondeley, the German
governess, and the servants. My brother remained on the staff of our
successor, Sir Robert Duff. Our eldest daughter, Margaret, stayed with us,
as we contemplated a visit to Japan and a trip across Canada and to
Chicago on our way back, and wished for her company.
We travelled by train to Toowoomba in Queensland, where we slept one
night, and then went on to Brisbane, where we embarked on board the
Eastern Australian ship the _Catterthun_. Brisbane was still suffering
from the after-effects of great floods, and it was curious, particularly
in the suburbs, to see many houses, which had been built on piles to avoid
the depredation of ants, overturned, and lying on their sides like houses
thrown out of a child's box of toys. Nevertheless Brisbane struck us as a
cheerful and prosperous city during our few hours' stay.
[Sidenote: THE GREAT BARRIER REEF]
The voyage through the lagoon of the Great Barrier Reef, though hot, was
most enjoyable. As is well known this great coral reef extends for over
twelve hundred miles in the ocean washing the north-east coast of
Australia. In the wide expanse of sea between it and the mainland ships
can generally sail unvexed by storms, and from a few hours after we left
Brisbane till we reached the mouth of the North Continent that was our
happy condition.
We stopped at one or two coast towns and passed through the very pretty
Albany Passage to the Gulf of Carpentaria, across which we had a perfectly
smooth passage. We then spent a night or two with Mr. Dashwood at Port
Darwin, where we were much interested in the population, partly officials
of the Eastern Extension Cable Company and partly Chinese. Everything has
doubtless changed greatly in the years which have intervened since our
visit. Port Darwin was then the chief town of the Northern Territory of
South Australia--now the Northern Territory has been taken over by the
Commonwealth Government, which appoints an Administrator and encourages
settlement. I hope the settlers will succeed, but Port Darwin remains in
my memory as a very hot place and the European inhabitants as of somewhat
yellow complexion.
The Chinese had a temple or Joss house, attached to which was a sort of
hall in which were stored numerous jars recalling those of the Forty
Thieves, but containing the bones of dead Chinamen awaiting transport to
their own country.
While at Port Darwin Mr. Dashwood very kindly arranged a Corroboree for
us. We were told that this was one of the few places where such an
entertainment was possible. In parts of Australia farther south the
aboriginals have become too civilised, and in the wilder places they were
too shy and would not perform before white men.
The whole thing was well worth seeing. The men were almost naked, and had
with their own blood stuck wool in patterns on their black bodies. They
had tall hats or mitres of bamboo on their heads and carried long spears.
The Corroboree began after dark, and the men shouted, danced, and carried
on a mimic war to the glare of blazing bonfires. A sort of music or
rhythmic noise accompanied the performance caused by weird figures painted
with stripes of white paint who were striking their thighs with their
hands. They looked so uncanny that I could not at first make out what they
were, but was told that they were the women or "gins." The scene might
have come out of the infernal regions or of a Witches' Walpurgis Night.
Next morning my husband wanted to give the performers presents; he was
begged not to give them money, as they would spend it in drink, but he was
allowed to purchase tobacco and tea and distribute packets of these. Most
peaceable quiet men and women tidily dressed came up to receive them, and
it was hardly possible to believe that these were the demoniac warriors
who had thrilled us the night before.
While at Port Darwin we visited the prison, and seven or eight Malays,
under sentence of death for piracy or some similar crime, were paraded for
our inspection. I thought this somewhat hard upon them, but we were
assured that such notice would be rather pleasing to them than otherwise,
and their smiling countenances certainly conveyed that impression. One odd
bit of red-tape was connected with this. Every death-sentence had to go to
Adelaide, then headquarters of the Northern Territory Government, to be
confirmed, but because when Port Darwin was first established it took
many weeks for any communication to go to and fro, no criminal could be
executed till that number of weeks had elapsed, although telegraph or post
could have reported the sentence and received confirmation in days if not
in hours. No doubt all is now different, but I do not suppose that the
criminals objected to the delay.
[Sidenote: COLOURED LABOUR]
Here, as elsewhere in the semi-tropical parts of Australia, the burning
question of coloured labour arose--one wondered, for instance, whether
such labour would not have largely facilitated the introduction of rubber.
Still Australia must, and will, decide this and similar problems for
herself; and if even strictly regulated Indian or kanaka labour would
infringe the ideal of "White Australia," the barrier must be maintained.
Of course our officers on board the _Catterthun_ were white, but the crew
were Chinese. At one time an attempt had been made to prevent their
employment--very much to Captain Shannon's distress, as he loved his
Chinamen. This veto, however, was not in force when we made the voyage,
though the men were not allowed on shore. We had a Chinese Wesleyan
missionary on board, and we were told that when his Wesleyan friends
wanted him to visit them at Melbourne or Sydney (the former, I think) they
had to deposit L100, to be refunded when he returned to the ship, as a
guarantee against his remaining in the country.
At Port Darwin we said a final farewell to Australia and sailed for
Hong-Kong. Our one port of call during this voyage was at Dilli, port of
the Portuguese Colony of Timor. The southern portion of Timor belongs to
the Dutch, but our company was under contract to call at the Portuguese
port, and we suffered acutely in consequence. The Portuguese had owned a
gunboat for five years, during which time they had contrived to knock some
forty-nine holes in its boiler. They had had it once repaired by the
Dutch, but it was past local efforts, so we had to tow the wretched thing
to Hong-Kong, which seriously impeded our progress. The Portuguese could
not even tie it on straight, so after we had gone some distance we had to
send an officer and a carpenter on board. They found the three officers of
the Portuguese Navy who had it in charge prostrate with sea-sickness (not
surprising from the way they were tossing about), so they tied the vessel
properly behind us, left a card, and returned.
Timor was a picturesque mountainous island, but its commerce as far as we
could learn consisted of Timor ponies--sturdy little beasts--and postage
stamps. Of course everyone on board rushed off to purchase the latter for
their collections.
I rode up with one or two companions to a Portuguese monastery on the top
of a hill, where the Father Superior entertained us with exceptionally
good port wine. He said that he and his community educated young native
chiefs. We tried politely to ascertain whether the education was gratis.
The Reverend Father said that the youths did not pay, but each brought
several natives who cultivated the plantations belonging to the monastery
as an equivalent. Presumably this was not slavery, but what a convenient
way of paying school fees! An improvement on Squeers--the scholars learnt,
and their attendants toiled, for the public good.
Timor provided an interesting addition to our passengers in the person of
a Portuguese Archbishop with his attendant priests. I believe that his
Grace had got into some kind of ecclesiastical hot-water and was going to
Macao for inquiry, but I do not know particulars. However, on the Sunday
following our departure from Timor I learnt that our captain would read
the English service and the Chinese Wesleyan would hold one for the crew
on the lower deck. I suggested to the first officer that he should offer
the Portuguese priests facilities for their rites, as it seemed only
proper that all creeds should take part. This was gratefully accepted, but
when a few days later I sent my friend again to propose a service on March
25th (the Annunciation) the padre was quite annoyed, and asked what he
knew about it! My officer piously declared that we knew all about it, but
the Archbishop would have nothing to say to it.
[Sidenote: HONG-KONG]
The only rough part of our whole voyage was some twenty-four hours before
reaching Hong-Kong, and if we had not had the gunboat dragging behind we
should probably have landed before the storm. I was greatly surprised by
the beauty of Hong-Kong. Its depth of colour is astonishing and the
variety of craft and constant movement in the harbour most fascinating. As
viewed from the Peak, it was like a scene from a world-drama in which
modern civilisation and traffic were ever invading the strange and ancient
life of the China beyond. There were the great men-of-war and merchant
ships of the West side by side with the sampans on which thousands of
Chinese made their homes, lived and moved and had their being. To the
roofs of the sampans the babies were tied by long cords so that they might
play on deck without falling into the water. Anyhow, the boys were
securely tied--there seemed some little doubt about the knots in the case
of girls. Then behind the city were the great red-peaked hills which one
sees on screens--I had always thought that they were the convention of the
artist, but no, they were exact transcripts from nature.
Across the harbour lay the British mainland possession, Kowloon, to which
we paid an amusing visit. We were taken by the Commodore of the Station,
and as I believe we did something unauthorised, gratitude forbids me to
mention his name. We entered a Chinese gambling-house, which was very
quaint. There was a high hall with a gallery or galleries running
round--behind were some little rooms with men smoking, I imagine opium. In
the gallery in which we took seats were several people, including Chinese
ladies. On the floor of the hall was a table at which sat two or three
Chinamen who appeared to be playing some game of their own--probably
fan-tan. We were given little baskets with strings in which to let down
our stakes. As we did not know the game and had no idea what we were
backing, we put in some small coins for the fun of the thing, and when we
drew them up again found them agreeably multiplied. I had a shrewd
suspicion that the heathen Chinee recognised our escort and took good care
that we were not fleeced.
The climate of Hong-Kong is said to be very trying, and our brief
experience bore this out. We spent Easter Sunday there, and it was so hot
that attendance in the Cathedral was a distinct effort. A few days later
we went on an expedition to the Happy Valley, and it was so cold that our
hosts handed round orange brandy to keep the party alive.
While we were there our daughter Margaret attended her first "come-out"
ball, and we felt that it was quite an original performance for a
debutante to be carried to Government House in a Chinese chair.
Hong-Kong should be a paradise for the young--there were only nine English
girls in the Colony of age to be invited, and any number of young men from
ships and offices.
[Sidenote: CANTON]
Even more interesting than Hong-Kong was our brief visit to Canton. The
railway from Kowloon to Canton was not then built, and we went by boat up
the Pearl River. Everything was novel to us, including the pagodas on the
banks of the river, erected to propitiate some kind of deities or spirits,
but once there remaining unused, and generally falling into decay. We
reached Canton at daybreak, and if Hong-Kong was a revelation Canton was
still more surprising. The wide river was packed with native vessels. How
they could move at all was a problem: some were propelled by wheels like
water wheels, only the motive power was men who worked a perpetual
tread-mill; the majority were inhabited by a large river population called
the Tankers, who ages before had taken up their abode on boats when driven
by nature or man from land. We were told that they never willingly went
ashore, and when compelled to do so by business, ran till they regained
their floating homes. But not the river alone, the vast city with its
teeming population was so exactly what you see in Chinese pictures that it
appeared quite unreal; for a moment I felt as if it had been built up to
deceive the Western traveller, as houses were erected and peasants dressed
up in the eighteenth century to make Catherine the Great believe in a
prosperous population where none existed.
However, Canton was real, and the more we saw during our short stay the
more were we astonished by pictures awakened to life. We visited a rich
merchant, and his house and enclosed garden, with little bridges,
quaintly trimmed shrubs, and summer-houses in which were seated portly
gentlemen in silk garments and round hats with buttons on the top, had
been transported bodily from the old Chinese wall-paper in my nursery at
Stoneleigh. His wife was escorted into his hall by attendant maidens, but
so thick was the paint on her face and mouth that for her utterance was as
difficult as walking on her tiny feet.
The merchant spoke a little English, but was not very easy to understand.
He showed the charmingly decorated apartments of his "Number One Wife,"
but I am uncertain whether that was the lady we saw or a predecessor, and
in the garden we were introduced to "my Old Brother." We were entertained
with super-fine tea and also presented with some in packets, but we did
not find that pure Chinese tea was altogether appreciated by our friends
in England. We stayed at the Consulate with Mr. Watters; a most
interesting man who, having spent a large portion of his life in China,
had become imbued with much of their idealism, and esteemed them highly in
many respects. The Consulates of the various European Powers were all
situated in a fortified enclosure called the Shameen, outside the city
proper. It was very pretty and pleasant, with green grass and nice
gardens. Soup made of birds' nests duly appeared at dinner. As is well
known, these nests are made by the birds themselves of a kind of gum, not
of twigs and leaves. The birds are a species of sea-swallow which builds
in cliffs and rocks. The nests come chiefly from Java, Sumatra, and the
coasts of Malacca. Our kind host also provided sharks' fins, another
much-esteemed luxury.
The wonderful streets of Canton with their gaily painted signs and shops
teeming with goods of all descriptions, the temples, Examination Hall,
and Prison have been described by so many travellers that I will not dwell
upon them. We were carried to all the sights in chairs, and under the
auspices of Mr. Watters were treated with every civility, though I cannot
of course say whether any insulting remarks were made in the vernacular.
[Sidenote: THE VICEROY OF CANTON]
Our constant friend, Sir Thomas Sanderson, had written in advance to
ensure that Jersey should be treated with every respect by the then
Viceroy of Canton, who was Li-Hung Chang's brother. It was arranged that
guards belonging to the Consulate should accompany my husband when he went
to pay his ceremonial call so that he might appear sufficiently important.
He was very courteously received, and took the opportunity of hinting to
the interpreter that when His Excellency returned the visit my daughter
and I would like to see him. Directly he arrived at the Consulate he
expressed a wish that we should appear, and we gladly obeyed the summons.
We discovered afterwards that this was quite an innovation, as the Viceroy
had never before seen a white woman. Anyhow, he seemed just as amused at
seeing us as we were at seeing him, and asked every sort of question both
about public matters in England and about our domestic affairs.
He wanted to know what would be done with my jewellery when I died and why
I did not wear ear-rings. Of course he inquired about the Queen, also
about the British Parliament. Concerning the latter the interpreter
translated the pertinent question, "His Excellency wants to know how five
hundred men can ever settle anything"--I fear that my husband could only
laugh in reply.
The Viceroy and his attendants remained for about an hour. We were seated
at a long table facing the Great Man, and Mr. Watters and the Vice-Consul
at either end. When our guest and his followers had departed Mr. Watters
told us that they had been carefully watching lest anything should have
been said in Chinese which could have been construed as derogatory to the
British. Only once, he said, had a term been used with regard to the
Queen's sons which was not absolutely the highest properly applied to
Princes. The Viceroy was, however, in such a good temper and the whole
interview went off so well that they thought it wiser to take no notice of
this single lapse from diplomatic courtesy.
It was, probably still is, necessary to keep eyes and ears open in dealing
with the "childlike and bland" race. The late Lord Loch once described to
me a typical scene which took place when he was Governor of Hong-Kong. A
great review of British troops was being held at which a prominent Chinese
Governor or General (I forget which) was present and a number of Chinese
were onlookers. The Chinese official was exceedingly anxious to edge out
of his allotted position to one a little in front of Lord Loch, who was of
course taking the salute. If he had succeeded in doing so his countrymen
would have at once believed in the Chinese claim that all foreign nations
were tributary to the Son of Heaven and have accepted the salute as a
recognition of the fact. Lord Loch therefore stepped a little in advance
each time that his guest moved forward, and this continued till both,
becoming aware of the absurdity of the situation, burst out laughing and
the gentleman with the pigtail perforce resigned his "push."
Thanks to Mr. Watters we were able to buy some exceptionally good
Mandarins' coats and embroideries, as he found dealers who had really fine
things and made them understand that Jersey meant business.
From Hong-Kong we sailed in an American ship for Japan, and landed at Kobe
towards the middle of April. We had a very pleasant captain, who amused me
by the plaintive way in which he spoke of the cross-examination to which
he was subjected by many passengers. One man was much annoyed by the day
lost in crossing 170 deg. longitude. "I tried to explain as courteously as
I could," said the captain, "but at last he exclaimed, 'I don't believe you
know anything about it, but I have a brother-in-law in a bank in New York
and I shall write and ask him!'"--as if they kept the missing day in the
bank.
[Sidenote: JAPANESE SCENERY]
Kobe is approached through the beautiful inland sea, but unfortunately it
was foggy as we passed through, so we lost the famous panorama, but we
soon had every opportunity of admiring the charms of Nature in Japan. We
had always heard of the quaint houses and people, of their valour and
their art, but somehow no one had told us of the beauty of the scenery,
and it was quite a revelation to us.
I do not attempt any account of the wonderful towns, tombs, and temples
which we saw during our month's sojourn in the country, as travellers and
historians have described them again and again, and Lafcadio Hearn and
others who knew the people well have written of the spirit and devotion of
the Japanese; but I venture to transcribe a few words from an article
which I wrote just after our visit for _The Nineteenth Century_, giving my
impressions of the landscape in spring:
"Japanese scenery looks as if it ought to be etched. Large broad
masses of light and shade would fail to convey the full effect.
Between trees varied in colouring and delicate in tracery peep the
thatched cottage roofs and the neat grey rounded tiles of little
wooden houses standing in gardens gay with peach blossom and wisteria;
while the valleys are mapped out into minute patches of green young
corn or flooded paddy-fields interspersed here and there with
trellises over which are trained the spreading white branches of the
pear. Everywhere are broad river-courses and rushing mountain streams,
and now and again some stately avenue of the sacred cryptomeria leads
to a temple, monastery, or tomb. Nothing more magnificent than these
avenues can be conceived. The tall madder-pink stems rear their tufted
crests in some cases seventy or eighty feet into the air, and the
ground below is carpeted with red pyrus japonica, violets, ferns, and,
near the romantic monastery of Doryo-San, with a kind of lily or iris
whose white petals are marked with lilac and yellow. The avenue
leading to Nikko extends in an almost unbroken line for over fifteen
miles, the trees being known as the offering of a daimio who was too
poor to present the usual stone or bronze lantern at the tomb of the
great Shogun Ieyasu."
At Tokyo we were hospitably entertained at the Legation by Mr. (now Sir
Maurice) de Bunsen, Charge d'Affaires, in the absence of the Minister. The
Secretary of Legation, Mr. Spring Rice (afterwards Sir Cecil), added
greatly to our pleasure by his knowledge of things Japanese and the
trouble he took to explain them.
A letter to my mother, dated April 1893, resumes many of my impressions of
a Japan of nearly thirty years ago when it was still only emerging from
its century-long seclusion.
"You cannot imagine what a delightful country Japan is. Not only is it
so pretty, but it is so full of real interest. I had imagined that it
was rather a joke full of toy-houses and toy-people--on the contrary
one finds great feudal castles with moats and battlements, gigantic
stones fifteen feet long, and the whole place full of legends of
knights and their retainers, ghosts and witches and enchantments....
The Clan-system here was in full-swing till just the other day, when
Sir Harry Parkes routed out the Mikado, and the Shoguns (Tycoons) or
Great War Lords, who had ruled the country for centuries, had at last
to give way.
"Even now the representatives of the greatest clans hold chief places
in the Ministry and Naval and Military Departments, and the question
in Parliament here is whether the radical opposition can break up the
clan-system and distribute the loaves and fishes of Government
patronage evenly amongst the people. Meantime I doubt if the Mikado,
or Emperor as it is most proper to call him, is very happy in his new
life. He thinks it correct to adapt himself to 'Western civilisation,'
but very evidently prefers the seclusion of his ancestors and has
credit for hating seeing people. There was to have been a garden
party--the Cherry Blossom Party--at the Palace last Friday, but
unfortunately it pelted, so it was promptly given up and everyone said
that His Imperial Majesty was very glad not to have to 'show.'
[Sidenote: INTERVIEW WITH THE EMPRESS]
"However G. had an audience with him yesterday and all of us with the
Empress. It was rather funny. In the first place there was great
discussion about our clothes. G. went in uniform, but the official
documents granting audience specified that the ladies were to appear
at 10 a.m., in high gowns--and in the middle of the Japanese
characters came the French words 'robes en traine.' The wife of the
Vice-Chamberlain--an Englishwoman--also wrote to explain that we must
come without bonnets and with high gowns with trains! So we had to
write back and explain that my latest Paris morning frock had but a
short train and M's smartest ditto none at all.
"However, they promised to explain this to the Empress, and we arrived
at the Palace, which we found swarming with gold-laced officials,
chamberlains, vice-chamberlains, and pages, and ladies in their
regulation costume--high silk gowns just like afternoon garments but
with long tails of the same material, about as long as for
drawing-rooms--how they could have expected the passing voyager to be
prepared with this peculiar fashion at twenty-four hours' notice I
know not, and I think it was lucky that I had a flowered brocade with
some kind of train to it.
"The saloons were very magnificent--built five years ago--all that was
Japanese in them first-class--the European decorations a German
imitation of something between Louis XV and Empire, which I leave to
your imagination. G. was carried off in one direction whilst we were
left to a trained little lady who fortunately spoke a little English,
and after a bit we were taken to a corridor where we rejoined G. and
Mr. de Bunsen and were led through more passages to a little room
where a little lady stood bolt upright in a purple gown with a small
pattern of gold flowers and an order--Japanese, I believe. She had a
lady to interpret on her right, and two more, maids of honour, I
suppose, in the background. The interpreting lady appeared to be
alive--the vitality of the others was doubtful. We all bowed and
curtsied, and I was told to go up to the Empress, which I did, and
when I was near enough to avoid the possibility of her moving, she
shook hands and said something almost in a whisper, interpreted to
mean that she was very glad to see me for the first time. I expressed
proper gratification, then she asked as to the length of our stay, and
finally said how sorry she was for the postponement of the garden
party, to which I responded with, I trust, true Eastern hyperbole that
Her Majesty's kindness in receiving us repaid me for the
disappointment. This seemed to please her, and then she shook hands
again, and went through her little formulae with M. and G., giving one
sentence to the former and two to the latter, after which with a great
deal more bowing and curtsying we got out of the room and were shown
through the other apartments. I heard afterwards that Her Majesty was
very pleased with the interview, so she must be easily gratified, poor
dear. I am told 'by those who know' that she is an excellent woman,
does a great deal for schools and hospitals to the extent on at least
one occasion of giving away all her pocket-money for the year and
leaving herself with none. The poor woman has no children, but the
Emperor is allowed other inferior spouses--with no recognised
position--to the number of ten. I do not know how many ladies he has,
but he has one little boy and two or three girls. The little boy is
thirteen and goes to a day-school, so is expected to be of much more
social disposition than his papa."
[Sidenote: THE SACRED MIRROR OF THE SUN-GODDESS]
The boy in question is now Emperor and has unfortunately broken down in
health. Mrs. Sannomya (afterwards Baroness), wife of the Vice-Chamberlain,
told me that he was very intelligent, and that the Empress, who adopted
him in accordance with Japanese custom, was fond of him. She also told me
that the secondary wives were about the Court, but that it was not
generally known which were the mothers of the Prince and Princesses. Mrs.
Sannomya personally knew which they were, but the children were to be
considered as belonging to the Emperor and Empress, the individual mothers
had no recognised claim upon them. I believe that this Oriental "zenana"
arrangement no longer exists, but meanwhile it assured the unbroken
descent of the Imperial rulers from the Sun-goddess. We were assured that
the reigning Emperor still possessed the divine sword, the ball or jewel,
and the mirror with which she endowed her progeny. The mirror is the
symbol of Shinto, the orthodox faith of Japan, and it derives its sanctity
from the incident that it was used to attract the Sun-goddess from a cave
whither she had retired in high dudgeon after a quarrel with another
deity. In fact it seems to have acted as a pre-historic heliograph. By the
crowing of a cock and the flashing of the mirror Ten sho dai jin was
induced to think that morning had dawned, and once more to irradiate the
universe with her beams.
Though Shintoism, the ancient ancestral creed, was re-established when the
Emperor issued from his long seclusion, the mass of the population no
doubt prefer the less abstract and more ritualistic Buddhism of China and
Japan. What the educated classes really believe is exceedingly hard to
discover. A very charming Japanese diplomatic lady remarked to me one
Sunday at Osterley in connection with church-going that "it must be very
nice to have a religion." Viscount Hayashi summed up the popular creed, in
answer to an inquiry on my part, as "the ethics of Confucius with the
religious sanction of Buddhism": perhaps that is as good a definition as
any other.
It seems doubtful whether Christianity has made solid progress, though
treated with due respect by the Government. Mr. Max Mueller told me that
when the Japanese were sending emissaries to the various Western Powers
with instructions to investigate their methods both in war and peace, two
of these envoys visited him and asked him to supply them with a suitable
creed. "I told them," said he, "'Be good Buddhists first and I will think
of something for you.'" An English lady long resident in Japan threw some
further light on the Japanese view of ready-made religious faith. At the
time when foreign instructors were employed to start Japan with her face
turned westward, a German was enlisted to teach court etiquette, no doubt
including "robes montantes en traine." While still in this service a Court
official requested him to supply the full ceremonial of a Court
_Christening_. "But," returned the Teuton, "you are not Christians, so how
can I provide you with a Christening ceremony?" "Never mind," was the
reply, "you had better give it us now that you are here; we never know
when we may want it."
[Sidenote: CHRISTIANITY IN JAPAN]
St. Francis Xavier, who preached Christianity to the Japanese in the
sixteenth century, records the testimony of his Japanese secretary, whom
he found and converted at Goa, as to the effect likely to be produced on
his fellow-countrymen by the saintly missionary. "His people," said Anjiro
of Satsuma, "would not immediately assent to what might be said to them,
but they would investigate what I might affirm respecting religion by a
multitude of questions, and above all by observing whether my conduct
agreed with my words. This done, the King, the nobility, and adult
population would flock to Christ, being a nation which always follows
reason as a guide."
Whether convinced by reason or example it is certain that the Japanese of
the day accepted Christianity in large numbers, and that many held firm in
the terrible persecution which raged later on. Nevertheless the Christian
faith was almost exterminated at the beginning of the seventeenth century,
only a few lingering traces being found when the country was reopened to
missions in the latter half of the nineteenth.
Nowadays the Japanese idea unfortunately appears to be that Christianity
has not much influence on the statesmanship of foreign countries, and
their leading men in competition with the West seem too keen on pushing to
the front in material directions to trouble much about abstract doctrines.
Belief in a spirit-world, however, certainly prevailed among the masses of
the people whom we saw frequenting temples and joining in cheerful
pilgrimages.
The great interests of our visit from a social and political point of view
was finding an acute and active-minded race in a deliberate and determined
state of transition from a loyal and chivalrous past to an essentially
modern but still heroic future. Neither the war with China nor that with
Russia had then taken place, but foundations were being laid which were to
ensure victory in both cases. The Daimios had surrendered their land to
the Emperor and received in return modern titles of nobility, and incomes
calculated on their former revenues. The tillers of the soil were secured
on their former holdings and instead of rent paid land-tax. Naturally
everything was not settled without much discontent, particularly on the
part of the peasants, who thought, as in other countries, that any sort of
revolution ought to result in their having the land in fee-simple. Much
water, however, has flowed under the Sacred Bridges of Japan since we were
there, and I do not attempt to tread the labyrinths of the agrarian or
other problems with which the statesmen of New Japan had or have to deal.
[Sidenote: DAIMIOS OF OLD JAPAN]
One thing, however, was evident even to those who, like ourselves, spent
but a short time in the country. The younger nobles gained more than they
lost in many ways by the abandonment of their feudal prominence. Their
fathers had been more subservient to the Shoguns than the French nobility
to Louis XIV. The third of the Tokugawa line, who lived in the seventeenth
century, decreed that the daimios were to spend half the year at Yedo (the
modern Tokyo), and even when they were allowed to return to their own
estates they were obliged to leave their wives and families in the
capital as hostages. The mountain passes were strictly guarded, and all
persons traversing them rigidly searched, crucifixion being the punishment
meted out to such as left the Shogun's territory without a permit. On the
shores of the beautiful Lake Hakone at the foot of the main pass villas
were still pointed out where the daimios rested on their journey, and we
were told that a neighbouring town was in other times largely populated by
hair-dressers, who had to rearrange the elaborate coiffures of the ladies
who were forced to take their hair down before passing the Hakone Bar.
True, the daimios lived and travelled with great state and had armies of
retainers, but at least one great noble confessed to me that the freedom
which he then enjoyed fully compensated him for the loss of former
grandeur.
My daughter who "came out" at Hong-Kong had quite a gay little season at
Tokyo, as we were hospitably entertained by both Japanese and diplomats,
and amongst other festivities we thoroughly enjoyed a splendid ball given
by Marquis Naboshima, the Emperor's Master of Ceremonies.
We were also fortunate in seeing the actor Danjolo, commonly called the
"Irving of Japan," in one of his principal characters. The floor of the
theatre was divided into little square boxes in which knelt the audience,
men, women, and children. From the main entrance of the house to the stage
ran a gangway, somewhat elevated above the floor; this was called the
Flowery Path, and served not only as a means of access to the boxes on
either side, but also as an approach by which some of the principal actors
made a sensational entrance on the scene. A large gallery, divided like
the parterre, ran round three sides of the house and was reached from an
outside balcony. European spectators taking seats in the gallery were
accommodated with chairs.
The main feature wherein the Japanese differed from an English stage was
that the whole central part of the former was round and turned on a pivot.
The scenery, simple but historically correct, ran across the diameter of
the reversible part; so while one scenic background was before the
audience another was prepared behind and wheeled round when wanted. To
remove impedimenta at the sides or anything which had to be taken away
during the progress of a scene, little black figures with black veils over
their faces, like familiars of the Inquisition, came in, and Japanese
politeness accepted them as invisible.
Danjolo, who acted the part of a wicked uncle, proved himself worthy of
his reputation and was excellently supported by his company. All the parts
were taken by men; some plays were in those days acted by women, but it
was not then customary for the two sexes to perform together. Now I
believe that the barrier has been broken down and that they do so freely.
When we had a Japanese dinner at the Club the charming little waitresses
gave dramatic performances in intervals between the courses.
Certainly the Japanese are prompt in emergency. A Japanese of high rank
once told me how the Rising Sun came to be the National Flag. A Japanese
ship arrived at an American port and the harbour authorities demanded to
know under what flag she sailed. This was before the days when Japan had
entered freely into commercial relations with other lands, and the captain
had no idea of a national ensign. Not to be outdone by other mariners, he
secured a large piece of white linen and painted upon it a large red orb.
This was offered and accepted as the National Flag of Japan, and is still
the flag of her merchant fleet. With rays darting from it, it has become
the ensign of her warships, and, as a gold chrysanthemum on a red ground,
represents the Rising Sun in the Imperial Standard. According to my
informant, who told me the tale at a dinner-party in London, the whole
idea sprang from the merchant captain's readiness of resource.
Whatever changes Japan may undergo, it must still retain the charm of its
pure, transparent atmosphere with the delicate hues which I never saw
elsewhere except in Greece. In some respects, unlike as they are
physically, the Japanese recall the quick-witted, art-loving Greeks.
Again, Japan, with its lovely lakes and mountains and its rich vegetation,
has something in common with New Zealand, and, like those happy Islands,
it has the luxury of natural hot springs. I shall never forget the hotel
at Miyanoshita where the large bathrooms on the ground-floor were supplied
with unlimited hot and cold water conducted in simple bamboo pipes direct
from springs in a hill just behind the house.
[Sidenote: JAPANESE FRIENDS]
Still more vividly do I recall the Japanese who did so much for our
enjoyment at Tokyo. Amongst others was the delightful Mrs. Inouye, whose
husband, as Marquis Inouye, has since been Ambassador in London.
Marchioness Inouye has remained a real friend, and constantly sends me
news from the Island Empire. Nor must I forget how much we saw under the
guidance of my cousin, the Rev. Lionel Cholmondeley, for many years a
missionary in Japan, and Chaplain to the British Embassy there.