Part 11

'"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_.'

A little pause, and the duchess went on--

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

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

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

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

--'What do you mean by that?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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