Part 13

--'For all that,' I said, 'America is a republic. American sympathy for Japan cannot be explained by the theory you put upon the American polity. The sympathy of the Anglo-Saxons arises, in my opinion, chiefly from their perception of the justice of our cause, and from their appreciation of the humane and enlightened behaviour of the Japanese. This is my plain opinion. No one can fail to perceive a great contrast in these respects between the two countries engaged in the war. The sympathy of the European Socialists is somewhat similar, I believe. The conditions of Japan are much nearer to their own ideals than are those of our opponents.'

--'That is very likely,' said the duchess, 'but Japan as she is cannot be an ideal object of admiration to them; their sympathy appears only to be based on comparison. Why, there was even an assertion by some Socialists that Japan was liked only because the autocracy of the other side was disliked. By the bye, you said the other day, that you did not like to apply the term "revolution" to your great change of 1867.'

--'Yes, I said so.'

--'And I agree with you,' continued the duchess. '"Revolution" means upsetting and destroying everything, but you never had anything of that kind. Your emperor assumed a new authority, but it was only a restoration, or, in other words, unification of power; then, too, the sovereignty of his majesty's family is so antique that there is again a great continuity of power: those are the points which make Japan so fine a nation.

--'Well,' I continued, 'we do not like to apply the term "revolution" to our great change, because that term is usually applied to a big, popular movement against established governments, which, while destroying one, sets up another. That is to say, the term is generally used in a political sense. The history of our great change differs from that, because, although the Shogunate Government was upset, the other Government, namely, the Imperial, which was reinvigorated and had come to exercise again its full authority, had always existed, and the sovereignty had continued to rest with the heads of that Government, namely, the emperors; that you know very well. Nevertheless, with regard to the social aspects of the change, one cannot say there has been no upsetting of things. As a matter of fact, almost everything has been upset; restoration and innovation were the two currents of thought then prevailing. The main work was restoration, but almost everything else was innovation, or at least renovation. Hence, almost every institution and material object which was old was destroyed, or nearly destroyed, beyond all necessary limit, almost in the same way as was experienced by England under the Long Parliament, and France in 1789. I don't mean there was in Japan any such sanguinary deeds perpetrated as those by the Jacobins, but the general social currents of events were something like those of French and English experience. There was even a suggestion made by serious people of cutting down the big trees of a fine park in the middle of Tokio and turning it into mulberry fields, on the argument that the latter would be beneficial to the nation, whilst the former was a useless luxury. At one time, indeed, even the word civilisation was much abused: of course, not in such a way as Madame Roland lamented the abuse of the term "liberty," because our abuse of the word "civilisation" was neither political nor serious. It was chiefly so with small social matters. For instance, when one wished to dispense with some of the old customs and manners, which he deemed too rigid and inconvenient, he would cast them away light-heartedly, with the remark that "it was not a civilised method." Of course, a great change like the one we have made can only be carried out under such circumstances as those, accompanied necessarily by great sacrifices. Without doubt, it would not do if the same thing went on endlessly. Fortunately we have managed to tide over that transitory state, and have produced the Japan of the present day.'

--'Whatever may have been the social aspects of your great change,' said the duchess, 'one thing is undeniable, and that is, that its best results have been brought about by the unification and continuity of the _pouvoir_--I mean, authority. But by saying this, I must not be misunderstood, especially in this country, as saying that a continuity of authority is necessarily to be connected with heredity, for I maintain, for instance, that the Catholic religion is a specimen of continuity in the person of the Pope. But, baron, was there any outcry for "Liberté, Egalité, and Fraternité" at the time of your great change?'

--'No, not exactly,' I replied. 'Our struggle was not one of the lower classes _en masse_ against the upper classes. Besides, our lower classes were not in such a desperate condition as those of France in her troubled days.'

--'You know already,' proceeded the duchess, 'that those three terms contradict each other if carried out literally.'

--'That is true. But by similar reasoning, all terms of virtue are contradictory if carried out to the letter. Thus, the extremity of patience makes one a fool; that of bravery, foolhardy; that of charity, lavish; and that of extensive love of all things, makes one a sentimental weeper. Forgive me if I am a little polemic. However, there is one thing that I think I have not told you, and that is this: Although there was no definite cry for the three "té's" during our great change, some vague notion of them was observable during that event and some time after. It was during that transition period that the French notion of personal right based upon the civil law got into the Japanese mind a little too strongly in opposition to the idea of public laws based upon the principles of State and common good. Thus, for instance, a man did not scruple to cut down whatever forests belonged to him, no matter whether or not by doing so irreparable public injury should be occasioned; his notion being that his proprietary right of the forests stood over any other right. In other words, the notion of private laws was not reconciled with that of public laws. We have had to bring about an amelioration, and to enact fresh laws to regulate the forest question, much on the same lines as the old regulations which had previously existed in many parts of the country. There have been many other matters much similar to this. I may also add that proper respect between inferior and superior, and younger and elder, was also slackened at one time, which is a sort of misuse of equality and fraternity.

'But to return to our discourse: all the arguments I have heard from you to-day remind me of an anonymous political pamphlet which I happened to glance at. It speaks of the necessity of unification and continuation of authority. It speaks of the advisability of non-dependency of the Ministry on the Chamber, and it speaks of the self-contradiction of the three terms. I almost suspect that the writer of the pamphlet is influenced by you, or you by him, or is it a coincidence?'

--'No matter,' said the duchess lightly, and continued; 'I think there are no Socialists in Japan--at all events, not worth speaking of, as a party?'

--'Very true,' I interposed.

--'I thought so,' continued the duchess; 'Japan is not a country compatible with the ideas and doctrines of Socialism: she does not want it.'

--'And yet, some points of her aspirations,' I said, 'deserve attention. It is the duty of an enlightened Government to anticipate the legitimate requirements of the lower classes, and to make the spread of dangerous doctrines useless.'

--'And Japan does so, I suppose,' said the duchess.

--'Well, we are doing our best,' I answered, 'more especially because the introduction of Western methods of progress tend to produce all sorts of evils, though, of course, the benefit derived therefrom is comparatively far greater in its way.'

--'The freer a country is, the less it is likely to be disturbed by socialistic or nihilistic movements, you mean, I suppose,' said the duchess.

--'It is not all, but something like it,' I said. 'England and America are free from those movements.'

--'France is a free country,' said the duchess, 'and yet she labours under an overpowering influence of Socialism.'

--'It seems true,' I said.

--'You might say because she is too free, perhaps,' said the duchess.

--'Or, rather,' I replied, 'she might be paying the penalty incurred during the ancient monarchy of the misuse of its power.'

--'Maybe,' she answered. 'But I am far from believing in real power of that party. It is, of course, foolish to ignore an existence of such an element. They have, however, never been in office. Suppose they have formed a Government, what do you think will come out of it? At all events, I can never agree with some of their extreme views which, if carried out literally, would mean an abolition of the army and navy, the Government, even the State.'

--'The subject is too intricate for me,' I said; 'I give it up.'

--'At all events,' she replied, 'there being no socialistic party in Japan, as you say, is it not all the more strange that no cordiality seems to exist between Japan and the French Nationalists, whose notions and ideas resemble those of the Japanese.'

--'We can have no sympathy, still less concern, with any political aspiration of a section of other people as far as their domestic politics are concerned. But I do not see why the Japanese should not be willing to be friendly with the Nationalist section of the French people. Of late, the Japanese have not seemed to be _persona gratæ_ with your Nationalists, if there be any such section. But it is not our fault. They have shown through their partiality to our opponents much antipathy to Japan. It is another reason why the contrast between the Socialists and other sections of the French people has become, or rather, once became, so manifest as regards their attitude to my country.'

--'But the Nationalists are not enemies of Japan. In fact, it was the Nationalists who disapproved ten years ago the action of the Government, which joined in the combination of the three powers against Japan.'

--'Maybe,' I said, 'but the general tendency of that section, since the outbreak of the present war, has not been so favourable to us as you would have liked.'

--'But you must make some allowance for the fact that France is the ally of the other side.'

--'I do so, but the contrast in tone between different journals is so marked, and the papers which are most bitter against us, at one time were those reputed as the organs of the Nationalists.'

--'That may have been so,' said the duchess, 'and there have even been some which were rather misleading. I confess I was rather surprised when once asked by a member of a respectable family, "how it was that the Japanese were near Moukden, whilst we had been informed by the press all these months that the Russians had been constantly gaining victories." Probably that family happened to take in some exceptional journal, and perhaps only one. But you cannot read journalistic opinions only and regard them as the real views of the Nationalists. They have, in reality, very little influence over the papers; I wish they had more. Journals generally go their own way: I cannot and must not explain why. Besides, the socialist journals also have not been friendly to Japan from the very beginning. They became so only when the contrasts between the belligerents had become somewhat manifest. They were shrewd in the matter: the Nationalists were slow; one had to awake them.'

--'I was not here at that time,' said I, 'so I cannot offer any observation thereon. But, madam, is it too impertinent for me to ask if French interest in Russian bonds are much in the hands of Nationalists?'

--'Oh no,' answered the duchess. 'I wish they were; but you see our old families are not like those of some other countries. The interest of the Russian bonds mostly concerns petty people who have invested in them their hard-earned savings. It is, therefore, all the more unfortunate that the present war should be protracted.'

--'I envy France,' I said, 'that she has such a saving people: it is in consequence of this that she has, as I am told, some billions of surplus francs every year.'

--'That, I believe, is the case,' said the duchess.

--'As to the friendly relations between your country and mine, let us hope that a time happier than the present may arrive soon, and the sooner the better.'

--'I hope so, too,' said the duchess, 'and we must try to make it so.'

VI

The age of the Japanese--Ito and Inouyé--Intermarriages--Commander Hirosé--Some abuse of the Japanese nationality--The climate of Japan--Chrysanthemums--Japanese rain--The two great currents--How Japan developed--Summer resorts of foreigners--Spring and autumn-- Picnics--Sports--A letter by an American--Pastimes of the Japanese gentry--Description of the Japanese chess and the game of 'Go'--Description of Japanese cards--Poem cards--Flower cards--Pierre Loti--Public baths--An interview on common and military education in Japan--George Washington and Nelson--The cause of Russian defeats according to the wounded

I found myself once more in a group of people, including some ladies. The group was very incongruous, as is usual in dreamland. The conversation went on merrily and very light-heartedly.

--'Now, baron, it is your turn. You must now tell us something interesting,' said one of those present.

--'I have nothing worth telling,' I answered.

--'But you must: you were in Europe for many years, when quite young, I have heard. You must have had some experiences to interest us.'

--'Well, I can remember only one or two amusing incidents. I once knew a charming young lady, called by her friends "the modest Violet." She lived with her mother and sisters in a country home near London. I was often invited there to take tea and play tennis, or accompany them for a drive. On one occasion, I was walking with her round the garden, when we came to a nook where there was a garden seat. We sat down. But the seat, being old, the part on which I sat gave way all of a sudden, and I found myself flat on the ground, the other part of the seat remaining intact.'

--'Does she still remember you, or rather, have you seen her since your arrival in Europe this time?' asked another.

--'Yes! I have seen her, and I noticed when I visited her she was still using on her table a silver trinket, of which I made her a present years ago, on the occasion of her wedding.'

--'That is one--and another.'

--'Well, I was at Brighton one summer, and met there a young lady with whom I was acquainted. We went for a walk together on the Parade one bright afternoon and then went down to the beach. She sat on a small rock and leaned against the stone wall. She had a book of select poems in her hand and read a good many of them while I reclined on the sand by her side. When she rose from her seat, I noticed that the back of her white summer dress was stained green by the moss on the stone against which she had leaned, and she was obliged to go home with her sunshade open over her back.'

--'Let me again ask if you have met her since?'

--'No, I have lost trace of her altogether. She was the daughter of an astronomer. If she is still living, she will remember me when she sees my _Summer Dream_.'

--'What?'

--'I don't know.'

--'But I have heard you utter those words once or twice. Surely they must have a meaning.'

--'No! I think not. You must know that I was formerly a Deputy of the Japanese Diet.'

--'What has that to do with the subject?'

--'Well! Deputies often talk about things which they know nothing about. Just observe the deputies who talk most in the chamber. They are sure to be those who have never read through the documents they hold in their hands.'

--'What a pleasantry! However, we have had the second tale. What next?'

--'No more amusing ones. But I remember another which was somewhat chivalrous. In a large town in the north of France, there was a group of rich manufacturers belonging to the same family, originally English, though some of the younger members had been born in France. A bosom friend of mine, and another compatriot, were staying there, and they were both on intimate terms with all the members of the family. I spent several summer days in that town, and also in Dunkirk and Ostend, with my friends and most of the people I am referring to. They were all very cordial, and it goes without saying that I spent a very jolly time. There was a young lady belonging to one branch of the family, who in age, to say the least of it, was past the first bloom of youth. I noticed that she and the members of another branch of the family never spoke together, which aroused my curiosity, and as a result of discreet inquiry, I found that some discord existed between them, the cause of which was she had not married the man of her choice on account of the interference of an uncle, who was the head of the other branch of the family. I felt rather sorry about the matter, for it was the only rift in the family lute, otherwise most happy and harmonious. A strong desire came over me to bring about a reconciliation. One day at Dunkirk, I accompanied the young lady to the sea-coast, where, after a long persuasion, I obtained her consent to be reconciled. The chief individual having been won over, I had no great difficulty in persuading the others; and peace was proclaimed then and there at Dunkirk.'

--'But you were only a young man, then.'

--'Certainly I was younger than I am now, but I am not quite so young as you may imagine. The Japanese, as a rule, appear to European eyes many years younger than they are in reality. Thus, for instance, when Marquis Ito and Count Inouyé came over to England as students for the first time, they were both "over twenty," and Count Inouyé was older than the Marquis Ito by some years.'

--'Their relative ages, however, must have remained the same always,' said one jestingly.

--'That is so: but that is not my point. They were then considered as young students of seventeen or eighteen. When, therefore, they told their teacher that they would return to Japan and counsel their Prince to change his anti-foreign policy into a pro-foreign policy, he laughed at them, saying, "You boys, what can you do?" And Ito and Inouyé only succeeded, after great perseverance, to obtain the necessary consent. However that may be, I am glad to have heard since that the lady in question was happily married.'

--'Allow me to ask a very delicate question. Have you never fallen in love, or something like it, with any European lady during your long stay in Europe?'

--'Well, I have always preferred to keep my heart well in hand, so as not to be hampered in the more serious duties of life; and, moreover, I do not believe in the desirability of intermarriage between foreigners. There have, of course, been many intermarriages between the Japanese and the occidental races, and the results of some of them have been apparently very good, but there have also been many failures, and I do not think, in general, happiness can be secured in intermarriages of this kind, so much as those between people who have greater resemblance in customs and manners and everything else to each other. Even if the couple are happy, it often happens that it is not so between them and their relations. You know, perhaps, that the late Commander Hirosé was a bachelor. He was a man of stoical character. There is, however, a rumour about him that while he was staying over here he met a young European lady whom he liked very much. He did not propose to her but for one reason, and that was because he was afraid she might feel unhappy when taken to Japan for the reason I have just mentioned, in addition to the fact that he was a naval officer, in consequence of which he would have to leave her to herself more than ordinary married women--and that in a country to which she was a stranger in many things!'

--'But your success in the war will make your countrymen very popular among young ladies,' interposed another laughingly.

--'I have no fear. Western young ladies are cautious enough. But, nevertheless, there is a slight danger of the name of Japan being taken advantage of. I heard a story only the other day that in California some Chinese cut off their plaits and dressed in European costumes while they were staying at an hotel, and were passing themselves off as Japanese. They were discovered when a real Japanese addressed them in his language, to which they were unable to reply. I have heard of another incident which took place in a town in the north of England. A foreigner, professing himself to be a Japanese, tried to take an apartment. The landlady, who had had some Japanese lodgers before, somewhat suspected the nationality of the man from his way of bargaining for the rent. She asked a Japanese to call in on her, and the foreigner was soon discovered to be a European whose nationality belonged to a country where the climate is very hot, and whose complexion alone bore resemblance to the Japanese.'

--'What is the Japanese climate like?' asked another.

--'Well, that is a question I am asked so often. You see Japan is a long, narrow country running from north to south-west; therefore, if you take the northern and southern extremities, there is much difference of climate, but as to Japan proper, that is to say, the middle part, the climate does not much differ from yours. The latitude there is much lower than England or France. The latitude of London is fifty-one degrees, one minute north; that of Paris, forty-eight degrees, fifty minutes north; whilst that of Yokohama, which is the port of Tokio, and about twenty miles south of the latter, is thirty-five degrees, twenty-six minutes; and, therefore, people taking an analogy from Egypt or Algeria often wrongly imagine that Japan is a tropical land, but it is not so. We have our seasons: spring, summer, autumn, and winter, at the same time as you. We have snow, frost, even hailstones, much similar to you. We have occasional rain and showers also, as you have, or perhaps a little more frequent. We have a rainy season in June, although we do not have so much fog as in England. The weather is generally fine; our summer lasts longer than yours, and is somewhat hotter, but not so hot as people generally imagine. Our autumn lasts longer and is finer than yours, because you seem to jump almost from summer to winter, and winter to summer. In fact, in Japan, we almost doubt which is the better season of the year, spring or autumn. In autumn, in many parts of the country, almost all the foliage, as well as the maples, turn to all shades of red and scarlet intermingled with yellow. It is the result of the brilliant sun shining on the frosted leaves--a grand sight, which you seem not to have in this quarter of the world.'

--'The chrysanthemums are also very fine too, I think,' said another.