Part 2

--'There was a young Samurai, X., and a maiden, Y., who loved each other. They were not decreed by fate to marry. X., the young Samurai, was the second son of his father, and, therefore, not the heir. He was adopted by another Samurai, and eventually marries Z., the daughter of the house. Now, in Japan adoption is, as it was with the Romans, a common custom; it was more so in days gone by. This was natural enough because, apart from other reasons, every Samurai was a retainer of a feudal lord from whom he received a certain allowance annually for his services, and his family depended upon him. In default of a male heir, the house, in other words the family, lost every privilege and emolument. The succession, however, could be made good by an heir, adopted from a blood relation, or even from a totally strange family. On the other hand, the second or third son of a Samurai had no legal status as a Samurai, and was vulgarly called "Cold Rice Meals" or "Back Room Resident." Personal service of a Samurai house to its lord was only required of its head. Succession of Samurai--the title as well as emolument--was according to primogeniture, and, therefore, a second or third son could scarcely get a livelihood, unless adopted by another Samurai, or unless a totally different kind of profession be adopted, or else he was made, by some lord, head of a new Samurai house, by virtue of some well-merited distinction, which was a matter of rare occurrence. Well, X. was adopted by the family of Z., his future wife according to that custom.

'Misfortune fell upon the family of Y., the maiden, and she became a Geisha, an actress, if you like, not from levity on her part, but from a sense of duty, which caused her to sacrifice herself to the occupation just mentioned--a sentiment which is unintelligible in the West. The story proceeds to narrate how X., the young Samurai, and Y., his former sweetheart, meet each other after a long lapse of time by pure accident, and how their love of days gone by revived in their hearts, especially from the pity which the young Samurai felt for her misfortune and her corresponding responsiveness. Further, how the young Samurai began to neglect his official duties and to incur the displeasure of the councillors of his lord, and was on the brink of becoming a Ronin--a masterless Samurai, the greatest shame of a Samurai, if incurred by his own dishonourable conduct.

'In those days, it must be remembered, the moral discipline of the Samurai was very rigid. The conduct of our young Samurai involved not only the ruin of himself but also the destruction of the family as a Samurai, a matter most lamentable to the house of a knight. At last Z., the despairing wife, takes the matter very seriously to heart, not so much from jealousy as from a sense of duty to her house and a desire to save her lord and husband from disgrace. She forms a bold plan, and personally visits her rival to obtain her confidence. She persuades her, not by any vulgar quarrel, but by serious reasoning and rational appeal, to put a stop to all connection with her husband. The rival assents and gives her promise. Then comes the climax. After a great struggle between love and reason, and hampered by several circumstances which made her unable to fulfil her promise, the rival puts an end to her own life, committing jigai, which is equivalent to Seppuku--vulgarly called Harakiri--in the case of a man, leaving some touching and well-meant letters behind her. What became of the young Samurai and his wife after that I scarcely need to relate here. Such, then, is the kind of plot we find in that class of books.'

While discoursing in this strain, a young lady--an English maiden--joined us.

--'Your plot seems not altogether like ours,' said the English lady. 'I dare say you have read some of our everyday novels?'

--'Well, I have read some, but it is now so many years ago that I do not remember them, with one exception, and that is _Jane Eyre_. Years ago I read some chapters of it, and those are enough. The general contents of those chapters remained ever in my memory. A little time ago I was staying at Folkestone. One gloomy afternoon, when I was intent over many things, that memory recurred to me all of a sudden. I went to a bookseller and bought a copy of the book: I read through once more some of the earlier chapters, and it created a great impression on me.'

--'What caused that impression, I should like to know?' interposed Lady Modestina.

--'Well, I cannot explain the reason very well,' I answered.

--'I can see it very well,' said the English lady; 'you are too proud to explain the reason,' Turning to the Ladies Modestina and Dulciana, she continued. 'Perhaps you have not read, or do not remember well, the story of our English novel. The story is this: Jane Eyre, a young girl, suffers every torture in the house of her uncle at the hands of young John Reed and his sisters, and indeed of Mrs. Reed also. You know Jane Eyre was the orphan child of a sister of Mr. Reed. He had taken her into his family in order to bring her up with his own children. He died some time after, enjoining his wife on his deathbed to look after her kindly. You see, therefore, though Jane Eyre was not properly a member of the family, some of the same blood ran in her veins as in theirs. In spite of that fact, and in spite of the injunction of Mr. Reed, her uncle, and, above all, in spite of all the modesty and good behaviour she showed, Jane was tormented by every member of the family. That is no doubt the point which has impressed the baron so much to think of----'

--'Perhaps,' I said smilingly.

--'Never mind, baron, Jane was of strong enough character to emerge from the trouble, and so will Japan, in spite of all the calumnies, if indeed she has not done so already.'

At this point a bustle was heard in another part of the room. Lady Modestina cast her eyes in that direction and said: 'Here comes a lady, a friend of ours, a star in our society, we think much of her--I must go to her.' And as she was moving away slowly, remarked to me, 'I will introduce you to her.' To which I replied, 'I shall be delighted.'

We went together towards the lady mentioned, to whom I was duly introduced. She was the Marchioness de Vivastine, and was extremely beautiful, looking far younger than her age must be, for I afterwards heard that she is the mother of a married daughter.

Her face was covered by a veil, but her round and brilliant eyes sparkled through it. Her beauty, however, was not the point of my appreciation, but her vivacity and frankness. I soon entered into conversation with her. She spoke fluently and unhesitatingly. We commenced to speak on art.

--'I admire Japanese art very highly: it is so natural and vivid, flowers and animals and what-not.'

--'May be, but our human figures are very bad,' said I.

--'Perhaps so,' said she, 'in the later productions, but not in antique works. I think there has been no nation which has produced such striking representation of nature as your country. Curiously enough, one sometimes notices very close representations of nature in the carvings or the inscriptions of very primitive tribes. Don't misunderstand me. I do not mean that yours are of that kind.'

--'You must be, madam, very well acquainted with our arts. Whence have you acquired that taste?'

--'From the time of the last Great Exhibition here, when your country sent so many valuable specimens of art.'

--'You must yourself be an artist. I can see it from your observations.'

--'Yes, she is an artist, although an amateur,' interposed Lady Modestina.

--'No, don't say that,' interrupted the marchioness.

--'I dare say you paint much,' said I.

--'No, not at all,' replied the marchioness, and continued as she laughed slightly, 'except, perhaps, that I used to paint occasionally my own portrait, of course after the style of the _chef-d'œuvre_ of your "literary picture" in the faintest and lightest colours. By the way, I also like Japanese methods of gardening. I once had a Japanese gardener for three years at my country seat.'

--'Really,' said I, 'you interest me very much.'

--'He was very clever; far more so than any European, any Frenchman, in the same calling of life could ever possibly be.'

--'With us,' said I, 'it is very common. Every gardener understands the ordinary art of "garden-making," though, of course, there are only a few real experts. But let me tell you that it comes more from the general atmosphere and surroundings in which they grow up. There is nothing surprising in it to our eyes.'

--'May be. But to us it seems extraordinary. After three years, during which he served me very faithfully, I transferred him to a Frenchman, Mr. Canny by name.'

--'Is that so? I have seen his Japanese gardens.'

--'Then you know him?'

--'Yes, I first came to know him when he visited my country some years ago. The other day I made a great circuit round Paris in his motor: we left Paris by the Bois, then St. Cloud, Versailles, on to Fontainebleau, making a large circuit through Cagny, Surveilliers, Beaumont, Pointoise, thus reaching St. Germain, thence on to St Cloud and back to Paris by the same route. We must have travelled three or four hundred kilometres.'

--'Then you must have passed through the forests of Fontainebleau. Are not the trees and rocks there splendid?'

--'Yes, that is just what struck me very much, but I am most interested to hear that you appreciate the value of natural rocks. They are very important elements in our Japanese gardens.'

--'I cannot understand how so great a number of rocks could have been heaped up there in that peculiar way. Some people imagine that at one time they formed the bottom of the sea.'

--'Oh! but if so, it must have been a very long time ago. At all events, before we came into existence,' said I, laughing, and added, 'I should like to get a concession from the government to take those rocks, because the time will certainly come when they will be wanted for French gardens, and perhaps I could then become a millionaire.'

Thereupon we all broke out into laughter. The marchioness still continued to talk on different subjects. She had no affectation: she said boldly just what she thought with all the sparkle of her intelligence. I tried not to be overwhelmed by her eloquence, and the consequence was that we had a very heated discussion on the customs and manners of different countries. Reverting to Japan she said:

--'I hear one can marry for two months in Japan. Is that true?'

--'I beg your pardon?'

--'Well, that is what I have heard,' she said, 'from an acquaintance. He said that he himself had married when he was staying in Japan, having gone through the requisite wedding ceremony--partaking of saké cups with the bride.'

--'Well, madam,' I said, 'I must say it is possible. Nay, more than possible. I can go further and tell you that such things may occur even for much shorter times than that. But similar customs! Is it not the same all over the world?--even in Paris itself, I am afraid. However, I must say the nuptials of that particular kind are far less in number in my country than in most of the civilised countries.'

Thereupon she burst into great laughter, as also did the others, and she said:

--'I should like to hear something of your marriage ceremony. Is it a civil or religious one?'

--'Entirely civil, madam,' I replied. 'We hear now and then of people celebrating a religious marriage after the fashion of the West, but it is very rare, as rare as one or two stars in a cloudy sky.'

--'You seem to imitate the West in everything,' said she; 'but what I would like to know of is your national ceremony.'

--'Our marriage ceremony is a time-honoured one and entirely civil,' I said. 'There is always an officiating person or a witness or an assistant, if you like. He is the person who is responsible for the completion of a marriage. Generally he is the person who arranges the matter from the very beginning--I mean, from the time when the engagement is formally made between the parties and, therefore, he is called a Nakaodo, a middle-man, or a go-between, as you like. Even when all the preliminary arrangements have been made by a second person, and another person, for some reason, is preferred to officiate, the latter is called theoretically, or, as it were, officially, a Nakaodo, and he is considered as being responsible for all. A middle-man must be married, for his function must be shared by his wife, especially when the essential part of the ceremony is performed; besides, a bachelor or widower would never be considered a fit person for such an occasion. But do you mean to make me give you the whole history of a wedding?'

--'Of course! Your story is just beginning to be most interesting,' said she.

--'Very well! The ceremony is very elaborate and solemn, though the scale differs, or rather is magnified or simplified, according to circumstances. To begin with, when the engagement is formally made, certain presents called "Yuino" are at once exchanged simultaneously between the families of the bride and bridegroom elect--there are certain usages in the selection of these presents.'

--'What kind of things, for instance?' she asked.

--'A staff for ceremonial "onna-obi" (a sort of a broad sash for women) for the bride, and a staff for a ceremonial "hakama" (a sort of long kilt) and an "otoko-obi" (a sort of sash for men) for the bridegroom. They are invariably accompanied by "noshi" and "katsuo."'

--'What are they?'

--'They are things which you have not got in Europe. One made of seaweed and the other of dried fish meat, but it is waste of time to describe them, for you would hardly realise them if I did so. Suffice it to say that they are of little value intrinsically, but they are used in Japan to signify felicity. Remember, practical people sometimes substitute cash and a list of presents: the conventionality of the world is apt to take this form. These presents correspond to your giving an engagement ring, only ours are more solemn and, moreover, not one-sided.'

--'And what next?'

--'Pray be patient. There is no fixed usage as to the length of the interval between the engagement and wedding, but some months usually intervene. Nevertheless, we are not so patient, like many Occidentals, as to let it stand over for many years. When the time which is convenient for both parties approaches, the date is fixed, a selection being made of a day of happy omen, as is also the case when the engagement presents are made. You see, there exists more or less a sort of superstition in every country.'

--'Let us suppose that day arrived. What takes place then?'

--'Wedding ceremonies are generally performed in the evening and at the house of the bridegroom. But remember, here again a restaurant or some other place is sometimes substituted for the residence, if the latter is not suitable for the occasion.'

--'Naturally.'

--'All the paraphernalia and suchlike of the bride are sent to her future home some days previously. They are generally packed up in boxes in such a way that each box can be carried on the shoulders of two persons by poles. They are not packed and sent by carts, as when moving the place of one's residence. The escort and carriers receive good tips on arriving at their destination, so that those who happen to perform that duty are only too glad to do so. The quantity and quality of the articles thus sent, of course, vary according to the conditions and positions of the parties.'

--'As ours do, I presume.'

--'But there are certain articles which are most usually prepared for the bride.'

--'As ours are also.'

--'Previously to the departure of the bride from her home, some entertainments are generally given to her near relations, intimate friends, and also to the servants for a farewell, or at least all the members of the family gather together and make some merriment. This generally takes place on the previous evening. On the day of her departure, the officiating person and his wife go to her parents' home and accompany her to her future home. Her parents, brothers, and sisters also accompany, nay more, all her near relations and those of the bridegroom also are invited, in order to be formally introduced to each other and be present at the wedding banquet. In China the character which means "to return" is generally used also to signify the act of a bride leaving her home and going to the home of her future husband to be married to him. The idea is that her future home, to which she is now going, is imagined to be her real home, where she is now going back, and she is not expected to return to her previous home for good, or rather for any permanent purpose, for such a thing is considered out of the question altogether. This notion is also the same with us Japanese; consequently in Samurai families the same formality as that of the departure of the dead is generally performed at the departure of the bride. I wonder if the Western custom of throwing slippers has any similar origin!'

--'Very likely!' the marchioness interposed.

--'And yet,' interrupted Lady Modestina, 'girls, and indeed young men, too, are compelled to marry without knowing and seeing each other at all before the wedding, as people say. Poor girls! Poor young men, too!'

'Not exactly,' I answered; 'remember, Napoleon and the Archduchess of Austria had never seen each other before her state entry into the French territory. The duchess, it is said, heaved deep sighs of relief at the first sight of Napoleon, who was not after all a monstrous creature, as she had fancied from the stories she had heard of the sanguinary battles he had fought everywhere. Such things--at least, similar things--often take place even in Europe. So with us, too, in former days, marriages of great feudal lords were generally not unlike Napoleon's second marriage. But with the people in general the matter was different. In these cases Miai, which literally means to see each other, was essential and almost the formal part of the ceremony. When "preliminary inquiries," so to say, had turned out satisfactory, the so-called seeing each other took place, that is to say, a rendezvous was arranged in one way or the other, say, at a flower garden or a theatre, in such a manner that neither of the parties felt any discomfort, and it did not become an obligation to either of them. Remember there was nothing indiscreet in the affair, as both of the parties were always accompanied by some near relatives or trustworthy friends. In nuptial affairs, parental authority was much exercised, as in this country, it is true; but the power of vetoing was always reserved by the would-be bride, and still more by the bridegroom, especially after the rendezvous. It was, however, thought advisable that as full preliminary inquiries as possible should be made before the rendezvous, in order that one side might not inconsiderately disappoint the other.'

--'But what do you mean by preliminary inquiries?'

--'It means obtaining as much information as possible with regard to family affairs, family traditions, the character and attainments, even habits and tastes of the would-be bride or bridegroom as the case may be, and I dare say the faces also, even the number of the black spots on it.'

--'Please be serious.'

--'I don't think private detectives were employed, as in the Slater case.'

--'No joking, please.'

--'But nearly similar things used to be done. Friends and schoolmates, servants, ex-servants, teachers of music, jewellers, fishmongers, grocers, tailors, dress-makers, or anybody who had any connection with the family whatever, were one and all an object from whom as much information as possible was extracted directly or indirectly; above all, Mrs. Hairdresser, who knows such matters best. You know, our ladies arrange their hair in all sorts of very complicated forms, and hairdressers make it a regular profession, paying professional visits constantly to ladies' homes, and our ladies do not mind wasting time in such matters any more than their sisters of other countries.'

--'Please to the point.'

--'I am to the point. It was only after these inquiries that, to use a diplomatic phrase, _pourparler_ for negotiations began. Of course all the inquiries were done by some one else on behalf of the would-be bride or bridegroom. They would certainly be too delicate for a girl of, say, "sweet seventeen," to carry them out for herself. Don't you agree with me on that point?'

--'Life is short. Please don't spin out webs too long. But how do matters stand nowadays?'

--'Much the same,' I replied. 'But in our own days society gives much more facility for young people to see and know each other. And I may add that nowadays photos play a great part in the first stage of the inquiries. They say photos are for studying physiognomy in order to discern the character and intellectual capabilities, but I am afraid it is also to study the looks as well, or rather chiefly. Human nature is weak after all.'

--'Still spinning out.'

--'Oh no! I am only giving out the essence.'

--'Let us then proceed with the ceremony.'

--'Very well, the essential part of the ceremony consists in the bride and bridegroom partaking saké cups, as you know, but perhaps not exactly as your acquaintance did,' said I teasingly. 'The room wherein that part of the ceremony is performed is kept sacred for the occasion. The bridegroom is led to that room by the officiating person, and the bride by his wife. In our rooms there is a small part, a little elevated, called Toko-no-ma (alcove): it is the place of honour in the room, and it is there that the Kakemono (hanging picture or writing) is hung--sometimes a single one, sometimes a pair, or a series of three. We do not hang up pictures all over the walls like a picture exhibition; and it is also there that we arrange flowers and plants in vases. The Kakemono would be the chosen ones having some signification of felicity. There are many subjects for such purposes, for instance, the landscape of the mythological island of Mount Horai, where immortals are said to reside, or cranes and long hair-tailed mythical tortoises, or the three twin plants of pine, plum, and bamboo. All of these objects are popularly viewed as emblems of longevity. The flowers or plants arranged in the vase for the occasion would also be of the same nature.'

--'And you have a special art in the arrangement of flowers, I understand, not as we do in the West by simply putting bunches into the vase without any discrimination.'

--'Just so!' I answered, 'and there would be a Shimadai on Toko-no-ma.'

--'What's that?'