Part 3

--'Shimadai is a representation of the Mount Horai which I have just mentioned. In later days Jo-tom-ba, more correctly Jo-to-uba, that is, the old couple of Takasago, came to be usually to be represented with it as well Jo-tom-ba were mythical man and wife who lived very long and happy lives. They are supposed to have dwelt in the beautiful pine forests on the lovely seashore of Takasago, where they spent their days in gathering pine needles. Small artificial mounts and pine forests and figures of the aged couple are tastefully arranged on a clean tray of white wood, the edges of the tray being indented in order to represent an idea of the sea-coast, with some cranes on the branches of the pine, generally with a nest and young ones, as well as the hair-tailed tortoise on the seashore. Cranes and tortoises play their part in our ceremonies so often, you see. I will here tell you the gist of a common song. Once a crane married a tortoise. Now, cranes are supposed to live one thousand years and tortoises ten thousand years. In the course of a duet pouring forth their touching sentiments, the wife gives vent to her thought to this effect: she feels sad at the idea that after a happy life of nigh a thousand years she would have to lead a young widow's life for nine thousand years.'

--'For us mankind a thousand years is long enough. But please proceed with the main story.'

--'Very well,' said I: 'the bridegroom and bride are seated _vis-à-vis_ before the Toko-no-ma at a distance, with the officiating person next the bridegroom, and his wife next the bride, each giving assistance to the bridegroom and bride respectively. The me-cho (she-butterfly) and o-cho (he-butterfly) enter.'

--'What's that?'

--'Well, you see, butterflies are very beautiful, and when in couples are very amiable to each other. If you see them flying about in the fields, now touching the flowers, now playing with each other, you can well imagine what happy lives they lead. At the wedding two virgins are chosen to represent a male and a female butterfly. They each hold a 'choshi,' a vessel with a long handle for holding saké. To one of the vessels a male butterfly made of paper is fastened, and to the other a female. They both, simultaneously, pour out a few drops for the bride and bridegroom successively, the idea being that two butterflies help the rites.'

--'Your idea of butterflies seems to be different from ours.'

--'Well, we do not attach to them the sense of frivolity. At all events, in case of wedding the point taken into consideration is different. They are also pictured as a symbol of Dream based upon a discourse of an ancient Chinese philosopher, who said that when he became a butterfly in a dream he had no other notion than being a real butterfly, and therefore he could not vouchsafe that his present _ego_ was not similarly a phenomenon of a greater Dream.'

--'But you haven't yet explained where and how the cups are brought in.'

--'The cups generally consist of a set of three, usually of plain, clean earthenware. They are put on a tray of pure white wood with legs called Sambo--a dumb waiter, if you like. They are generally placed together with the saké vase at the Toko-no-ma before the ceremony begins, and are taken out at the bidding of the officiating person by the butterflies. The exchanging of cups between the bride and bridegroom is rather complicated. Each time the bride or bridegroom holds up the cup, three drops of saké are poured into it by each butterfly, and this is repeated three times, and therefore this part is called San-san-kudo, that is, three threes making nine, and that phrase is commonly used to signify a marriage ceremony. This part of the ceremony requires much formality. People concerned have to take some lessons beforehand. But remember people generally do not indulge on such occasions in swallowing too great a quantity, whatever their capacities may be.'

--'No joking, please.'

--'Very well. When this part of the ceremony is over, the officiating person, or a special person who is called into the next room for the purpose, sings a short song called Takasago (one of the classical Japanese songs called "utai"). The song is founded upon the story of the aged couple of whom I spoke, and is regarded as a contribution of good presage. But remember, officiating persons are often indifferent singers, consequently they often merely utter in tone a few words of the song. I remember a very amusing incident. It was told me by the Marchioness Ito. At the wedding of Isaburo Yamagata, son of Marquis Yamagata, Marquis Ito was the officiating person. He was unable to sing, so he said when the moment for singing came, "Isa, let us suppose I have sung. If father asks you what I have done, tell him I have sung all right." The marchioness restrained herself with great difficulty from bursting into laughter. That kind of incident sometimes occurs in reality.'

--'No wonder: people are not always singers. But pray proceed.'

--'The banquet now begins: bride and bridegroom now appear as a married couple, ceremonial cups are exchanged as a token of the cementing of the new relationship of those present, and after a good deal of merriment the couple retire and the guests disperse. On that day the bride and bridegroom wear ceremonial dress as a matter of course. It being a grand day for a woman, it is natural enough that the bride should get herself up as well as she can. I dare say the Western bride does the same, is it not so, madam?'

--'I hear, but please proceed,' said the marchioness.

--'The bride generally wears a dress with bright designs and very long sleeves. But it would be somewhat different if the bride were an old maid or an aged widow, don't you think so?'

--'Please really no more joking. What elderly widow could dress like a young bride?'

--'Very well. The bride often keeps on her head a white headgear called "boshi" until the end of the first part of the ceremony. It answers the purpose of your veil. I think it is used for hiding the blushes. Is it also so here in the West?'

--'I don't remember.'

--'Then also the bride changes her dress several times, twice, thrice, or even four times in the course of the evening, which is quietly made an opportunity for displaying female vanity. Oh, I beg your pardon.'

--'Never mind, but continue.'

--'Very well. After a few days the newly married couple, together with the near relations of the husband, go to the bride's former home and are there entertained at a banquet. It is called a "Satobiraki." At the wedding some suitable presents to each member of the husband's family are made by the bride as a token of the new affection arising between them, so also does the husband on the day of Satobiraki. After a suitable lapse of time all the relatives and friends are invited to a banquet, or some sort of entertainment, at a convenient place, at which the formal announcement of the marriage is personally given to the guests. The invitations are generally issued in common by the fathers of the bride and bridegroom, and thus is concluded the whole wedding ceremony.'

--'And the wedding presents?'

--'Yes, we also make wedding presents, but perhaps there is a slight difference. In the West the presents are on account of individual friendship, but in Japan more on account of family intercourse, that is to say, in Japan such presents would be made by a family if the family of the bride or bridegroom, as the case may be, were in intimate intercourse, even though no particular friendship exists between any particular member of that family and the bride or bridegroom.'

--'I see the ceremony is really very elaborate, but when does the legality of marriage begin?'

--'The ceremony is elaborate, as you see, but it counts for nothing in the eyes of the law: the heart of the law is cold in every country. The legality of a marriage begins in the eyes of the law only when a proper form of it is filled at the office of the registry of "l'état civil." It is desirable that a marriage should be reported in the form thus filed and duly registered as soon as possible after the ceremony. Otherwise, whatever ceremony you may have undergone, the marriage is not recognised in the eyes of the law. But mind! if you ask me what a marriage is, I don't think I can explain it to you. From the Athenian republic down to the twentieth century all philosophers and jurists have been trying to define the exact signification of that word marriage; none of them have ever succeeded. On hearing that fact a peasant exclaimed: "What fools are these mountain-dwellers; every one on earth knows what a marriage is!"'

--'No joking, please,' said the marchioness.

--'But it is a tale I was taught by my teacher when I was studying the law at Cambridge,' said I.

--'Anyhow, I now see very well that all that I was told about the two months' marriage must have been a joke,' said the marchioness. 'There are some more points I should like to ask you, but I will let them stand over until some future occasion.'

The marchioness was originally born of a very high noble family of a neighbouring country, and France is her adopted home by marriage. Her sister, Countess de Daisyland, who had been staying at her sister's, as is her custom from time to time, was also present. I noticed some difference of character between them. While I was speaking with the marchioness, the countess was chiefly talking with Madame Matoni, wife of my friend, though she turned to us occasionally and interposed some laconic remarks. Monsieur Matoni was then engaged in a conversation with the duchess. By shifting seats, so to say, almost unconsciously to one another, the duchess and Madame Matoni now began to converse, and Monsieur Matoni and the marchioness, who turned towards him without moving, did the same. The countess, who spoke less than her sister, and whose eloquence was of a totally different style, now began to put several questions to me.

--'There is one thing,' said she, 'which has been puzzling me very much of late, and that is, some people speak of the Spartan character of the Japanese women in general, basing their observations upon deeds displayed during the present war. But on the other hand there are many writers who tell us that Japanese women are mere domestic servants. Of course I do not believe that, but there seems too much margin between these observations. If I am not too curious, will you give me your opinion.'

--'With pleasure, countess,' said I. 'Without giving excessive credit to our women, which I do not dare, I can assure you that the Western estimation of our women is generally incorrect. It is perhaps beyond your conception how great an influence a Japanese mother or wife has over her family. I will give you an instance of a mother illustrated in a well-known drama. The scene is a summer evening. The aged mother of Miura Yoshimura (a hero having a real existence in history) lay on her deathbed within a mosquito netting, depending from the four corners of the room. Our mosquito nettings are very large and spacious. A young lady, the hero's fiancée, is waiting upon her as nurse. Here the hero suddenly returns home from the battlefield clad in full armour. He makes inquiry of the young lady about his mother's condition. She tells him that the aged lady's condition has not presented any marked difference, that she often falls into a drowsy state, and is calmly sleeping at that moment. A cough is heard from the room which is separated by paper screens and where the aged mother lay; in fact she had just awoke. She perceives the hero has returned, and with a few terse and killing sentences she admonishes him from where she lay for his conduct. To her it was cowardly to leave the battlefield at that juncture. It was contrary to a warrior's honour and an infringement of loyalty. She will not see him face to face. Her last words are, "If thou darest to approach me, dare to break this net. It is an iron castle of mine." Having thus denounced her beloved son, she falls into a calm slumber again. As a matter of fact, the hero's mind is already made up to sacrifice his life in battle to the cause he was supporting. He merely returned home to bid his last farewell to his dying mother, and to intrust her to the care of his fiancée. His helmet is perfumed with the best kind of incense--an act common to a warrior of distinguished position--the idea being that a hero's head should not be exposed to odious odour after death. The young lady discovers it, and, as is natural in a drama, a bit of love-scene follows. She would not stop him, but at least he might wait until his aged mother awakes again and spend a single night by her bedside. The stay of a single eve, she says, would make no material difference to chivalry and loyalty. He does not listen to her, and shaking her off dashes back to the field, where he meets with an honourable death. The point I wish to lay stress upon is not the last part, but the part where the aged mother speaks of the "iron castle." Does that not show you the kind of authority a Japanese mother wields over her children? Is it any way inferior to that of Coriolanus's mother, before whom that brave Roman warrior had to cry out, "O mother! you have prevailed." It is, of course, a scene in fiction, but with us it is an incident quite imaginable in real life. Indeed, there are several instances of similar nature recorded in history. A Japanese wife has an influence far greater than any outsider can imagine. I can only say, so far as domestic affairs are concerned, she is far more a master of the house than her husband. Think for a moment! If the wife were a mere servant of the house, as is represented by many Western writers, how could it possibly happen that, as a mother, she exercises such austere authority, as the mother of the hero just mentioned did, over her son after her husband's death?'

The countess listened to me very attentively; my long explanation did not appear to weary her. When I had finished it she smiled and said:

--'Then in your country also mothers play a great rôle in the family. Would you also say like Napoleon, "Women are the mothers of the nation"? But won't tell us a dramatic illustration of a wife?'

--'"Too many dishes spoil the appetite," as our saying goes,' I answered, 'so I must not go on endlessly,--but _àpropos_ to the Roman matron, I will tell you an incident which will illustrate that Japanese women, too, do not limit their activity to indoor affairs. You have, no doubt, heard something about Commandant Hirosé, one of our great heroes of Port Arthur. It was in the summer of last year that an eminent English admiral, whom I know very well, wished me to forward to the hero's family a copy of Macaulay's _Lays of Ancient Rome_ as a token of his admiration. He said he thought that Japanese warriors bore a great resemblance to Roman warriors, even to Horatius himself, and Hirosé was the most conspicuous among them. Now Hirosé was a bachelor; his brother, who was his senior, is married, and was also at the front. When I forwarded the book to Tokio, Mrs. Hirosé, in the absence of her husband, took the matter in her own hands and wrote a letter of thanks in English to the admiral, accompanying it with a likeness and facsimile of the last poem of the deceased, all of which she forwarded to me, asking me to send on to the admiral. People might think she was audacious, but the fact was she did not shrink from taking the entire responsibility of the matter. I approve of it. The letter ran thus.'

So saying, I recited the letter. It is strange, but in dreamland one often remembers by heart that which it is impossible to do when awake.

'I tender my sincere thanks to you for your very kind present of a beautiful edition of Macaulay's _Lays of Ancient Rome_, forwarded to me by Baron Suyematsu.

'The book is so much esteemed in Japan that it is used as a text-book in some schools where English is taught, and part of it was annotated in Japanese in a magazine devoted to the study of English.

'I beg to assure you how much I feel the honour done to my deceased brother-in-law by a renowned admiral of a great and glorious nation, in comparing him with a Roman hero, who is said to have defended the Sublician Bridge against the whole Etruscan army under Porsena, while the Romans broke down the bridge behind him.

'I am happy to say that as a reward for the deed of the late Commander Hirosé, the people of Japan are going to erect his bronze statue to his memory in Tokio, as the Romans did in Comitium.

'May I be permitted to make you a present of the deceased's latest photograph and a facsimile of his autograph poem, which was composed by him just before his departure for the second blocking attempt.

'The poem was intended by him to be the final expression of his desires, and it is sad it proved to be such.

'Literally translated, it runs as follows:

"Would that I could be born seven times And sacrifice my life for my country! Resolved to die, my mind is firm, And again expecting to win success, Smiling I go on board!"

'I will take the earliest opportunity to refer to your inestimable present in my letter to my husband, the elder brother of the deceased, who is now in the front, commanding the gunboat _Chokai_, by whom, needless to say, your kindness will be most highly appreciated.'

--'I do not see,' observed the countess, 'much in the mere act of writing a letter, but the letter itself is interesting enough, and, besides, I must say I am much amused at the manner in which you manage to bring out things to suit your purpose, just indeed as though you are writing a novel and would make us serve you as materials.'

--'Not at all, but just a little bit of a Summer Dream,' I said.

--'What!'

--'Nothing, I beg your pardon.'

--'But, baron, I should like to ask you another question. With us, pardon, or an act of forgiving, is considered a great virtue. It is an act of courage, and, at the same time, it contains in it delicacy and tenderness; especially when the subject is a woman, that virtue sometimes amounts to nobleness, or even sublimity. It is, therefore, regarded in the West as one of the greatest elements of ethics; but some people I hear say that that idea is wanting in oriental ethics, though the notion of pity exists. Is that correct?'

--'No, not exactly,' I answered, 'but you interest me by putting such a question. However, it requires some explanation. I am afraid I weary you.'

--'No, not at all; go on, if you please.'

--'Perhaps you know that the fundamental idea in Buddhism is mercy and forbearance. These attributes would already suggest an idea of forgiving and of not taking offence. Then, again, in Japan there are several new Buddhist sects, which are very much like Protestantism in Europe. In fact, some of them go so far as to allow priests to marry. I say new sects, but not so new as you may imagine, because they are as old as eight hundred years. The essence of the tenets held by them is that the great Budha Amida is the very embodiment of mercy and forgiveness, and therefore, if one devoutly throws oneself upon him and asks his salvation, all sins committed by the suppliant would be at once forgiven and salvation granted. Theologically speaking, there is much room for discussion about this, but it is not the point which I have in view. I only mean to say that this theory is nothing else than a great example of pardon. In Confucian ethics there are more names given to different kinds of virtues than in the West. The word "Jen" is the name of a virtue most comprehensive. There is no word corresponding to it in the West. There are some who translate it as "humanity," others "benevolence," some even as "charity" in its broadest sense, but all these only represent a part of the original meaning. In that word the idea of pardoning and forgiving is amply implied. A lord who pardons an offender magnanimously is a lord rich in the virtue of "Jen," There is also one classification of virtues, comprised in two words, "chung," "shu." The first word is generally translated as loyalty, but in this instance it is not necessarily loyalty to a master, but faithfulness and truthfulness in general. The second word, "shu," has no equivalent in the Western language. It means this: We should put ourselves in the position of any one who has done wrong against us or otherwise committed some error, and we view the matter with the greatest leniency, and thus give the most favourable consideration. The Chinese ideograph of it is composed of two other ideographs, "like" and "mind," that is to say, "like one's own mind," meaning--consider the matter as your own, and act toward him in such a way as your own mind would like him to act toward you under the same circumstances if he were in your place. This ideograph is often used for the very purpose of an action which cannot be any other than the equivalent of pardoning and forgiving. Are you not becoming a little wearied?'

--'Oh, no! Go on.'

--'Very well! In our Bushido, that is the teaching of chivalry, of which you must have heard, "pardoning" and "forgiving" is the important element. We have a proverb saying, "When the helpless bird takes refuge in the breast of the hunter, he would not kill it." This proverb is very well known and is considered as the embodiment of a warrior's magnanimity. From all that I have just said you will understand that the criticism which says oriental ethics lack notions of pardon and forgiving is incorrect.'

--'Thank you very much,' said the countess. 'In such matters one requires much study of and penetration into the very depths of thought and reasoning of a people. One certainly ought not to come to a hasty conclusion. Japan is a country which I am so anxious to see.'

--'Go, or rather, come, by all means, you will be most welcome,' I said.

--'But it is so far off and travelling will take such a long time,' said she.

--'No, it will not take so long a time as you imagine. Means of communication are so quick nowadays. The quickest route is through America by the Canadian Pacific via Vancouver. Another route is via San Francisco, which takes a few days longer. If you go by the Canadian Pacific, like a letter in a postbag, it takes only a few days over three weeks. When I came to Europe last year I left Yokohama on the 10th of February. Having arrived at Victoria, in the island of Vancouver, I made my way to Seattle, where I disembarked. I took thence the Great Northern Railway down to St. Paul and Chicago, a route which runs between the Canadian and San Francisco lines, and on to New York. I spent a day at Seattle. I had to stop at the summit of the Rockies for five hours, on account of an accident which happened to a train in front of ours. It made me miss the junction, so that I lost more than one day on the way. I spent two days in New York, and one in Washington. The mail steamer in which I crossed the Atlantic was not the quickest one. And yet on the morning of the 13th March I was quietly taking tea at an hotel in Liverpool. Last year was a leap year, but counting by days, inclusive one extra, the whole journey took thirty-two days in all. You see the globe is like an egg--the higher the latitude, the shorter the distance.'

--'That looks long enough.'

--'Well, but one cannot jump over from one side of the world to the other in one leap.'

--'Supposing the Trans-Siberian Railway free again, what do you think of it?'