Part 4

--'Well, a friend of mine who took that route took twenty days from Petersburg to the Pacific Coast. It is, of course, shorter; but you see travelling continuously by train is not very agreeable. I believe that the railway services in those quarters will be much improved and made quicker, but at present, that is to say, judging from experience before the war, the service is said to be very irregular and long. I should prefer a sea-voyage. The direct service between Europe and Japan on board the German or French mail ships through the Indian Ocean seems to be most agreeable. Of course it takes a longer time: it takes from forty-four to forty-seven days from Marseilles or Genoa to Yokohama. I have twice taken that route on a French mail ship and liked the voyage very much.'

--'But one would be killed by sea-sickness.'

--'Not at all. The sea is not always calm in the Mediterranean, so also between Hong Kong and Japan. But all the other parts are usually very calm. Besides, one soon gets accustomed to the sea, after two or three days, excepting some few persons who are by nature averse to the sea altogether.'

--'I cannot believe it.'

--'You must believe it, it is a fact, and moreover, on mail steamers there is much fun and pleasure; dances and concerts are given on board from time to time. The meals are splendid and plentiful. Passengers soon become friendly.'

--'Ah! that's too good to hear, but I wonder if it is always so,' she said.

A lady, who had travelled in the Far East, joined us a few minutes since. She spent two months in Japan, she said, and supported my views about the voyage, and talked of the pleasure of the trips somewhat in opposition to the observations of the countess.

The marchioness now turned to me and said, 'I have just been talking to your friend Monsieur Matoni about the new invention of Monsieur Blanry. A long account of it was given in _Le Matin_ the other day. It is an improvement on the wireless telegraphy. Guns may be fired, wheels may be turned by electricity produced by wireless apparatus. He is going to give a lecture illustrated by practical experiments. Would you like to go? If so, I would send you a ticket for a box for yourself and friends.'

--'I shall be delighted,' I answered.

--'Marchioness patronises science,' said Monsieur Matoni to me, as though he only meant me to hear him, and in a further subdued voice whispered, 'Her tastes differ from the ordinary tastes of ladies.'

The visitors were now gradually dispersing. The marchioness and her sister also rose to take their leave, asking us, as they did so, to visit them on the marchioness's next reception day. We had stopped for longer than we anticipated, despite an appointment I had at my hotel. Soon after the departure of those ladies, however, we also said our goodbyes to the duchess and her daughters, and to the few people who had still remained.

We were again wafted through the air, and were once more moving over the tops of countless houses on the way. On reaching my hotel, I shook hands with my friend and his wife on the tops of the beautiful avenue-trees in front of the hotel.

II

Greek inspiration--Semitic sympathy--Religion--Difference between Japanese and European chivalry--What is the Bushi?--The weakest point of a hereditary military organisation--Introduction of the new system--New commoners and the history of their emancipation--Combination of democratic ideas and conservative traditions--Old bottles and new wine--The Great Change of 1867--Napoleon--Negligence of a proper estimation--Scenery of Japan---History of Tokio--European and Japanese method of dwelling--President Roosevelt and jiujitsu

It seems my young secretary, noticing I was asleep, and fearing that I might catch cold, brought a rug and covered me, which action roused me for a moment, but I soon returned to the same dreamland again.

Once more I was wafted through the air, and found myself in a large entrance-hall with gilded ceiling and walls painted with pictures. It was brilliantly lighted, and in one corner a band was playing. A broad staircase, the upper part of which branched off into two, led to the upper part of the house, numerous men in livery lined both sides of the passage, displaying the sure sign of aristocracy. There were balconies, or rather corridors all round overlooking the hall. I ascended the staircase, and, passing along one side of the corridors, entered a large chamber which was evidently the reception-room. But seeing but few people there, proceeded to an open window at the end of the room and looked down into the garden, which was brilliantly illuminated. In a few moments I moved, almost unconsciously, into a further room. It was the study of the host, who with his wife was showing the room to a group of guests. The host, noticing me, made me welcome, and introduced me to one of the guests in particular. It was the Prince Royal of Greece. I exchanged some words with him, in the course of which I remarked that Greece was the country which I was most anxious to see, inasmuch as it teemed with historical interest. As I did so, the scene of many heroic actions, above all, those of Salamis and Marathon, together with the glory which Byron sung for her freedom in the recent century vividly arose before my mental eyes.

It was then announced that the music was about to commence, and the party moved on. I was with a charming lady. She was of Semitic blood. Her complexion was snow white, her eyes were dark, as also her hair, which was surmounted by a coronet of pearls, and round her throat was a necklace of the same. She happened to know me already by name, through her relatives whom I met in England. This naturally afforded us a subject of conversation as we proceeded. On arriving at one end of the corridors we stood, still conversing, and looking down into the hall, while the other people moved on the further end of the corridor where many more guests gradually arrived. While thus conversing, a nobleman passing us was introduced to me.

--'All the generals are gone to the Front,' he said, rather suddenly.

At first I thought he was referring to the war in the Far East, though I soon realised what he meant. He appeared a little excited.

--'There is more exaggeration than fact,' said I. 'I am quite confident that there will be no rupture.'

At that moment some one persuaded my fair companion to go over to where the prince was sitting. I followed at a distance, and took my seat in an obscure place in the corridor. From the corridor of the other side, an operatic singer, accompanied by a pianist, rendered the choicest of his songs, and the bands played in the intervals.

I listened to the songs and the music and watched the people. Sitting alone I am sure I must have looked awkward and stupid; which, however, is a thing I do not much mind. Now and then the host came and exchanged some words with me. He was busy looking after his guests generally, but managed to tell me he would invite me to a special dinner very soon to which also the Duchess Fairfield would be asked. The hostess was similarly occupied, and I did not converse much with her, except to pass a few remarks about music. She said she preferred vocal music to instrumental. The music over, all went down to the garden. It was delightful: the open air on a summer's night is always so. Light but choice refreshments were served there. The guests, partaking of them as they wished, chatted here and there in groups of two and three.

The night was far advanced and the guests began to disperse one after another. I also left, but without bidding adieu either to the host or hostess lest I might disturb them. On my way out I saw the lady with whom I had talked in the corridor still sitting on a bench chatting with a few gentlemen. She seemed to notice me, but I merely bowed and passed on, though I fancied she had some sympathy for us Japanese. She did not, neither does any member of her community, say anything about the hard fate of her race or the countless hardships which they are suffering, especially of late, in certain quarters of the globe. In this world, we know there are many matters in which silence speaks more than words.

Time and space, and indeed, sequence of events, are incongruous in Dreamland. One flits from place to place. I now found myself in a large mansion. It was the residence of the Marchioness Vivastine. I was of the few early arrivals. The salon was rather dark, but cool and spacious. The marchioness was not yet down, but the valet told me she would soon appear. In a minute or two she entered accompanied by her sister, asking as they greeted us our pardon for keeping us waiting. More people now arrived one after the other. The marchioness proceeded to make tea and distributed it, assisted by her sister, much in the same way as did the Duchess of Fairfield and her daughters. I was naturally introduced to many of the visitors, Princess A., Countess B., Baron C., Monsieur D., etc., but for me, a foreigner, it is impossible to remember their names. The Duchess of Fairfield and the Lady Dulciana were among the new arrivals.

--'Baron and I had a very heated discussion the other day,' remarked the marchioness. Then turning to me, she said, 'Did we not?' To which I replied, 'If you please, it was indeed interesting.'

--'Did you go to the Trocadero the other evening?' said the marchioness.

--'Yes! we did. Thank you very much for sending the box. And the duchess and her party were there too,--in a box close by ours,' I added.

--'Did the lecture interest you?' asked the marchioness.

--'Oh yes! the experiments were all very interesting, but I hardly understood a single sentence of the lecture,' I answered.

--'No wonder! for no one else understood it, at least, I did not. It was so scientific,' interposed Baron C.

'Ah! you were there too, of course,' said I. 'And the best fun of the evening was that there was a man distributing hand-bills. At first we all thought it was a kind of syllabus of the lecture, but in reality it was the advertisement of a competitor stating that he was an earlier inventor.'

The marchioness and her sister, being the hostesses, were unable to talk long to each guest. I soon found myself sitting next to the duchess on a sofa, with Baron C. in front of us on a chair. Our conversation having turned upon the question of the separation of state and religion, Baron C., who was keen on the subject, being a Deputy, said:

--'With us it is a very interesting question. There are many points to be thought of and discussed, but I think it interests outsiders very little, especially a person like yourself, a Japanese, for I understand the Japanese gentry have very little religion.'

--'And yet,' said the duchess, 'in my opinion there is scarcely a single people who have no religion at all. Bushido is the creed of the Japanese gentry, as I understand, and in truth it is nothing else than a religion. The Latin _religio_, from which the term religion is derived, comes from the verb _religere_ to hold tight. In that sense, at least, Bushido must also be taken for a religion. I know something about it, especially through your writings. But, baron, will you please explain to me something about the points of resemblance and difference between our ancient chivalry and your Bushido?'

--'I am not, madam, well acquainted with your chivalry, and, therefore, I cannot pretend to hit the mark. But I know that one of the ideals of your chivalry was "bravery" to the point of being fearless of death; in that there is certainly a great resemblance. Another of your ideals was loyalty and truthfulness. Always ready to render assistance to one weaker; in that also there is a great resemblance. The third ideal was: a great devotion to religion. On this point I must admit there is some difference. I do not say our Bushi despised the idea of supernatural beings, but you see our Bushi had more faith in their own spirit of self-reliance, therefore religion governed their thoughts to no such degree as it did in the West. Then comes a great difference between them,--I mean their attitudes as regards the fair sex. But have you no objection to my proceeding further?'

--'Not at all,' said the duchess.

--'Very well,' said I. 'With your chivalry the custom of rendering respect to the fair sex had been carried to such a high pitch that it was nothing less than adoration or worship. I do not say the motive was originally bad, because it came no doubt from the idea of helping the weaker. But, remember, it often happened that too much prominence was given to keeping faithfulness to women, even where one had some higher duty which ought to have claimed the whole loyalty of his heart. The subject is rather too delicate for me to describe minutely, but you can see what I mean. In the days of your chivalry faithfulness in love-affairs was looked upon in general as gallantry, no matter whether the affair was honourable or otherwise, but with the Japanese Bushido it was very different. It was not because a Bushi was heartless toward the weaker sex, but effeminacy was a thing which he despised most. In the days gone by in Japan, if a Bushi had been found paying too much attention to a lady, and making himself a slave to her, to the neglect of his duty, he would have been hooted out of society. With European chivalry, therefore, the tendency of desire was to be noticed by others for his actions performed in homage to a lady, whilst with our chivalry one would try to do his utmost to conceal his emotion and even to look cold. In the West, therefore, the word "gallantry," which was originally used more for "dashing and noble bravery" came in common parlance to have quite a different meaning, as you know. Nothing of the sort has ever taken place with us.'

--'But I thought your Samurai also had love-affairs--I was at least made to understand so from your story of the other day about a young Samurai,' interrupted Lady Dulciana.

--'Yes, that is true, but our Samurai is not "trees and stones" as we say, and you must know there are exceptions to every rule,' I replied and continued.

--'There was also another great difference. In the West chivalry had grown and decayed, traversing always pretty much the same line; I mean it had undergone no great transformation. But in Japan the case was somewhat different. There it became united with the art of intellectual learning, and has made Bushido, that is, the ways of Bushi, more systematic and ethical.'

--'What you have just told us,' said Baron C., 'seems to explain some difference which is said to exist in the attitudes of men towards women in your country and ours.'

--'Perhaps so,' I answered, 'where a gentleman approaches a lady and kisses her hand, as one sees commonly in the best Parisian society, a Japanese would stand at a distance and make a respectful bow. There is no doubt, it seems to me, that a great many of the customs which prevailed in the feudal period are still influencing your modern society, and ours also in Japan; hence the difference which still exists between the customs of Japan and Western nations. Broadly speaking, I can say that in the West friendship or affection moved more towards intimacy, whilst in the East it moved more towards respect.'

--'Ah, I remember one thing. Some years ago there was a smart American who was a keen observer of different customs and manners. He said, "the Japanese hit their wives before strangers, and caress them in private, whilst the Occidentals worship their wives before strangers, and beat them in private." I beg your pardon, I must not tell you such a thing, I withdraw it at once; but I can say this, it is dangerous to gauge the customs and manners of other countries only by the measure of one's own country. The position of our women is not so low as represented by those who look through the colour of their own glass.'

--'Very true,' said Baron C. 'Such things often occur. One ought always to be on guard, lest one commit unaccountable errors quite inadvertently. But what do you mean by saying your Bushido has become systematic and ethical. Let us have a little more light on the subject.'

--'Quite so,' said the duchess. 'I should also like to be more informed on that subject. One never gets tired of things Japanese, especially in these days.'

--'I am afraid I shall appear somewhat dogmatic, but if you have enough patience I will explain. In the Far East, Bun and Bu, that is to say matters pertaining to Intellectual culture and matters pertaining to military training, were always regarded, at least in theory, as co-existent and of equal importance. They were compared to the wings of a bird, or to the two wheels of a cart. The generals who were held in the highest esteem were those who were efficient in both. The same esteem was held for all warriors, no matter their degree or rank; though, of course, the higher the rank the greater the excellence expected. They all became imbued with a desire for literary and ethical education, and thus civil elements were introduced into military training. The best ideas and notions of chivalry were ethically systematised, and these ideas and notions came to be nurtured and developed according to the normal roots of ethics. We were fortunate in arriving at this solution, for the country had enjoyed a long peaceful epoch, and the Bushi had therefore sufficient time to give their attention to both subjects. Besides the policy of the country had been directed to that end. Moreover, four hundred thousand families of Bushi, having enjoyed their position by hereditary succession, and having no need to labour for existence, all that they had to do was to make themselves as much "a gentleman" as possible. Of course, there were some who became outcasts and some who were newly enrolled, and some who were degraded, and some who were promoted from various causes, but these were exceptions. As a general rule they succeeded to their father's position and handed it down to their own successors. Colleges were established by their lords where they received intellectual education side by side with fencing, riding, the use of spears or the art of jiujitsu.'

--'You mentioned just now,' said the duchess, 'four hundred thousand families of Bushi, and of the heredity of their service. That seems to be somewhat different from our knighthood, which was more of the nature of personal distinction, and its ranks were filled by personal enlistment, although naturally they came from the same class of people.'

--'Well,' said I, 'our term Bushi, otherwise called Samurai, is a comprehensive one. It comprised all the retainers of the feudal lords. They generally lived, with their families, in the capital town of the lords under whom they served. There was generally a quarter in these towns where the Samurai lived quite apart from other people. Under some lords, there were Samurai who lived in the country, but they were exceptions. By Bushi then we understand those retainers in general, and as I said the service usually became hereditary. It was the strong point of our military men and also their weakest point, or at least it became so in the course of time.'

--'What do you mean by weak point? Tell me, please,' said Baron C.

--'I say "weak point," because that system as an organisation for fighting purposes became inefficient: the reason is almost plain without saying. You see the hereditary system has one advantage: respect and affection increase from generation to generation. Personal intelligence was also acquired under that system so long as the training and instruction were well attended to, but the descendant of a warrior who had led, for instance, one thousand or one hundred men with great ability, could not always be expected to do as well as his ancestor. This is so from the very fact that ability and skill for qualifying one for a higher position is not a thing which is hereditary. This is the weakest point of an hereditary military organisation. "Ministership and generalship are no inherited stocks" is our old saying. Napoleon's eighteen marshals were, one and all, children of the time. Even before the restoration of the present Imperial régime we perceived this weak point, and that was one of the reasons we made a radical change in our military system and adopted the system of universal service. One might think that, by doing so, the spirit of respect and affection, in other words, loyalty and patriotism, might be lessened in the ranks of the troops; but that is not so, for with us the spirit of loyalty to and patriotism for the Emperor and country is very strong among all the people. And because the feudal system had been abolished and the whole nation came to owe no other allegiance than that which is direct to the Emperor, there is no necessity of making any difference among the different classes of the people in regard to those services. As to intelligence, we do not leave the children without education, whatever class they may belong to, I mean to say, we have adopted a system of universal education which gives sufficient knowledge and therefore intelligence to the men enlisted in the ranks from all classes. As to the officers, we take in any candidates who are willing to be suitably educated as such, provided they show sufficient capacity, without any distinction of class or family. It seems to us the only way to procure the most efficient officers. We are very radical in these matters. One can see in the Japanese army or navy sons of noblemen or rich merchants being commanded and led by an officer who has risen from the lowest class of the people. There may even be officers whose origin, if scrutinised minutely, belonged to a class vulgarly called "New Commoners."'

--'I think I understand now,' said Baron C. 'But do you mean to say Bushido is a thing of the past? We are made to understand that the whole Japanese army and navy, indeed the whole nation, are animated with the spirit of Bushido at this very moment.'

--'No, I did not say Bushido was a thing of the past. Bushi exists no more, it is true, except that those who belonged to that class still enjoy the privilege of being called Shizoku (knight family), which, however, has no legal signification, and therefore is only an empty title. There may be a Shizoku driving a carriage or earning a living by selling trifles. It is sad to think of the fact, as far as personal consideration is concerned, but they have given their benefits and privileges for the general good of the country, and I am glad to say that the spirit of Bushido is now made the common property of the whole nation. It has been spread throughout every rank of the Japanese.'

--'It seems sad when we think about Bushi, as you say, from a personal point of view,' said the duchess; 'but when a country makes such a great change as your country has done, some great sacrifice on the part of some portion of the community is inevitable.'

--'And especially so with our Bushi,' said I, 'because they were in fact the chief instruments by which the present great change has been brought about. When we view things in this way, we can say that our Bushi fought and sacrificed their lives in order to destroy their own order.'

--'But what do you mean by the "New Commoners," which you mentioned just a minute ago?' asked Baron C.