Part 5

--'By "New Commoners" is meant those who have been newly made ordinary commoners by emancipation. There was in Japan a class of people below the class of the common subjects of the empire; they neither enjoyed the rights of ordinary Japanese nor owed any duty similar to others. I mean to say, they enjoyed no citizenship, but, on the other hand, they had in most cases not to pay taxes for the lands they tilled or dwelt on. Their position may be in one way compared with the slavery which existed in the West from the Roman period onward. But there were two points of a great difference. In the West the slaves had their masters whom they served, and it seems that no personal pollution in our sense was attached to them. In Japan, those people had no masters to serve, and earned their living by their own labour. At the same time, however, they were regarded as having personal pollution, so much so indeed, that they were not allowed, nor did they themselves dare, to enter within the door of an ordinary Japanese, still less could they intermarry or indeed hold any social intercourse with them. A love-affair like that of Aïda, a slave girl, and Ardamès in the opera "Aïda," which I had the pleasure of seeing in your company the other evening, is a thing almost unimaginable in Japan between a girl belonging to the class I have just spoken of, and a man of any other class. The number of these people was only a very small minority of the whole population. But they were to be found in all parts of Japan. In the country they formed here and there small villages. They were also to be found in the vicinity of towns, but always having separate communities. They were the only people who dealt with dead oxen and horses, and even dogs, and also were the only people who dressed the skins of those animals. In former days in Japan no beef was eaten but by those people. Horse flesh was not eaten even by them. The common notion was that horse flesh was sour and inedible, but I am sorry to say that, of late years, it is eaten by the poorer classes to some extent. The dealers in it insist on continuing the trade on the ground that the same business is carried on in the midst of the most enlightened nations in the West. I do not like the idea at all. However, to proceed with my story. When a cow, a horse, or a bullock belonging to a commoner died, it was notified to a community of those people, who in a group came and carried the carcase to a convenient place, where they skinned it and buried the rest; and in the case of a cow or a bullock, if it had not died from any infectious disease, they took away its flesh to their homes, as well as the skin and horns. It was the occupation of those communities who lived in the vicinity of a town to prepare the skins sent to them from all parts of the country. Their lot was not, therefore, an enviable one, as you may perceive. This class of people was called "Yeta," which is represented, though by corruption, by the Chinese ideographs meaning "much pollution." No one knows exactly what their origin was; some say they were the remnants of Mongolian troops who remained in the land after the total destruction of Mongolian armada, while some say they might have been prisoners from Corea; but all these conjectures are not satisfactory. There was another portion of the people very much akin to those just described. They were known by the name of "Hinin," a term which is represented by two Chinese ideographs, meaning "not-man," which suggests a similarity of notion to the European term "outlaw." This class was in number even less than the former. Their occupation was also very different. They chiefly lived by fishing or by making some trifling articles, and, therefore, no such deep stigma of personal pollution was attached to them as to the other ones. In fact, it was supposed that among this class of men there were sometimes to be found a Samurai declassed from one cause or another. In Yedo, now Tokio, homeless destitutes were known by that name. One must not suppose, however, that either class was unprotected by law, for their lives and properties were respected just as those of ordinary people; and, moreover, they were not necessarily poor people, because some of them, especially those who lived near towns, were very well off. A characteristic of these people was that they had a certain sentiment of community throughout their own class without distinction of locality. They had no privilege of attending a "Shinto" or Buddhist temple belonging to the citizen classes, but they had here and there their own Buddhist temple and priests. I have never seen any instance of their possessing any Shinto temples; this fact arises from the very nature of Shintoism, which is most sensitive of anything unclean, in other words, most opposed to any pollution. The Imperial régime was inaugurated with most enlightened notions, especially in the matter of personal freedom. At the very beginning of the Imperial régime, the present Marquis Ito was governor of the prefecture of Hiogo-Kobe, and he emancipated, on his own initiative, the Yeta and Hinin under his government, and made them ordinary commoners. There was little formality in such matters in those days. A governor of a province sometimes took such measures on his own responsibility. In the course of a few years the Imperial Government emancipated all of those people throughout the whole empire, and the people thus emancipated came to be vulgarly called "New Commoners." That term, however, is fast losing its significance, inasmuch as those people are daily acquiring common intercourse with the ordinary people; this is especially the case with those who transfer their abodes to other parts of the country, where their identity is not known. I am even told there are one or two deputies in the House of Representatives who originally belonged to that class.'

--'It shows a very bold and enlightened policy on the part of your Government,' said the duchess. 'From all that you have said, it appears that the success of the great changes in your country is due to the combination of democratic ideas with conservative traditions; in other words, you seem to have well succeeded in "putting new wine into old bottles."'

--'If you please, you may think so,' I said; 'that phrase describes our situation very aptly. You see, the present régime of our Imperial Government is, after all, a restoration to its ancient form, animated by modern spirits. Our change has not taken place through any uprising of the people at large. Before the Restoration, European notions of "Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity" had not been much developed, it is true, but then the people had not been labouring under any great oppression and destitution. They were not rich, as a rule, but they were mostly happy, and not in an extreme condition of misery, as was the case in Europe when the popular movements based on those notions commenced, or as is the case in a certain country now before our eyes. The movements which caused our great change were due almost entirely to aspirations of a political nature, that is to say, for the bettering of the political organism of the country. The matter was taken up by the upper classes, and was fought out chiefly by them, and, therefore, when the strife came to an end there existed no more class animosity, and the people, both high and low, devoted their energy to the common good which they held in view. It is true that at one time their views of the right methods to attain the end were not altogether unanimous. Some of the feudal lords and their retainers fought against other feudal lords and retainers. One side espoused the Imperial cause, and the other opposed, but those who opposed bore no opposition to the Imperial house itself. It was more an opposition to the lords and their clansmen who stood on the other side. You know that, after the submission of the Shogun himself to the emperor, the great majority of the feudal lords in the north and the east of Japan effected a combination among themselves and opposed the troops on the Imperial side. What I said just now was chiefly in reference to that occurrence. The nature of our civil war being such, it was not a matter of surprise that the country should be reconciled and conciliated under the new régime. I may here mention an instance, trifling as it is, to show how it has operated even in ordinary social matters. Marshal Oyama, who is now commanding our armies in Manchuria, is a Satsuma man, and he fought as a young officer of the Imperialists in the east. His wife is a daughter of a Samurai of an eastern feudal lord, one of the staunchest opponents to the Imperial troops, I mean the Lord of Aizu, whose castle was besieged and taken after a long resistance. A sister of Madame Oyama is a lady in our Imperial courts, and her brother, who had been a leader of the troops of his clan, was afterwards a general of the Imperial army, and died in that capacity recently. We have a nobility of five grades, almost identical with the European system. The origin of our noble families is various, but their broad distinctions are: Noblemen who were formerly feudal lords; noblemen who were formerly court nobles attached direct to the Imperial courts before the Restoration, and those who have been newly made nobles by virtue of their meritorious services rendered to the new Government. But in the eyes of the law, or rather in the treatment of them by the Imperial court, there is no difference, nor is there any confliction of interest or sentiment existing between them. Napoleon was a great ruler, there is no doubt, but his one misfortune was that the very nature of his origin was not sufficiently potent to reconcile and harmonise all the difference of this kind in which sentiments go a long way. Supposing he had been a direct scion of the Bourbons, and supposing the general condition of the French people of those days had not been such as it was, and supposing that the great Revolution had been effected by the movements of the aristocracy itself with Napoleon at its head, the course of the history of France might have been very different, although, in spite of that, France has always been a remarkable nation.'

The marchioness seems to have noticed that our conversation was becoming animated and stepped towards us, evidently to take part in it. At this juncture, an elderly gentleman and his wife were ushered into the room. They were duly introduced to us. He was an astronomer. He said that he and his wife had been in Japan years ago when a transit of Venus across the sun was taking place. But their observation of the transit was a failure owing to bad weather. They stayed eight years, and waited for another transit, but again he was disappointed; because a sudden change in the weather obscured the heavens.

--'That must have been a great disappointment,' I said. 'As to myself, I have seen one such transit very well at a temporary observatory erected at Yokohama. It was very interesting to me, unscientific as I am, to see the sun reflected in white on the prepared ground, and the planet, a small black spot, traversing slowly across the white surface. Of course, one could also see the actual sun and planet through a smoked glass. The transit I refer to might have been a different one, or else the locality where I saw it from was not the same. I will tell you a stupid experience of mine,' said I, turning to others present. 'There was a total eclipse of the sun, some eighteen years ago. I was on a trip, and had to cross over a high mountain pass. I, and a few companions, thought it would be great fun to see an eclipse from the summit of the mountain and observe all the changing phenomena of nature from there. So we hurried on our way, but by the time we reached the summit the sky was very cloudy, it even showered, and the consequence was that we did not see much and regretted that we had not stayed a little longer on the lower grounds, from where the people saw the eclipse very well. Fancy the height of a mountain,--however high it may be, it is only an infinitesimal part of the distance between the earth and the sun. To think that we would be nearer to the sun if we climbed to the summit of the mountain was an act of great stupidity; but such things often occur in actual life. We often forget to think about the relative situation between ourselves and others, and make our calculations according to fancy. Thus great errors are often committed. Such is the case when we play at games, say at chess. We make our moves, thinking that our opponent would make his move just as we ourselves would do, but the probability is that he makes a move totally different to our anticipation, much to our chagrin and surprise. All this arises from our negligence of making a proper estimate of the relative position occupied by both sides.'

--'You seem to have some special reference in what you say,' said the marchioness. 'By the bye, Madame P. says she likes Japan very much.'

--'Yes, I do,' said the professor's wife. 'I can never forget it. Miyanoshita, Nikko, Chiuzenzi, and above all, the scenery of the inland sea, are superb.'

--'Yes, those are the places which foreign travellers are fond of and talk about the most. The accommodation of the warm spring of Miyanoshita and the sights of the artistic buildings of the Nikko temples seem to be thought much of. Chiuzenzi, with its calm, mirror-like lake, is certainly an excellent summer resort,--no wonder most of the corps diplomatic in Japan betake themselves thereto every summer. But from our own point of view the Nikko temples are new and consequently the arts displayed there are only of modern type, elaborate but not deep. They are not quite three hundred years old. In fact,--Tokio itself is only a new town, being scarcely three hundred years old. One must go to Kioto and Nara if one wishes to see the real classical Japan. Those are places where there are so many spots of historical and artistic interest, not only in the towns themselves, but also in the surrounding localities.'

--'Yes, my husband and I had opportunities of visiting those places, and we made very pleasant and interesting trips.'

--'But how is it that Tokio is such an important town in these days, as I understand?' asked the marchioness.

--'I will explain,' said I. 'Tokio is situated on both banks of the mouth of a river called Sumida, about the same size as the Seine, running through the middle of a large flat land and flowing into the bay of Tokio. That flat land was formerly called "Musashi-no," that is to say, plain of "Musashi,"--from the fact that the greater parts of it belong to the province of Musashi (we call it a large plain because Japan is so mountainous and flat plains are so rare). It is the plain which was sung of by a poet as one where the moon rises and sinks from grass to grass, there being no mountain for her to seek shelter. When Tokugawa, that is to say, the family of the last Shogunate, became a powerful feudal lord about three hundred years ago, it made the site of the present Tokio its seat and built its castle on the spot where a small old castle had stood some time before. Towns had arisen around the castle, which came to be known as Yedo until it was changed into Tokio thirty-eight years ago. The town, and, indeed, the castle itself, had been gradually enlarged from time to time. It is well known that, not long after Yedo was made the seat of Tokugawa, the house of Tokugawa became the Shogunate, that is to say, the military and administrative government of the empire which used to be called by foreigners the temporary chief of Japan. For nearly three hundred years the Shogunate exercised great power. All the feudal lords were obliged to reside in Yedo every other year. Their families, I mean wives and children, had to live permanently in their mansions at Yedo all the year round as a kind of hostage. Great lords usually had three mansions, the upper, the middle, and the lower ones as they were called; even small lords had two. It was almost necessary for them to have several mansions because Yedo was so famous for fire--fire was called the flowers of Yedo--and they had to move their residence from one to the other in case of fire. Of course, the magnitude of these mansions differed according to the rank and position of the owners, but were mostly very large, and a large number of retainers also resided in surrounding buildings, though the exact number of the retainers also varied according to the ranks of the lords. You may well imagine how expensive such establishments must have been. Hence also the flourishing condition of the town itself, and thus Yedo had become the largest town of the Empire. When the Shogunate came to an end, the emperor removed his residence to Yedo and re-named it Tokio, that is to say, the eastern capital in contrast to Kioto, which is also known as Saikio, _i.e._ the western capital. It was a masterstroke of the bold policy of the new Government. The removal went a long way in facilitating the renovation of Japan, for it helped the getting rid of old notions and introducing new ideas. Besides, by assuming a commanding position over the whole country, and having been thus made the new Imperial capital, Tokio continues to maintain, even advances in, its prosperity. _Voila!_ the answer to your question.'

--'I suppose Tokio is much changed, as people say?' asked the marchioness.

--'Yes, it is so,' I answered. 'One can no longer see the Tokio of thirty years ago. The residences of the feudal lords in former days were very grand, especially the parts just beyond the inner moats surrounding the castle, where stood the residential mansions of great lords, called Daimio-Koji, _i.e._ broad way of the Grand Seigneurs. The premises of these mansions generally formed a square, the main building stood in the middle, the four sides of the square were generally occupied by long lines of buildings in which the retainers lived. There were several gateways, the main entrance, of course, being the largest. Some great lords spent a good deal more money than necessary in making their mansions appear grand in order to efface any suspicion of their unfaithfulness to the Shogunate--in other words, they showed by so doing that they had no idea of accumulating wealth for secret designs. I well remember those buildings, but nothing is left of them now. The very centre of the place where those houses stood is now a park. The gates, which were constructed of wood, were very elaborate and imposing. There are only three or four of them left in Tokio, but not on their old sites. They are but reminiscences of old ones, and reconstructed elsewhere by private persons as curiosities. The streets where the great lords once marched in grand state are now crossed in all directions by electric tramways. But we are not sorry for all that.'

--'People say there will soon be no more old Japan to be seen in Japan,' said Lady Dulciana, 'unless one visits her without delay.'

--'That is not likely,' I said. 'A nation cannot completely metamorphosise itself at a moment's notice. Despite all those changes, Japan is still Japan, especially in the interior. The old Japan will not disappear during the lifetime of either you or me. However, we have a saying, "For good things let us hurry." If you have any idea of going to see Japan, which I consider a good thing, hurry by all means.'

--'I suppose the style of residence in Japan differed, and still differs, from ours?' asked the duchess.

--'Yes, very much; and not only the grand residences, but also the houses of all classes. If you allow me to be candid, I will tell you a conversation I had with a Frenchman a little time ago on the very subject. He asked me what I thought of the appearance of Paris, and if I did not think the rows of grand, lofty houses which form the avenues and streets magnificent. "They are magnificent for sights," I answered. The last part of my remark made him a little suspicious, and he pressed me to explain my meaning, and I did so. Can you guess my answer?'

--'No, I cannot.'

--'My answer was to the following effect. You see, here in Paris, people who dwell in a building generally occupy only one part of it. They share a house and live in different flats and corners of the same building; and yet the people, who meet every day at their very door, do not know each other. Their rooms are generally dark, because the buildings overshadow each other. They cannot move out of their rooms without putting on hat and jacket, and generally have no spare ground attached to the house where they can rest or promenade. They seldom see the moon or the beautiful morning and evening sun, being buried in deep valleys of houses. For practical purposes, therefore, my preference is for the style of my country--I mean houses detached, though not grand and lofty, so that one can use every part of the building, from the basement to the roof, with some ground, around the building, be it large or small, tastefully laid out into a garden. I say, therefore, people who live in magnificent, high buildings may not necessarily be happier than those who live in smaller and humbler dwellings. This is what I said to that French friend of mine. Please excuse my making such remarks: I have no thought of running down your style of living, but have only been tempted to say what little good I can of my country.'

--'When spaces are available,' said Baron C, 'we also attach gardens to our houses. _Apropos_, you were at the matinée dance at the Palais Elysée, were you not?'

--'Yes, I had the pleasure of being invited by Monsieur le President and Madame Loubet.'

--'The trees there are fine, are they not?' said Baron C.

--'Yes, they are very fine, and the gathering was fine also. An incident which I experienced there was rather unique. I was walking with Madame Matoni in the crowd. We encountered two gentlemen clad in fashionable attire. Somehow or other, Madame Matoni began conversing with one of them. At the same time I heard a female voice echoing in my ears--I could not imagine where it came from, except from the gentleman with whom madame was talking. I thought it very queer, but presently I was introduced to them: they were announced as Monsieur and Madame Ecrivan. Then it occurred to me that the person whom I thought a gentleman was in reality a lady of whom I had heard something before. She was an author attired like a man.'

--'Yes, she is an author, and a clever one too,' said the duchess. 'But what did you think of the whole reception?'

--'Simplicity was, I thought, its features as compared with similar occasions in monarchical countries, but it was in unison with the constitution of the country. Then, too, although somehow or other I missed entering into the dancing pavilion, I understood the matinée dance there was customarily given chiefly for the entertainment of the orphan daughters of army and naval officers. The idea is pleasant.'

--'And what of the President?' inquired one young lady.

--'A fine old gentleman, I thought, and kind-hearted too. I was specially introduced to him, in the garden, after the formal reception. He repeatedly pressed me to put my hat on while talking with him, because the sun's rays glanced on my head through the foliage.'

--'You met with many fashionable belles there, too, I suppose,' remarked another.

--'There were Madame Riviera, who is so very vivacious, and several other ladies; I mean the wives of cabinet ministers and other high personages. But on the whole, I did not think the gathering was particularly unique for Paris, with regard to beauty.'

--'By the bye, have you ever seen Mr. Roosevelt?' asked the duchess.