A Fantasy of Far Japan Part 6

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

--'Yes, I do,' said the professor's wife. 'I can never forget it.

Miyanos.h.i.+ta, 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 Miyanos.h.i.+ta 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 j.a.pan 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 cla.s.sical j.a.pan. 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 "Musas.h.i.+-no," that is to say, plain of "Musas.h.i.+,"--from the fact that the greater parts of it belong to the province of Musas.h.i.+ (we call it a large plain because j.a.pan 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 gra.s.s to gra.s.s, 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 j.a.pan. 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 flouris.h.i.+ng 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 j.a.pan, for it helped the getting rid of old notions and introducing new ideas. Besides, by a.s.suming 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 acc.u.mulating 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 j.a.pan to be seen in j.a.pan,'

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, j.a.pan is still j.a.pan, especially in the interior. The old j.a.pan 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 j.a.pan, which I consider a good thing, hurry by all means.'

--'I suppose the style of residence in j.a.pan differed, and still differs, from ours?' asked the d.u.c.h.ess.

--'Yes, very much; and not only the grand residences, but also the houses of all cla.s.ses. 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 bas.e.m.e.nt 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 s.p.a.ces are available,' said Baron C, 'we also attach gardens to our houses. _Apropos_, you were at the matinee dance at the Palais Elysee, 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 fas.h.i.+onable 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 d.u.c.h.ess. '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 const.i.tution of the country. Then, too, although somehow or other I missed entering into the dancing pavilion, I understood the matinee 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 fas.h.i.+onable 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 d.u.c.h.ess.

--'Yes, I have. He impresses one at first sight with his enormous energy and intellectual power. He likes j.a.pan. He was taking lessons in jiujitsu under a j.a.panese master when I was at Was.h.i.+ngton early last year. He told me he had been practising it three times a week.'

--'Yes,' said the d.u.c.h.ess, 'I understand jiujitsu is much in vogue in England and America just at present.'

--'It seems so. In New York and Was.h.i.+ngton some ladies are also taking lessons, I am told; so also in England, as you know.'

--'But I suppose even in j.a.pan it is only studied something like fencing is in our fencing schools, not as a part of the universal education.'

--'Just so,' I answered. 'It does not form a part of the general education, though it is very extensively studied in the higher colleges and schools.'

--'It looks certainly like an art worth paying attention to,' said the d.u.c.h.ess.

--'Here, too, some time ago,' said Baron C., 'a j.a.panese jiujitsu master once came to Paris and gave an exhibition at a theatre, challenging, with the offer of a prize, any Frenchman who would combat with him. No Frenchman won. They were beaten one after the other. The people did not like so much humiliation, and the audience decreased, so the master had to go back to London; such is the Frenchman.'

--'Well,' said I, 'it might have been only a momentary caprice, perhaps because j.a.pan is not your ally, but the audience could not have been diminished for such a cause as you say. There can be no notion of humiliation, because it is a question of art. However, if the Occidentals, with their natural strength and physique, become well equipped with that art, we the small j.a.ps shall never be a match for them; so I would rather wish you Occidentals do not learn the art.'

All present broke into laughter, and in a minute or two I was once more wafted through the air and making my way elsewhere.

III

j.a.panese art and the West--Night-fetes--Sale of flowers and plants--Singing Insects--A discussion on the moon, flowers, snow, etc.--Music of snow and rain--Lines on hailstones--A particular evening for lunar perspective--A blind scholar and his wife--The deaf, dumb, and blind of j.a.pan--The calendar and its radical change in j.a.pan--Calumnies on j.a.pan, and an anonymous letter--j.a.panese ways of counting ages--The question of women and a lady's opinion on j.a.panese women--Lafcadio Hearn--j.a.panese names--Difficulty of distinguis.h.i.+ng between 'L' and 'R'--Discussion on p.r.o.nunciation--London and Tokio patois--j.a.panese n.o.bility and the method of addressing n.o.bility --Books on j.a.pan--Once more on Lafcadio Hearn--Discussion on women's education--_The Risen Sun_

Time and s.p.a.ce in dreamland have become more inconsecutive, and events have crowded rapidly one on another. In dreamland, moreover, one frequently sees in an incongruous group people who in ordinary life seldom come into contact with one another. Such is my experience.

Now I found myself guest at a reception given by a lady whose residence was in the neighbourhood of the Grand Opera, where I met a number of authors and critics of both s.e.xes. Then at our Legation, near the l'Arc de Triomphe, where I was spending the evening in a large company, which included several ladies of my own country. Again at the soiree of an a.s.sociation interested in things j.a.panese, where also were members of both s.e.xes, and then, hey presto! all these events and places would transform themselves into one single scene, as though they had been but one and the same gathering.

I remember well that at the meeting of the a.s.sociation a special toast was proposed after dinner by the president in my honour, to which I responded, saying how much I thanked its members for their sympathy for j.a.pan. The little which j.a.pan had been made known to France, or perhaps to Europe, was largely due to the appreciation of the j.a.panese arts by those present, and some others who had preceded them, such as MM. Bing and Guimet. I also said that a nation having an art such as ours, though perhaps not equal to the best arts of Europe, could not be so savage and wild as many calumniators represent, and further, that I wished Frenchmen, and indeed Europeans generally, would study and examine j.a.pan a little more, and cast away their prejudices. I also remarked _en pa.s.sant_ that the oriental section of the Louvre was anything but strong in j.a.panese _objets d'art_, j.a.panese painting was scarcely represented at all. Other conversations that I had were an agglomeration, so that I cannot remember where and with whom they were held.

--'By the bye, have you seen the fetes of Neuilly?' asked a lady.

--'Yes, I have seen them,' I answered; 'but the place was so crowded, I could scarcely stand. It was interesting to watch the common people enjoy themselves. One thing which struck me most in the fete was that there were so many _menage aux chevaux_ (roundabouts) without any horses at all. All the objects on which people were riding were other animals--even pigs, the dirtiest animal on earth.'

--'But pigs are considered objects of luck.'

--'Ah! that's an ideal notion of the civilised people, I presume.'

--'Have you any similar fetes in your country?'

--'Yes, we have. In Tokio, especially, we have fetes very similar almost all the year round, though not on so large a scale as your night-fetes of Neuilly. In Tokio there are one or two fetes in the same night in some quarters of the town. There are many small shrines in different parts of Tokio, and the fetes are nominally in their honour. I say nominally, because most people who go there, go to see the sights or the pretty things rather than to do homage to the shrines. Each of these shrines has a certain day which is kept in its honour. In our fetes the things most sold are small plants and flowers with their roots, so that they may be planted as they are! They are taken to the fetes by gardeners living in the suburbs, who make this kind of business their regular occupation, and therefore the occasion is more properly considered as the gardeners' evening. Sweets, toys, and small light objects for domestic use are sold, and there are different kinds of entertainments as well. The nature of your evening fetes seems very different. In fact, I have not seen any plants or flowers sold there.'