{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_55802/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_55802","id":"gutenberg_55802","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55802","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Travel Writing","Japan -- Description and travel"],"text":"\"OUT OF THE EAST\"\n\nREVERIES AND STUDIES IN NEW JAPAN\n\nLAFCADIO HEARN\n\nAUTHOR OF \"GLIMPSES OF UNFAMILIAR JAPAN\"\n\n\"As far as the east is from the west--\"\n\nBOSTON AND NEW YORK\n\nHOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY\n\nThe Riverside Press, Cambridge\n\n1895\n\n\n\n\nTO\n\nNISHIDA SENTAR\u014c\n\nIN DEAR REMEMBRANCE OF\n\nIZUMO DAYS\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n    I. The Dream of a Summer Day\n   II. With Ky\u016bsh\u016b Students\n  III. At Hakata\n   IV. Of the Eternal Feminine\n    V. Bits of Life and Death\n   VI. The Stone Buddha\n  VII. Jiujutsu\n VIII. The Bed Bridal\n   IX. A Wish fulfilled\n    X. In Yokohama\n   XI. Yuko: A Reminiscence\n\n\n\"The Dream of a Summer Day\" first appeared in the \"Japan Daily\nMail.\"\n\n\n\n\nOUT OF THE EAST\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nTHE DREAM OF A SUMMER DAY\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe hotel seemed to me a paradise, and the maids thereof celestial\nbeings. This was because I had just fled away from one of the Open\nPorts, where I had ventured to seek comfort in a European hotel,\nsupplied with all \"modern improvements.\" To find myself at ease once\nmore in a yukata, seated upon cool, soft matting, waited upon by\nsweet-voiced girls, and surrounded by things of beauty, was therefore\nlike a redemption from all the sorrows of the nineteenth century.\nBamboo-shoots and lotus-bulbs were given me for breakfast, and a fan\nfrom heaven for a keepsake. The design upon that fan represented only\nthe white rushing burst of one great wave on a beach, and sea-birds\nshooting in exultation through the blue overhead. But to behold it\nwas worth all the trouble of the journey. It was a glory of light, a\nthunder of motion, a triumph of sea-wind,--all in one. It made me want\nto shout when I looked at it.\n\nBetween the cedarn balcony pillars I could see the course of the pretty\ngray town following the shore-sweep,--and yellow lazy junks asleep at\nanchor,--and the opening of the bay between enormous green cliffs,--and\nbeyond it the blaze of summer to the horizon. In that horizon there\nwere mountain shapes faint as old memories. And all things but the gray\ntown, and the yellow junks, and the green cliffs, were blue.\n\nThen a voice softly toned as a wind-bell began to tinkle words of\ncourtesy into my reverie, and broke it; and I perceived that the\nmistress of the palace had come to thank me for the chadai,[1]\nand I prostrated myself before her. She was very young, and more\nthan pleasant to look upon,--like the moth-maidens, like the\nbutterfly-women, of Kuni-sada. And I thought at once of death;--for\nthe beautiful is sometimes a sorrow of anticipation.\n\nShe asked whither I honorably intended to go, that she might order a\nkuruma for me. And I made answer:--\n\n\"To Kumamoto. But the name of your house I much wish to know, that I\nmay always remember it.\"\n\n\"My guest-rooms,\" she said, \"are augustly insignificant, and my maidens\nhonorably rude. But the house is called the House of Urashima. And now\nI go to order a kuruma.\"\n\nThe music of her voice passed; and I felt enchantment falling all about\nme,--like the thrilling of a ghostly web. For the name was the name of\nthe story of a song that bewitches men.\n\n\n[1] A little gift of money, always made to a hotel by the guest shortly\nafter his arrival.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nOnce you hear the story, you will never be able to forget it. Every\nsummer when I find myself on the coast,--especially of very soft,\nstill days,--it haunts me most persistently. There are many native\nversions of it which have been the inspiration for countless works\nof art. But the most impressive and the most ancient is found in the\n\"Manyefushifu,\" a collection of poems dating from the fifth to the\nninth century. From this ancient version the great scholar Aston\ntranslated it into prose, and the great scholar Chamberlain into both\nprose and verse. But for English readers I think the most charming form\nof it is Chamberlain's version written for children, in the \"Japanese\nFairy-Tale Series,\"--because of the delicious colored pictures by\nnative artists. With that little book before me, I shall try to tell\nthe legend over again in my own words.\n\n\nFourteen hundred and sixteen years ago, the fisher-boy Urashima Taro\nleft the shore of Suminoy\u00e9 in his boat.\n\nSummer days were then as now,--all drowsy and tender blue, with only\nsome light, pure white clouds hanging over the mirror of the sea. Then,\ntoo, were the hills the same,--far blue soft shapes melting into the\nblue sky. And the winds were lazy.\n\nAnd presently the boy, also lazy, let his boat drift as he fished. It\nwas a queer boat, unpainted and rudderless, of a shape you probably\nnever saw. But still, after fourteen hundred years, there are such\nboats to be seen in front of the ancient fishing-hamlets of the coast\nof the Sea of Japan.\n\nAfter long waiting, Urashima caught something, and drew it up to him.\nBut he found it was only a tortoise.\n\nNow a tortoise is sacred to the Dragon God of the Sea, and the period\nof its natural life is a thousand--some say ten thousand--years. So\nthat to kill it is very wrong. The boy gently unfastened the creature\nfrom his line, and set it free, with a prayer to the gods.\n\nBut he caught nothing more. And the day was very warm; and sea and air\nand all things were very, very silent. And a great drowsiness grew upon\nhim,--and he slept in his drifting boat.\n\nThen out of the dreaming of the sea rose up a beautiful girl,--just\nas you can see her in the picture to Professor Chamberlain's\n\"Urashima,\"--robed in crimson and blue, with long black hair flowing\ndown her back even to her feet, after the fashion of a prince's\ndaughter fourteen hundred years ago.\n\nGliding over the waters she came, softly as air; and she stood above\nthe sleeping boy in the boat, and woke him with a light touch, and\nsaid:--\n\n\"Do not be surprised. My father, the Dragon King of the Sea, sent me to\nyou, because of your kind heart. For to-day you set free a tortoise.\nAnd now we will go to my father's palace in the island where summer\nnever dies; and I will be your flower-wife if you wish; and we shall\nlive there happily forever.\"\n\nAnd Urashima wondered more and more as he looked upon her; for she\nwas more beautiful than any human being, and he could not but love\nher. Then he took one oar, and he took another, and they rowed away\ntogether,--just as you may still see, off the far western coast, wife\nand husband rowing together, when the fishing-boats flit into the\nevening gold.\n\nThey rowed away softly and swiftly over the silent blue water down into\nthe south,--till they came to the island where summer never dies,--and\nto the palace of the Dragon King of the Sea.\n\n[Here the text of the little book suddenly shrinks away as you read,\nand faint blue ripplings flood the page; and beyond them in a fairy\nhorizon you can see the long low soft shore of the island, and peaked\nroofs rising through evergreen foliage--the roofs of the Sea God's\npalace--like the palace of the Mikado Yuriaku, fourteen hundred and\nsixteen years ago.]\n\nThere strange servitors came to receive them in robes of\nceremony--creatures of the Sea, who paid greeting to Urashima as the\nson-in-law of the Dragon King.\n\nSo the Sea God's daughter became the bride of Urashima; and it was a\nbridal of wondrous splendor; and in the Dragon Palace there was great\nrejoicing.\n\nAnd each day for Urashima there were new wonders and new\npleasures:--wonders of the deepest deep brought up by the servants of\nthe Ocean God;--pleasures of that enchanted land where summer never\ndies. And so three years passed.\n\nBut in spite of all these things, the fisher-boy felt always a\nheaviness at his heart when he thought of his parents waiting alone. So\nthat at last he prayed his bride to let him go home for a little while\nonly, just to say one word to his father and mother,--after which he\nwould hasten hack to her.\n\nAt these words she began to weep; and for a long time she continued to\nweep silently. Then she said to him: \"Since you wish to go, of course\nyou must go. I fear your going very much; I fear we shall never see\neach other again. But I will give you a little box to take with you. It\nwill help you to come hack to me if you will do what I tell you. Do not\nopen it. Above all things, do not open it,--no matter what may happen!\nBecause, if you open it, you will never be able to come hack, and you\nwill never see me again.\"\n\nThen she gave him a little lacquered box tied about with a silken cord.\n[And that box can be seen unto this day in the temple of Kanagawa, by\nthe seashore; and the priests there also keep Urashima Tar\u014d's fishing\nline, and some strange jewels which he brought back with him from the\nrealm of the Dragon King.]\n\nBut Urashima comforted his bride, and promised her never, never to open\nthe box--never even to loosen the silken string. Then he passed away\nthrough the summer light over the ever-sleeping sea;--and the shape of\nthe island where summer never dies faded behind him like a dream;--and\nhe saw again before him the blue mountains of Japan, sharpening in the\nwhite glow of the northern horizon.\n\nAgain at last he glided into his native bay;--again he stood upon its\nbeach. But as he looked, there came upon him a great bewilderment,--a\nweird doubt.\n\nFor the place was at once the same, and yet not the same. The cottage\nof his fathers had disappeared. There was a village; but the shapes\nof the houses were all strange, and the trees were strange, and the\nfields, and even the faces of the people. Nearly all remembered\nlandmarks were gone;--the Shint\u014d temple appeared to have been rebuilt\nin a new place; the woods had vanished from the neighboring slopes.\nOnly the voice of the little stream flowing through the settlement,\nand the forms of the mountains, were still the same. All else was\nunfamiliar and new. In vain he tried to find the dwelling of his\nparents; and the fisherfolk stared wonderingly at him; and he could not\nremember having ever seen any of those faces before.\n\nThere came along a very old man, leaning on a stick, and Urashima asked\nhim the way to the house of the Urashima family. But the old man looked\nquite astonished, and made him repeat the question many times, and then\ncried out:--\n\n\"Urashima Tar\u014d! Where do you come from that you do not know the story?\nUrashima Tar\u014d! Why, it is more than four hundred years since he was\ndrowned, and a monument is erected to his memory in the graveyard. The\ngraves of all his people are in that graveyard,--the old graveyard\nwhich is not now used any more. Urashima Tar\u014d! How can you he so\nfoolish as to ask where his house is?\" And the old man hobbled on,\nlaughing at the simplicity of his questioner.\n\nBut Urashima went to the village graveyard,--the old graveyard that\nwas not used any more,--and there he found his own tombstone, and\nthe tombstones of his father and his mother and his kindred, and\nthe tombstones of many others he had known. So old they were, so\nmoss-eaten, that it was very hard to read the names upon them.\n\nThen he knew himself the victim of some strange illusion, and he took\nhis way hack to the beach,--always carrying in his hand the box, the\ngift of the Sea God's daughter. But what was this illusion? And what\ncould be in that box? Or might not that which was in the box be the\ncause of the illusion? Doubt mastered faith. Recklessly he broke the\npromise made to his beloved;--he loosened the silken cord;--he opened\nthe box!\n\nInstantly, without any sound, there burst from it a white cold spectral\nvapor that rose in air like a summer cloud, and began to drift away\nswiftly into the south, over the silent sea. There was nothing else in\nthe box.\n\nAnd Urashima then knew that he had destroyed his own happiness,--that\nhe could never again return to his beloved, the daughter of the Ocean\nKing. So that he wept and cried out bitterly in his despair.\n\nYet for a moment only. In another, he himself was changed. An icy chill\nshot through all his blood;--his teeth fell out; his face shriveled;\nhis hair turned white as snow; his limbs withered; his strength ebbed;\nhe sank down lifeless on the sand, crushed by the weight of four\nhundred winters.\n\nNow in the official annals of the Emperors it is written that \"in the\ntwenty-first year of the Mikado Yuriaku, the boy Urashima of Midzunoy\u00e9,\nin the district of Yosa, in the province of Tango, a descendant of\nthe divinity Shimanemi, went to Elysium [_H\u014dra\u00ef_] in a fishing-boat.\"\nAfter this there is no more news of Urashima during the reigns of\nthirty-one emperors and empresses--that is, from the fifth until the\nninth century. And then the annals announce that \"in the second year\nof Tenchiy\u014d, in the reign of the Mikado Go-Junwa, the boy Urashima\nreturned, and presently departed again, none knew whither.\"[1]\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe fairy mistress came back to tell me that everything was ready,\nand tried to lift my valise in her slender hands,--which I prevented\nher from doing, because it was heavy. Then she laughed, but would not\nsuffer that I should carry it myself, and summoned a sea-creature with\nChinese characters upon his back. I made obeisance to her; and she\nprayed me to remember the unworthy house despite the rudeness of the\nmaidens. \"And you will pay the kurumaya,\" she said, \"only seventy-five\nsen.\"\n\nThen I slipped into the vehicle; and in a few minutes the little gray\ntown had vanished behind a curve. I was rolling along a white road\noverlooking the shore. To the right were pale brown cliffs; to the left\nonly space and sea.\n\nMile after mile I rolled along that shore, looking into the infinite\nlight. All was steeped in blue,--a marvelous blue, like that which\ncomes and goes in the heart of a great shell. Glowing blue sea met\nhollow blue sky in a brightness of electric fusion; and vast blue\napparitions--the mountains of Higo--angled up through the blaze, like\nmasses of amethyst. What a blue transparency! The universal color\nwas broken only by the dazzling white of a few high summer clouds,\nmotionlessly curled above one phantom peak in the offing. They threw\ndown upon the water snowy tremulous lights. Midges of ships creeping\nfar away seemed to pull long threads after them,--the only sharp lines\nin all that hazy glory. But what divine clouds! White purified spirits\nof clouds, resting on their way to the beatitude of Nirvana? Or perhaps\nthe mists escaped from Urashima's box a thousand years ago?\n\n\nThe gnat of the soul of me flitted out into that dream of blue, 'twixt\nsea and sun,--hummed back to the shore of Suminoy\u00e9 through the luminous\nghosts of fourteen hundred summers. Vaguely I felt beneath me the\ndrifting of a keel. It was the time of the Mikado Yuriaku. And the\nDaughter of the Dragon King said tinklingly,--\"Now we will go to my\nfather's palace where it is always blue.\" \"Why always blue?\" I asked.\n\"Because,\" she said, \"I put all the clouds into the Box.\" \"But I must\ngo home,\" I answered resolutely. \"Then,\" she said, \"you will pay the\nkurumaya only seventy-five sen.\"\n\n\nWherewith I woke into Doy\u014d, or the Period of Greatest Heat, in the\ntwenty-sixth year of Meiji--and saw proof of the era in a line of\ntelegraph poles reaching out of sight on the land side of the way. The\nkuruma was still fleeing by the shore, before the same blue vision of\nsky, peak, and sea; but the white clouds were gone!--and there were\nno more cliffs close to the road, but fields of rice and of barley\nstretching to far-off hills. The telegraph lines absorbed my attention\nfor a moment, because on the top wire, and only on the top wire, hosts\nof little birds were perched, all with their heads to the road, and\nnowise disturbed by our coming. They remained quite still, looking down\nupon us as mere passing phenomena. There were hundreds and hundreds\nin rank, for miles and miles. And I could not see one having its tail\nturned to the road. Why they sat thus, and what they were watching\nor waiting for, I could not guess. At intervals I waved my hat and\nshouted, to startle the ranks. Whereupon a few would rise up fluttering\nand chippering, and drop back again upon the wire in the same position\nas before. The vast majority refused to take me seriously.\n\n\nThe sharp rattle of the wheels was drowned by a deep booming; and as\nwe whirled past a village I caught sight of an immense drum under an\nopen shed, beaten by naked men.\n\n\"O kurumaya!\" I shouted--\"that--what is it?\"\n\nHe, without stopping, shouted back:--- \"Everywhere now the same thing\nis. Much time-in rain has not been: so the gods-to prayers are made,\nand drums are beaten.\" We flashed through other villages; and I saw\nand heard more drums of various sizes, and from hamlets invisible,\nover miles of parching rice-fields, yet other drums, like echoings,\nresponded.\n\n\n[1] See _The Classical Poetry of the Japanese_, by Professor\nChamberlain, in Tr\u00fcbner's _Oriental Series_. According to Western\nchronology, Urashima went fishing in 477 A.D., and returned in 825.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nThen I began to think about Urashima again. I thought of the pictures\nand poems and proverbs recording the influence of the legend upon the\nimagination of a race. I thought of an Izumo dancing-girl I saw at\na banquet acting the part of Urashima, with a little lacquered box\nwhence there issued at the tragical minute a mist of Ky\u014dto incense.\nI thought about the antiquity of the beautiful dance,--and therefore\nabout vanished generations of dancing-girls,--and therefore about dust\nin the abstract; which, again, led me to think of dust in the concrete,\nas bestirred by the sandals of the kurumaya to whom I was to pay only\nseventy-five sen. And I wondered how much of it might be old human\ndust, and whether in the eternal order of things the motion of hearts\nmight be of more consequence than the motion of dust. Then my ancestral\nmorality took alarm; and I tried to persuade myself that a story which\nhad lived for a thousand years, gaining fresher charm with the passing\nof every century, could only have survived by virtue of some truth in\nit. But what truth? For the time being I could find no answer to this\nquestion.\n\n\nThe heat had become very great; and I cried,--\n\n\"O kurumaya! the throat of Selfishness is dry; water desirable is.\"\n\nHe, still running, answered:--\n\n\"The Village of the Long Beach inside of--not far--a great gush-water\nis. There pure august water will be given.\"\n\nI cried again:--\n\n\"O kurumaya!--those little birds as-for, why this way always facing?\"\n\nHe, running still more swiftly, responded:--\"All birds wind-to facing\nsit.\"\n\nI laughed first at my own simplicity; then at my\nforgetfulness,--remembering I had been told the same thing, somewhere\nor other, when a boy. Perhaps the mystery of Urashima might also have\nbeen created by forgetfulness.\n\n\nI thought again about Urashima. I saw the Daughter of the Dragon King\nwaiting vainly in the palace made beautiful for his welcome,--and the\npitiless return of the Cloud, announcing what had happened,--and the\nloving uncouth sea-creatures, in their garments of great ceremony,\ntrying to comfort her. But in the real story there was nothing of all\nthis; and the pity of the people seemed to be all for Urashima. And I\nbegan to discourse with myself thus:--\n\nIs it right to pity Urashima at all? Of course he was bewildered by the\ngods. But who is not bewildered by the gods? What is Life itself but a\nbewilderment? And Urashima in his bewilderment doubted the purpose of\nthe gods, and opened the box. Then he died without any trouble, and the\npeople built a shrine to him as Urashima Mi\u014d-jin. Why, then, so much\npity?\n\nThings are quite differently managed in the West. After disobeying\nWestern gods, we have still to remain alive and to learn the height and\nthe breadth and the depth of superlative sorrow. We are not allowed to\ndie quite comfortably just at the best possible time: much less are we\nsuffered to become after death small gods in our own right. How can\nwe pity the folly of Urashima after he had lived so long alone with\nvisible gods.\n\nPerhaps the fact that we do may answer the riddle. This pity must be\nself-pity; wherefore the legend may be the legend of a myriad souls.\nThe thought of it comes just at a particular time of blue light and\nsoft wind,--and always like an old reproach. It has too intimate\nrelation to a season and the feeling of a season not to be also related\nto something real in one's life, or in the lives of one's ancestors.\nBut what was that real something? Who was the Daughter of the Dragon\nKing? Where was the island of unending summer? And what was the cloud\nin the box?\n\nI cannot answer all those questions. I know this only,--which is not at\nall new:--\n\n\nI have memory of a place and a magical time in which the Sun and the\nMoon were larger and brighter than now. Whether it was of this life or\nof some life before I cannot tell. But I know the sky was very much\nmore blue, and nearer to the world,--almost as it seems to become above\nthe masts of a steamer steaming into equatorial summer. The sea was\nalive, and used to talk,--and the Wind made me cry out for joy when\nit touched me. Once or twice during other years, in divine days lived\namong the peaks, I have dreamed just for a moment that the same wind\nwas blowing,--but it was only a remembrance.\n\nAlso in that place the clouds were wonderful, and of colors for which\nthere are no names at all,--colors that used to make me hungry and\nthirsty. I remember, too, that the days were ever so much longer\nthan these days,--and that every day there were new wonders and new\npleasures for me. And all that country and time were softly ruled by\nOne who thought only of ways to make me happy. Sometimes I would refuse\nto be made happy, and that always caused her pain, although she was\ndivine;--and I remember that I tried very hard to be sorry. When day\nwas done, and there fell the great hush of the light before moonrise,\nshe would tell me stories that made me tingle from head to foot with\npleasure. I have never heard any other stories half so beautiful. And\nwhen the pleasure became too great, she would sing a weird little song\nwhich always brought sleep. At last there came a parting day; and she\nwept, and told me of a charm she had given that I must never, never\nlose, because it would keep me young, and give me power to return. But\nI never returned. And the years went; and one day I knew that I had\nlost the charm, and had become ridiculously old.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nThe Village of the Long Beach is at the foot of a green cliff near the\nroad, and consists of a dozen thatched cottages clustered about a rocky\npool, shaded by pines. The basin overflows with cold water, supplied\nby a stream that leaps straight from the heart of the cliff,--just as\nfolks imagine that a poem ought to spring straight from the heart of a\npoet. It was evidently a favorite halting-place, judging by the number\nof kuruma and of people resting. There were benches under the trees;\nand, after having allayed thirst, I sat down to smoke and to look at\nthe women washing clothes and the travelers refreshing themselves at\nthe pool,--while my kurumaya stripped, and proceeded to dash buckets of\ncold water over his body. Then tea was brought me by a young man with\na baby on his back; and I tried to play with the baby, which said \"Ah,\nbah!\"\n\nSuch are the first sounds uttered by a Japanese babe. But they are\npurely Oriental; and in Itomaji should be written _Aba_. And, as\nan utterance untaught, _Aba_ is interesting. It is in Japanese\nchild-speech the word for \"good-by,\"--precisely the last we would\nexpect an infant to pronounce on entering into this world of illusion.\nTo whom or to what is the little soul saying good-by?--to friends in\na previous state of existence still freshly remembered?--to comrades\nof its shadowy journey from nobody--knows--where? Such theorizing is\ntolerably safe, from a pious point of view, since the child can never\ndecide for us. What its thoughts were at that mysterious moment of\nfirst speech, it will have forgotten long before it has become able to\nanswer questions.\n\nUnexpectedly, a queer recollection came to me,--resurrected, perhaps,\nby the sight of the young man with the baby,--perhaps by the song of\nthe water in the cliff: the recollection of a story:--\n\n\nLong, long ago there lived somewhere among the mountains a poor\nwood-cutter and his wife. They were very old, and had no children.\nEvery day the husband went alone to the forest to cut wood, while the\nwife sat weaving at home.\n\nOne day the old man went farther into the forest than was his custom,\nto seek a certain kind of wood; and he suddenly found himself at\nthe edge of a little spring he had never seen before. The water was\nstrangely clear and cold, and he was thirsty; for the day was hot,\nand he had been working hard. So he doffed his great straw hat, knelt\ndown, and took a long drink. That water seemed to refresh him in a most\nextraordinary way. Then he caught sight of his own face in the spring,\nand started back. It was certainly his own face, but not at all as he\nwas accustomed to see it in the old mirror at home. It was the face of\na very young man! He could not believe his eyes. He put up both hands\nto his head, which had been quite bald only a moment before. It was\ncovered with thick black hair. And his face had become smooth as a\nboy's; every wrinkle was gone. At the same moment he discovered himself\nfull of new strength. He stared in astonishment at the limbs that had\nbeen so long withered by age; they were now shapely and hard with dense\nyoung muscle. Unknowingly he had drunk at the Fountain of Youth; and\nthat draught had transformed him.\n\nFirst, he leaped high and shouted for joy; then he ran home faster than\nhe had ever run before in his life. When he entered his house his wife\nwas frightened,--because she took him for a stranger; and when he told\nher the wonder, she could not at once believe him. But after a long\ntime he was able to convince her that the young man she now saw before\nher was really her husband; and he told her where the spring was, and\nasked her to go there with him.\n\nThen she said: \"You have become so handsome and so young that you\ncannot continue to love an old woman;--so I must drink some of that\nwater immediately. But it will never do for both of us to be away from\nthe house at the same time. Do you wait here while I go.\" And she ran\nto the woods all by herself.\n\nShe found the spring and knelt down, and began to drink. Oh! how cool\nand sweet that water was! She drank and drank and drank, and stopped\nfor breath only to begin again.\n\nHer husband waited for her impatiently; he expected to see her come\nback changed into a pretty slender girl. But she did not come back at\nall. He got anxious, shut up the house, and went to look for her.\n\nWhen he reached the spring, he could not see her. He was just on the\npoint of returning when he heard a little wail in the high grass near\nthe spring. He searched there and discovered his wife's clothes and a\nbaby,--a very small baby, perhaps six months old!\n\nFor the old woman had drunk too deeply of the magical water; she had\ndrunk herself far back beyond the time of youth into the period of\nspeechless infancy.\n\nHe took up the child in his arms. It looked at him in a sad, wondering\nway. He carried it home,--murmuring to it,--thinking strange,\nmelancholy thoughts.\n\n\nIn that hour, after my reverie about Urashima, the moral of this story\nseemed less satisfactory than in former time. Because by drinking too\ndeeply of life we do not become young.\n\n\nNaked and cool my kurumaya returned, and said that because of the heat\nhe could not finish the promised run of twenty-five miles, but that he\nhad found another runner to take me the rest of the way. For so much as\nhe himself had done, he wanted fifty-five sen.\n\nIt was really very hot--more than 100\u00b0 I afterwards learned; and far\naway there throbbed continually, like a pulsation of the beat itself,\nthe sound of great drums beating for rain. And I thought of the\nDaughter of the Dragon King.\n\n\"Seventy-five sen, she told me,\" I observed;--\"and that promised to be\ndone has not been done. Nevertheless, seventy-five sen to you shall be\ngiven,--because I am afraid of the gods.\"\n\nAnd behind a yet unwearied runner I fled away into the enormous\nblaze--in the direction of the great drums.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nWITH KY\u016aSH\u016a STUDENTS\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe students of the Government College, or Higher Middle School,\ncan scarcely be called boys; their ages ranging from the average of\neighteen, for the lowest class, to that of twenty-five for the highest.\nPerhaps the course is too long. The best pupil can hardly hope to reach\nthe Imperial University before his twenty-third year, and will require\nfor his entrance thereinto a mastery of written Chinese as well as a\ngood practical knowledge of either English and German, or of English\nand French.[1] Thus he is obliged to learn three languages besides all\nthat relates to the elegant literature of his own; and the weight of\nhis task cannot be understood without knowledge of the fact that his\nstudy of Chinese alone is equal to the labor of acquiring six European\ntongues.\n\nThe impression produced upon me by the Kumamoto students was very\ndifferent from that received on my first acquaintance with my Izumo\npupils. This was not only because the former had left well behind them\nthe delightfully amiable period of Japanese boyhood, and had developed\ninto earnest, taciturn men, but also because they represented to a\nmarked degree what is called Ky\u016bsh\u016b character. Ky\u016bsh\u016b still remains,\nas of yore, the most conservative part of Japan, and Kumamoto, its\nchief city, the centre of conservative feeling. This conservatism is,\nhowever, both rational and practical. Ky\u016bsh\u016b was not slow in adopting\nrailroads, improved methods of agriculture, applications of science\nto certain industries; but remains of all districts of the Empire\nthe least inclined to imitation of Western manners and customs. The\nancient samurai spirit still lives on; and that spirit in Ky\u016bsh\u016b was\nfor centuries one that exacted severe simplicity in habits of life.\nSumptuary laws against extravagance in dress and other forms of luxury\nused to be rigidly enforced; and though the laws themselves have been\nobsolete for a generation, their influence continues to appear in\nthe very simple attire and the plain, direct manners of the people.\nKumamoto folk are also said to be characterized by their adherence to\ntraditions of conduct which have been almost forgotten elsewhere, and\nby a certain independent frankness in speech and action, difficult\nfor any foreigner to define, but immediately apparent to an educated\nJapanese. And here, too, under the shadow of Kiyomasa's mighty\nfortress,--now occupied by an immense garrison,--national sentiment is\ndeclared to be stronger than in the very capital itself,--the spirit\nof loyalty and the love of country. Kumamoto is proud of all these\nthings, and boasts of her traditions. Indeed, she has nothing else to\nboast of. A vast, straggling, dull, unsightly town is Kumamoto: there\nare no quaint, pretty streets, no great temples, no wonderful gardens.\nBurnt to the ground in the civil war of the tenth Meiji, the place\nstill gives you the impression of a wilderness of flimsy shelters\nerected in haste almost before the soil had ceased to smoke. There are\nno remarkable places to visit (not, at least, within city limits),--no\nsights,--few amusements. For this very reason the college is thought\nto be well located: there are neither temptations nor distractions for\nits inmates. But for another reason, also, rich men far away in the\ncapital try to send their sons to Kumamoto. It is considered desirable\nthat a young man should be imbued with what is called \"the Ky\u016bsh\u016b\nspirit,\" and should acquire what might be termed the Ky\u016bsh\u016b \"tone.\" The\nstudents of Kumamoto are said to be the most peculiar students in the\nEmpire by reason of this \"tone.\" I have never been able to learn enough\nabout it to define it well; but it is evidently a something akin to the\ndeportment of the old Ky\u016bsh\u016b samurai. Certainly the students sent from\nTokyo or Kyoto to Ky\u016bsh\u016b have to adapt themselves to a very different\n_milieu_. The Kumamoto, and also the Kagoshima youths,--whenever not\nobliged to don military uniform for drill-hours and other special\noccasions,--still cling to a costume somewhat resembling that of the\nancient bushi, and therefore celebrated in sword-songs---the short robe\nand hakama reaching a little below the knee, and sandals. The material\nof the dress is cheap, coarse, and sober in color; cleft stockings\n(_tabi_) are seldom worn, except in very cold weather, or during\nlong marches, to keep the sandal-thongs from cutting into the flesh.\nWithout being rough, the manners are not soft; and the lads seem to\ncultivate a certain outward hardness of character. They can preserve\nan imperturbable exterior under quite extraordinary circumstances, but\nunder this self-control there is a fiery consciousness of strength\nwhich will show itself in a menacing form on rare occasions. They\ndeserve to be termed rugged men, too, in their own Oriental way. Some\nI know, who, though born to comparative wealth, find no pleasure so\nkeen as that of trying how much physical hardship they can endure. The\ngreater number would certainly give up their lives without hesitation\nrather than their high principles. And a rumor of national danger\nwould instantly transform the whole four hundred into a body of iron\nsoldiery. But their outward demeanor is usually impassive to a degree\nthat is difficult even to understand.\n\nFor a long time I used to wonder in vain what feelings, sentiments,\nideas might be hidden beneath all that unsmiling placidity. The native\nteachers, _de facto_ government officials, did not appear to be on\nintimate terms with any of their pupils: there was no trace of that\naffectionate familiarity I had seen in Izumo; the relation between\ninstructors and instructed seemed to begin and end with the bugle-calls\nby which classes were assembled and dismissed. In this I afterwards\nfound myself partly mistaken; still such relations as actually existed\nwere for the most part formal rather than natural, and quite unlike\nthose old-fashioned, loving sympathies of which the memory had always\nremained with me since my departure from the Province of the Gods.\n\nBut later on, at frequent intervals, there came to me suggestions of an\ninner life much more attractive than this outward seeming,--hints of\nemotional individuality. A few I obtained in casual conversations, but\nthe most remarkable in written themes. Subjects given for composition\noccasionally coaxed out some totally unexpected blossoming of thoughts\nand feelings. A very pleasing fact was the total absence of any false\nshyness, or indeed shyness of any sort: the young men were not ashamed\nto write exactly what they felt or hoped. They would write about their\nhomes, about their reverential love to their parents, about happy\nexperiences of their childhood, about their friendships, about their\nadventures during the holidays; and this often in a way I thought\nbeautiful, because of its artless, absolute sincerity. After a number\nof such surprises, I learned to regret keenly that I had not from the\noutset kept notes upon all the remarkable compositions received. Once\na week I used to read aloud and correct in class a selection from the\nbest handed in, correcting the remainder at home. The very best I could\nnot always presume to read aloud and criticise for the general benefit,\nbecause treating of matters too sacred to be methodically commented\nupon, as the following examples may show.\n\nI had given as a subject for English composition this question: \"What\ndo men remember longest?\" One student answered that we remember our\nhappiest moments longer than we remember all other experiences, because\nit is in the nature of every rational being to try to forget what is\ndisagreeable or painful as soon as possible. I received many still\nmore ingenious answers,--some of which gave proof of a really keen\npsychological study of the question. But I liked best of all the simple\nreply of one who thought that painful events are longest remembered.\nHe wrote exactly what follows: I found it needless to alter a single\nword:--\n\n\n\"What do men remember longest? I think men remember longest that which\nthey hear or see under painful circumstances.\n\n\"When I was only four years old, my dear, dear mother died. It was a\nwinter's day. The wind was blowing hard in the trees, and round the\nroof of our house. There were no leaves on the branches of the trees.\nQuails were whistling in the distance,--making melancholy sounds. I\nrecall something I did. As my mother was lying in bed,--a little\nbefore she died,--I gave her a sweet orange. She smiled and took it,\nand tasted it. It was the last time she smiled.... From the moment\nwhen she ceased to breathe to this hour more than sixteen years have\nelapsed. But to me the time is as a moment. Now also it is winter. The\nwinds that blew when my mother died blow just as then; the quails utter\nthe same cries; all things are the same. But my mother has gone away,\nand will never come back again.\"\n\n\nThe following, also, was written in reply to the same question:--\n\n\n\"The greatest sorrow in my life was my father's death. I was seven\nyears old. I can remember that he had been ill all day, and that my\ntoys had been put aside, and that I tried to be very quiet. I had\nnot seen him that morning, and the day seemed very long. At last I\nstole into my father's room, and put my lips close to his cheek, and\nwhispered, '_Father! father!_'--and his cheek was very cold. He did\nnot speak. My uncle came, and carried me out of the room, but said\nnothing. Then I feared my father would die, because his cheek felt cold\njust as my little sister's had been when she died. In the evening a\ngreat many neighbors and other people came to the house, and caressed\nme, so that I was happy for a time. But they carried my father away\nduring the night, and I never saw him after.\"\n\n\n[1] This essay was written early in 1894. Since then, the study of\nFrench and of German has been made optional instead of obligatory, and\nthe Higher School course considerably shortened, by a wise decision\nof the late Minister of Education, Mr. Inouye. It is to be hoped that\nmeasures will eventually be taken to render possible making the study\nof English also optional. Under existing conditions the study is forced\nupon hundreds who can never obtain any benefit from it.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nFrom the foregoing one might suppose a simple style characteristic\nof English compositions in Japanese higher schools. Yet the reverse\nis the fact. There is a general tendency to prefer big words to\nlittle ones, and long complicated sentences to plain short periods.\nFor this there are some reasons which would need a philological\nessay by Professor Chamberlain to explain. But the tendency in\nitself--constantly strengthened by the absurd text-books in use--can\nbe partly understood from the fact that the very simplest forms of\nEnglish expression are the most obscure to a Japanese,--because they\nare idiomatic. The student finds them riddles, since the root-ideas\nbehind them are so different from his own that, to explain those ideas,\nit is first necessary to know something of Japanese psychology; and in\navoiding simple idioms he follows instinctively the direction of least\nresistance.\n\nI tried to cultivate an opposite tendency by various devices. Sometimes\nI would write familiar stories for the class, all in simple sentences,\nand in words of one syllable. Sometimes I would suggest themes to\nwrite upon, of which the nature almost compelled simple treatment. Of\ncourse I was not very successful in my purpose, but one theme chosen\nin relation to it--\"My First Day at School\"--evoked a large number of\ncompositions that interested me in quite another way, as revelations\nof sincerity of feeling and of character. I offer a few selections,\nslightly abridged and corrected. Their na\u00efvet\u00e9 is not their least\ncharm,--especially if one reflect they are not the recollections of\nboys. The following seemed to me one of the best:--\n\n\n\"I could not go to school until I was eight years old. I had often\nbegged my father to let me go, for all my playmates were already\nat school; but he would not, thinking I was not strong enough. So I\nremained at home, and played with my brother.\n\n\"My brother accompanied me to school the first day. He spoke to the\nteacher, and then left me. The teacher took me into a room, and\ncommanded me to sit on a bench, then he also left me. I felt sad as I\nsat there in silence: there was no brother to play with now,--only many\nstrange boys. A bell ring twice; and a teacher entered our classroom,\nand told us to take out our slates. Then he wrote a Japanese character\non the blackboard, and told us to copy it. That day he taught us how to\nwrite two Japanese words, and told us some story about a good boy. When\nI returned home I ran to my mother, and knelt down by her side to tell\nher what the teacher had taught me. Oh! how great my pleasure then was!\nI cannot even tell how I felt,--much less write it. I can only say that\nI then thought the teacher was a more learned man than father, or any\none else whom I knew,--the most awful, and yet the most kindly person\nin the world.\"\n\n\nThe following also shows the teacher in a very pleasing light:--\n\n\n\"My brother and sister took me to school the first day. I thought I\ncould sit beside them in the school, as I used to do at home; but\nthe teacher ordered me to go to a classroom which was very far away\nfrom that of my brother and sister. I insisted upon remaining with my\nbrother and sister; and when the teacher said that could not be, I\ncried and made a great noise. Then they allowed my brother to leave\nhis own class, and accompany me to mine. But after a while I found\nplaymates in my own class; and then I was not afraid to be without my\nbrother.\"\n\n\nThis also is quite pretty and true:--\n\n\n\"A teacher--(I think, the head master) called me to him, and told me\nthat I must become a great scholar. Then he bade some man take me into\na classroom where there were forty or fifty scholars. I felt afraid and\npleased at the same time, at the thought of having so many playfellows.\nThey looked at me shyly, and I at them. I was at first afraid to speak\nto them. Little boys are innocent like that. But after a while, in some\nway or other, we began to play together; and they seemed to be pleased\nto have me play with them.\"\n\n\nThe above three compositions were by young men who had their first\nschooling under the existing educational system, which prohibits\nharshness on the part of masters. But it would seem that the teachers\nof the previous era were less tender. Here are three compositions by\nolder students who appear to have had quite a different experience:--\n\n\n1. \"Before Meiji, there were no such public schools in Japan as there\nare now. But in every province there was a sort of student society\ncomposed of the sons of Samurai. Unless a man were a Samurai, his son\ncould not enter such a society. It was under the control of the Lord\nof the province, who appointed a director to rule the students. The\nprincipal study of the Samurai was that of the Chinese language and\nliterature. Most of the Statesmen of the present government were\nonce students in such Samurai schools. Common citizens and country,\npeople had to send their sons and daughters to primary schools called\n_Terakoya_, where all the teaching was usually done by one teacher.\nIt consisted of little more than reading, writing, calculating, and\nsome moral instruction. We could learn to write an ordinary letter,\nor a very easy essay. At eight years old, I was sent to a terakoya,\nas I was not the son of a Samurai. At first I did not want to go; and\nevery morning my grandfather had to strike me with his stick to make\nme go. The discipline at that school was very severe. If a boy did\nnot obey, he was beaten with a bamboo,--being held down to receive\nhis punishment. After a year, many public schools were opened: and I\nentered a public school.\"\n\n\n2. \"A great gate, a pompous building, a very large dismal room with\nbenches in rows,--these I remember. The teachers looked very severe;\nI did not like their faces. I sat on a bench in the room and felt\nhateful. The teachers seemed unkind; none of the boys knew me, or\nspoke to me. A teacher stood up by the blackboard, and began to call\nthe names. He had a whip in his band. He called my name. I could not\nanswer, and burst out crying. So I was sent borne. That was my first\nday at school.\"\n\n\n3. \"When I was seven years old I was obliged to enter a school in my\nnative village. My father gave me two or three writing-brushes and some\npaper;--I was very glad to get them, and promised to study as earnestly\nas I could. But how unpleasant the first day at school was! When I went\nto the school, none of the students knew me, and I found myself without\na friend. I entered a classroom. A teacher, with a whip in his hand,\ncalled my name in a _large_ voice. I was very much surprised at it,\nand so frightened that I could not help crying. The boys laughed very\nloudly at me; but the teacher scolded them, and whipped one of them,\nand then said to me, 'Don't be afraid of my voice: what is your name?'\nI told him my name, snuffling. I thought then that school was a very\ndisagreeable place, where we could neither weep nor laugh. I wanted\nonly to go back home at once; and though I felt it was out of my power\nto go, I could scarcely bear to stay until the lessons were over. When\nI returned home at last, I told my father what I had felt at school,\nand said: 'I do not like to go to school at all.'\"\n\n\nNeedless to say the next memory is of Meiji. It gives, as a\ncomposition, evidence of what we should call in the West, character.\nThe suggestion of self-reliance at six years old is delicious: so is\nthe recollection of the little sister taking off her white tabi to deck\nher child-brother on his first school-day:--\n\n\n\"I was six years old. My mother awoke me early. My sister gave me her\nown stockings (_tabi_) to wear,--and I felt very happy. Father ordered\na servant to attend me to the school; but I refused to be accompanied:\nI wanted to feel that I could go all by myself. So I went alone; and,\nas the school was not far from the house, I soon found myself in front\nof the gate. There I stood still a little while, because I knew none\nof the children I saw going in. Boys and girls were passing into\nthe schoolyard, accompanied by servants or relatives; and inside I\nsaw others playing games which filled me with envy. But all at once\na little boy among the players saw me, and with a laugh came running\nto me. Then I was very happy. I walked to and fro with him, hand in\nhand. At last a teacher called all of us into a schoolroom, and made a\nspeech which I could not understand. After that we were free for the\nday because it was the first day. I returned home with my friend. My\nparents were waiting for me, with fruits and cakes; and my friend and I\nate them together.\"\n\n\nAnother writes:--\n\n\n\"When I first went to school I was six years old. I remember only that\nmy grandfather carried my books and slate for me, and that the teacher\nand the boys were very, very, very kind and good to me,--so that I\nthought school was a paradise in this world, and did not want to return\nhome.\"\n\nI think this little bit of natural remorse is also worth the writing\ndown:--\n\n\"I was eight years old when I first went to school. I was a bad boy.\nI remember on the way home from school I had a quarrel with one of\nmy playmates,--younger than I. He threw a very little stone at me\nwhich hit me. I took a branch of a tree lying in the road, and struck\nhim across the face with all my might. Then I ran away, leaving him\ncrying in the middle of the road. My heart told me what I had done.\nAfter reaching my home, I thought I still heard him crying. My little\nplaymate is not any more in this world now. Can any one know my\nfeelings?\"\n\n\nAll this capacity of young men to turn back with perfect naturalness\nof feeling to scenes of their childhood appears to me essentially\nOriental. In the Occident men seldom begin to recall their childhood\nvividly before the approach of the autumn season of life. But childhood\nin Japan is certainly happier than in other lands, and therefore\nperhaps is regretted earlier in adult life. The following extract from\na student's record of his holiday experience touchingly expresses such\nregret:\n\n\n\"During the spring vacation, I went home to visit my parents. Just\nbefore the end of the holidays, when it was nearly time for me to\nreturn to the college, I heard that the students of the middle school\nof my native town were also going to Kumamoto on an excursion, and I\nresolved to go with them.\n\n\"They marched in military order with their rifles. I had no rifle, so\nI took my place in the rear of the column. We marched all day, keeping\ntime to military songs which we sung all together.\n\n\"In the evening we reached Soyeda. The teachers and students of the\nSoyeda school, and the chief men of the village, welcomed us. Then\nwe were separated into detachments, each of which was quartered in a\ndifferent hotel. I entered a hotel, with the last detachment, to rest\nfor the night.\n\n\"But I could not sleep for a long time. Five years before, on a similar\n'military excursion,' I had rested in that very hotel, as a student of\nthe same middle school. I remembered the fatigue and the pleasure;\nand I compared my feelings of the moment with the recollection of my\nfeelings then as a boy. I could not help a weak wish to be young again\nlike my companions. They were fast asleep, tired with their long march;\nand I sat up and looked at their faces. How pretty their faces seemed\nin that young sleep!\"\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe preceding selections give no more indication of the general\ncharacter of the students' compositions than might be furnished by any\nchoice made to illustrate a particular feeling. Examples of ideas and\nsentiments from themes of a graver kind would show variety of thought\nand not a little originality in method, but would require much space.\nA few notes, however, copied out of my class-register, will be found\nsuggestive, if not exactly curious.\n\nAt the summer examinations of 1893 I submitted to the graduating\nclasses, for a composition theme, the question, \"What is eternal in\nliterature?\" I expected original answers, as the subject had never\nbeen discussed by us, and was certainly new to the pupils, so far as\ntheir knowledge of Western thought was concerned. Nearly all the papers\nproved interesting. I select twenty replies as examples. Most of them\nimmediately preceded a long discussion, but a few were embodied in the\ntext of the essay:--\n\n\n1. \"Truth and Eternity are identical: these make the Full Circle,--in\nChinese, Yen-Man.\"\n\n2. \"All that in human life and conduct which is according to the laws\nof the Universe.\"\n\n3. \"The lives of patriots, and the teachings of those who have given\npure maxims to the world.\"\n\n4. \"Filial Piety, and the doctrine of its teachers. Vainly the books\nof Confucius were burned during the Shin dynasty; they are translated\nto-day into all the languages of the civilized world.\"\n\n5. \"Ethics, and scientific truth.\"\n\n6. \"Both evil and good are eternal, said a Chinese sage. We should read\nonly that which is good.\"\n\n7. \"The great thoughts and ideas of our ancestors.\"\n\n8. \"For a thousand million centuries truth is truth.\"\n\n9. \"Those ideas of right and wrong upon which all schools of ethics\nagree.\"\n\n10. \"Books which rightly explain the phenomena of the Universe.\"\n\n11. \"Conscience alone is unchangeable. Wherefore books about ethics\nbased upon conscience are eternal.\"\n\n12. \"Reasons for noble action: these remain unchanged by time.\"\n\n13. \"Books written upon the best moral means of giving the greatest\npossible happiness to the greatest possible number of people,--that is,\nto mankind.\"\n\n14. \"The Goky\u014d (the Five Great Chinese Classics).\"\n\n15. \"The holy books of China, and of the Buddhists.\"\n\n16. \"All that which teaches the Right and Pure Way of human conduct.\"\n\n17. \"The Story of Kusunoki Masaskig\u00e9, who vowed to be reborn seven\ntimes to fight against the enemies of his Sovereign.\"\n\n18. \"Moral sentiment, without which the world would be only an enormous\nclod of earth, and all books waste-paper.\"\n\n19. \"The Tao-te-King.\"\n\n20. Same as 19, but with this comment. \"He who reads that which is\neternal, _his soul shall hover eternally in the Universe._\"\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nSome particularly Oriental sentiments were occasionally drawn out\nthrough discussions. The discussions were based upon stories which I\nwould relate to a class by word of mouth, and invite written or spoken\ncomment about. The results of such a discussion are hereafter set\nforth. At the time it took place, I had already told the students of\nthe higher classes a considerable number of stories. I had told them\nmany of the Greek myths; among which that of \u0152dipus and the Sphinx\nseemed especially to please them, because of the hidden moral, and\nthat of Orpheus, like all our musical legends, to have no interest\nfor them. I had also told them a variety of our most famous modern\nstories. The marvelous tale of \"Rappacini's Daughter\" proved greatly\nto their liking; and the spirit of Hawthorne might have found no\nlittle ghostly pleasure in their interpretation of it. \"Monos and\nDaimonos\" found favor; and Poe's wonderful fragment, \"Silence,\" was\nappreciated after a fashion that surprised me. On the other hand,\nthe story of \"Frankenstein\" impressed them very little. None took it\nseriously. For Western minds the tale must always hold a peculiar\nhorror, because of the shock it gives to feelings evolved under\nthe influence of Hebraic ideas concerning the origin of life, the\ntremendous character of divine prohibitions, and the awful punishments\ndestined for those who would tear the veil from Nature's secrets, or\nmock, even unconsciously, the work of a jealous Creator. But to the\nOriental mind, unshadowed by such grim faith,--feeling no distance\nbetween gods and men,--conceiving life as a multiform whole ruled by\none uniform law that shapes the consequence of every act into a reward\nor a punishment,--the ghastliness of the story makes no appeal. Most of\nthe written criticisms showed me that it was generally regarded as a\ncomic or semi-comic parable. After all this, I was rather puzzled one\nmorning by the request for a \"very strong moral story of the Western\nkind.\"\n\nI suddenly resolved--though knowing I was about to venture on dangerous\nground--to try the full effect of a certain Arthurian legend which I\nfelt sure somebody would criticise with a vim. The moral is rather\nmore than \"very strong;\" and for that reason I was curious to hear the\nresult.\n\nSo I related to them the story of Sir Bors, which is in the sixteenth\nbook of Sir Thomas Mallory's \"Morte d'Arthur,\"--\"how Sir Bors met his\nbrother Sir Lionel taken and beaten with thorns,--and of a maid which\nshould have been dishonored,--and how Sir Bors left his brother to\nrescue the damsel,---and how it was told them that Lionel was dead.\"\nBut I did not try to explain to them the knightly idealism imaged in\nthe beautiful old tale, as I wished to hear them comment, in their own\nOriental way, upon the bare facts of the narrative.\n\nWhich they did as follows:--\n\n\"The action of Mallory's knight,\" exclaimed Iwai, \"was contrary even\nto the principles of Christianity,--if it be true that the Christian\nreligion declares all men brothers. Such conduct might be right if\nthere were no society in the world. But while any society exists\nwhich is formed of families, family love must be the strength of that\nsociety; and the action of that knight was against family love, and\ntherefore against society. The principle he followed was opposed not\nonly to all society, but was contrary to all religion, and contrary to\nthe morals of all countries.\"\n\n\"The story is certainly immoral,\" said Orito. \"What it relates is\nopposed to all our ideas of love and loyalty, and even seems to us\ncontrary to nature. Loyalty is not a mere duty. It must be from the\nheart, or it is not loyally. It must be an inborn feeling. And it is in\nthe nature of every Japanese.\"\n\n\"It is a horrible story,\" said And\u014d. \"Philanthropy itself is only an\nexpansion of fraternal love. The man who could abandon his own brother\nto death merely to save a strange woman was a wicked man. Perhaps he\nwas influenced by passion.\"\n\n\"No,\" I said: \"you forget I told you that there was no selfishness in\nhis action,--that it must be interpreted as a heroism.\"\n\n\"I think the explanation of the story must be religious,\" said\nYasukochi. \"It seems strange to us; but that may be because we do\nnot understand Western ideas very well. Of course to abandon one's\nown brother in order to save a strange woman is contrary to all our\nknowledge of right. But if that knight was a man of pure heart, he\nmust have imagined himself obliged to do it because of some promise\nor some duty. Even then it must have seemed to him a very painful and\ndisgraceful thing to do, and he could not have done it without feeling\nthat he was acting against the teaching of his own heart.\"\n\n\"There you are right,\" I answered. \"But you should also know that the\nsentiment obeyed by Sir Bors is one which still influences the conduct\nof brave and noble men in the societies of the West,--even of men who\ncannot be called religious at all in the common sense of that word.\"\n\n\"Still, we think it a very bad sentiment,\" said Iwai; \"and we would\nrather hear another story about another form of society.\"\n\nThen it occurred to me to tell them the immortal story of Alkestis. I\nthought for the moment that the character of Herakles in that divine\ndrama would have a particular charm for them. But the comments proved I\nwas mistaken. No one even referred to Herakles. Indeed I ought to have\nremembered that our ideals of heroism, strength of purpose, contempt of\ndeath, do not readily appeal to Japanese youth. And this for the reason\nthat no Japanese gentleman regards such qualities as exceptional.\nHe considers heroism a matter of course--something belonging to\nmanhood and inseparable from it. He would say that a woman may be\nafraid without shame, but never a man. Then as a mere idealization of\nphysical force, Herakles could interest Orientals very little: their\nown mythology teems with impersonations of strength; and, besides,\ndexterity, sleight, quickness, are much more admired by a true Japanese\nthan strength. No Japanese boy would sincerely wish to be like the\ngiant Benkei; but Yoshitsune, the slender, supple conqueror and master\nof Benkei, remains an ideal of perfect knighthood dear to the hearts of\nall Japanese youth.\n\nKamekawa said:--\n\n\"The story of Alkestis, or at least the story of Admetus, is a story\nof cowardice, disloyalty, immorality. The conduct of Admetus was\nabominable. His wife was indeed noble and virtuous--too good a wife for\nso shameless a man. I do not believe that the father of Admetus would\nnot have been willing to die for his son if his son had been worthy. I\nthink he would gladly have died for his son had he not been disgusted\nby the cowardice of Admetus. And how disloyal the subjects of Admetus\nwere! The moment they heard of their king's danger they should have\nrushed to the palace, and humbly begged that they might be allowed to\ndie in his stead. However cowardly or cruel he might have been, that\nwas their duty. They were his subjects. They lived by his favor. Yet\nhow disloyal they were! A country inhabited by such shameless people\nmust soon have gone to ruin. Of course, as the story says, 'it is sweet\nto live.' Who does not love life? Who does not dislike to die? But no\nbrave man--no loyal man even--should so much as think about his life\nwhen duty requires him to give it.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Midzuguchi, who had joined us a little too late to hear\nthe beginning of the narration, \"perhaps Admetus was actuated by\nfilial piety. Had I been Admetus, and found no one among my subjects\nwilling to die for me, I should have said to my wife: 'Dear wife, I\ncannot leave my father alone now, because he has no other son, and his\ngrandsons are still too young to be of use to him. Therefore, if you\nlove me, please die in my place.'\"\n\n\"You do not understand the story,\" said Yasukochi. \"Filial piety did\nnot exist in Admetus. He wished that his father should have died for\nhim.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" exclaimed the apologist in real surprise,--\"that is not a nice\nstory, teacher!\"\n\n\"Admetus,\" declared Kawabuchi, \"was everything which is bad. He was a\nhateful coward, because he was afraid to die; he was a tyrant, because\nhe wanted his subjects to die for him; he was an unfilial son because\nhe wanted his old father to die in his place; and he was an unkind\nhusband, because he asked his wife--a weak woman with little children\n--to do what _he_ was afraid to do as a man. What could be baser than\nAdmetus?\"\n\n\"But Alkestis,\" said Iwai,--\"Alkestis was all that is good. For she\ngave up her children and everything,--even like the Buddha [_Shaka_]\nhimself. Yet she was very young. How true and brave! The beauty of\nher face might perish like a spring-blossoming, but the beauty of\nher act should be remembered for a thousand times a thousand years.\nEternally her soul will hover in the universe. Formless she is now; but\nit is the Formless who teach us more kindly than our kindest living\nteachers,--the souls of all who have done pure, brave, wise deeds.\"\n\n\"The wife of Admetus,\" said Kumamoto, inclined to austerity in his\njudgments, \"was simply obedient. She was not entirely blameless. For,\nbefore her death, it was her highest duty to have severely reproached\nher husband for his foolishness. And this she did not do,--not at least\nas our teacher tells the story.\"\n\n\"Why Western people should think that story beautiful,\" said Zaitsu,\n\"is difficult for us to understand. There is much in it which fills\nus with anger. For some of us cannot but think of our parents when\nlistening to such a story. After the Revolution of Meiji, for a time,\nthere was much suffering. Often perhaps our parents were hungry; yet\nwe always had plenty of food. Sometimes they could scarcely get money\nto live; yet we were educated. When we think of all it cost them to\neducate us, all the trouble it gave them to bring us up, all the love\nthey gave us, and all the pain we caused them in our foolish childhood,\nthen we think we can never, never do enough for them. And therefore we\ndo not like that story of Admetus.\"\n\n\nThe bugle sounded for recess. I went to the parade-ground to take\na smoke. Presently a few students joined me, with their rifles and\nbayonets--for the next hour was to be devoted to military drill. One\nsaid: \"Teacher, we should like another subject for composition,--not\n_too_ easy.\"\n\nI suggested: \"How would you like this for a subject, 'What is most\ndifficult to understand?'\"\n\n\"That,\" said Kawabuchi, \"is not hard to answer,--the correct use of\nEnglish prepositions.\"\n\n\"In the study of English by Japanese students,--yes,\" I answered. \"But\nI did not mean any special difficulty of that kind. I meant to write\nyour ideas about what is most difficult for all men to understand.\"\n\n\"The universe?\" queried Yasukochi. \"That is too large a subject.\"\n\n\"When I was only six years old,\" said Orito, \"I used to wander along\nthe seashore, on fine days, and wonder at the greatness of the world.\nOur home was by the sea. Afterwards I was taught that the problem of\nthe universe will at last pass away, like smoke.\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Miyakawa, \"that the hardest of all things to understand\nis why men live in the world. From the time a child is born, what does\nhe do? He eats and drinks; he feels happy and sad; he sleeps at night;\nhe awakes in the morning. He is educated; he grows up; he marries; he\nhas children; he gets old; his hair turns first gray and then white; he\nbecomes feebler and feebler,--and he dies.\n\n\"What does he do all his life? All his real work in this world is to\neat and to drink, to sleep and to rise up; since, whatever be his\noccupation as a citizen, he toils only that he may be able to continue\ndoing this. But for what purpose does a man really come into the world?\nIs it to eat? Is it to drink? Is it to sleep? Every day he does exactly\nthe same thing, and yet he is not tired! It is strange.\n\n\"When rewarded, he is glad; when punished, he is sad. If he becomes\nrich, he thinks himself happy. If he becomes poor, he is very unhappy.\nWhy is he glad or sad according to his condition? Happiness and sadness\nare only temporary things. Why does he study hard? No matter how great\na scholar he may become, what is there left of him when he is dead?\nOnly bones.\"\n\n\nMiyakawa was the merriest and wittiest in his class; and the\ncontrast between his joyous character and his words seemed to me\nalmost startling. But such swift glooms of thought--especially since\nMeiji--not unfrequently make apparition in quite young Oriental minds.\nThey are fugitive as shadows of summer clouds; they mean less than they\nwould signify in Western adolescence; and the Japanese lives not by\nthought, nor by emotion, but by duty. Still, they are not haunters to\nencourage.\n\n\"I think,\" said I, \"a much better subject for you all would be the Sky:\nthe sensations which the sky creates in us when we look at it on such a\nday as this. See how wonderful it is!\"\n\nIt was blue to the edge of the world, with never a floss of cloud.\nThere were no vapors in the horizon; and very far peaks, invisible on\nmost days, now-massed into the glorious light, seemingly diaphanous.\n\nThen Kumashiro, looking up to the mighty arching, uttered with\nreverence the ancient Chinese words:--\n\n\"_What thought is so high as It is? What mind is so wide?_\"\n\n\"To-day,\" I said, \"is beautiful as any summer day could be,--only that\nthe leaves are falling, and the semi are gone.\"\n\n\"Do you like semi, teacher?\" asked Mori.\n\n\"It gives me great pleasure to hear them,\" I answered. \"We have no such\ncicad\u00e6 in the West.\"\n\n\"Human life is compared to the life of a semi,\" said Orito,--\"_utsuzemi\nno yo_. Brief as the song of the semi all human joy is, and youth. Men\ncome for a season and go, as do the semi.\"\n\n\"There are no semi now,\" said Yasukochi; \"perhaps the teacher thinks it\nis sad.\"\n\n\"I do not think it sad,\" observed Noguchi. \"They hinder us from study.\nI hate the sound they make. When we hear that sound in summer, and are\ntired, it adds fatigue to fatigue so that we fall asleep. If we try to\nread or write, or even think, when we hear that sound we have no more\ncourage to do anything. Then we wish that all those insects were dead.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you like the dragon-flies,\" I suggested. \"They are flashing\nall around us; but they make no sound.\"\n\n\"Every Japanese likes dragon-flies,\" said Ivumashiro. \"Japan, you know,\nis called Akitsusu, which means the Country of the Dragon-fly.\"\n\nWe talked about different kinds of dragon-flies; and they told me of\none I had never seen,--the Sh\u014dro-tombo, or \"Ghost dragon-fly,\" said\nto have some strange relation to the dead. Also they spoke of the\nYamma--a very large kind of dragon-fly, and related that in certain\nold songs the samurai were called Yamma, because the long hair of\na young warrior used to be tied up into a knot in the shape of a\ndragon-fly.\n\nA bugle sounded; and the voice of the military officer rang out,--\n\n\"_Atsumar\u00c9!_\" (fall in!) But the young men lingered an instant to ask,--\n\n\"Well, what shall it be, teacher?--that which is most difficult to\nunderstand?\"\n\n\"No,\" I said, \"the Sky.\"\n\nAnd all that day the beauty of the Chinese utterance haunted me, filled\nme like an exaltation:--\n\n\"_What thought is so high as It is? What mind is so wide?_\"\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nThere is one instance in which the relation between teachers and\nstudents is not formal at all,--one precious survival of the mutual\nlove of other days in the old Samurai Schools. By all the aged\nProfessor of Chinese is reverenced; and his influence over the young\nmen is very great. With a word he could calm any outburst burst of\nanger; with a smile he could quicken any generous impulse. For he\nrepresents to the lads their ideal of all that was brave, true, noble,\nin the elder life,--the Soul of Old Japan.\n\nHis name, signifying \"Moon-of-Autumn,\" is famous in his own land. A\nlittle book has been published about him, containing his portrait. He\nwas once a samurai of high rank belonging to the great clan of Aidzu.\nHe rose early to positions of trust and influence. He has been a leader\nof armies, a negotiator between princes, a statesman, a ruler of\nprovinces--all that any knight could be in the feudal era. But in the\nintervals of military or political duty he seems to have always been\na teacher. There are few such teachers. There are few such scholars.\nYet to see him now, you would scarcely believe how much he was once\nfeared--though loved--by the turbulent swordsmen under his rule.\nPerhaps there is no gentleness so full of charm as that of the man of\nwar noted for sternness in his youth.\n\nWhen the Feudal System made its last battle for existence, he heard the\nsummons of his lord, and went into that terrible struggle in which\neven the women and little children of Aidzu took part. But courage and\nthe sword alone could not prevail against the new methods of war;--the\npower of Aidzu was broken; and he, as one of the leaders of that power,\nwas long a political prisoner.\n\nBut the victors esteemed him; and the Government he had fought against\nin all honor took him into its service to teach the new generations.\nFrom younger teachers these learned Western science and Western\nlanguages. But he still taught that wisdom of the Chinese sages which\nis eternal,--and loyalty, and honor, and all that makes the man.\n\nSome of his children passed away from his sight. But he could not feel\nalone; for all whom he taught were as sons to him, and so reverenced\nhim. And he became old, very old, and grew to look like a god,--like a\nKami-Sama.\n\nThe Kami-Sama in art bear no likeness to the Buddhas. These more\nancient divinities have no downcast gaze, no meditative impassiveness.\nThey are lovers of Nature; they haunt her fairest solitudes, and\nenter into the life of her trees, and speak in her waters, and hover\nin her winds. Once upon the earth they lived as men; and the people of\nthe land are their posterity. Even as divine ghosts, they remain very\nhuman, and of many dispositions. They are the emotions, they are the\nsensations of the living. But as figuring in legend and the art born\nof legend, they are mostly very pleasant to know. I speak not of the\ncheap art which treats them irreverently in these skeptical days, but\nof the older art explaining the sacred texts about them. Of course such\nrepresentations vary greatly. But were you to ask what is the ordinary\ntraditional aspect of a Kami, I should answer: \"An ancient smiling man\nof wondrously gentle countenance, having a long white beard, and all\nrobed in white with a white girdle.\"\n\nOnly that the girdle of the aged Professor was of black silk, just such\na vision of Shint\u014d he seemed when he visited me the last time.\n\nHe had met me at the college, and had said: \"I know there has been a\ncongratulation at your house; and that I did not call was not because I\nam old or because your house is far, but only because I have been long\nill. But you will soon see me.\"\n\nSo one luminous afternoon he came, bringing gifts of\nfelicitation,--gifts of the antique high courtesy, simple in\nthemselves, yet worthy a prince: a little plum-tree, every branch and\nspray one snowy dazzle of blossoms; a curious and pretty bamboo vessel\nfull of wine; and two scrolls bearing beautiful poems,--texts precious\nin themselves as the work of a rare calligrapher and poet; otherwise\nprecious to me, because written by his own hand. Everything which\nhe said to me I do not fully know. I remember words of affectionate\nencouragement about my duties,--some wise, keen advice,--a strange\nstory of his youth. But all was like a pleasant dream; for his mere\npresence was a caress, and the fragrance of his flower-gift seemed as a\nbreathing from the Takama-no-hara. And as a Kami should come and go, so\nhe smiled and went,--leaving all things hallowed. The little plum-tree\nhas lost its flowers: another winter must pass before it blooms again.\nBut something very sweet still seems to haunt the vacant guest-room.\nPerhaps only the memory of that divine old man;--perhaps a spirit\nancestral, some Lady of the Past, who followed his steps all viewlessly\nto our threshold that day, and lingers with me awhile, just because he\nloved me.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nAT HAKATA\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nTraveling by kuruma one can only see and dream. The jolting makes\nreading too painful; the rattle of the wheels and the rush of the\nwind render conversation impossible,--even when the road allows of a\nfellow-traveler's vehicle running beside your own. After having become\nfamiliar with the characteristics of Japanese scenery, you are not apt\nto notice during such travel, except at long intervals, anything novel\nenough to make a strong impression. Most often the way winds through\na perpetual sameness of rice-fields, vegetable farms, tiny thatched\nhamlets,--and between interminable ranges of green or blue hills.\nSometimes, indeed, there are startling spreads of color, as when you\ntraverse a plain all burning yellow with the blossoming of the natan\u00e9,\nor a valley all lilac with the flowering of the gengebana; but these\nare the passing splendors of very short seasons. As a rule, the vast\ngreen monotony appeals to no faculty: you sink into reverie or nod,\nperhaps, with the wind in your face, to be wakened only by some jolt of\nextra violence.\n\nEven so, on my autumn way to Hakata, I gaze and dream and nod by\nturns. I watch the flashing of the dragon-flies, the infinite network\nof rice-field paths spreading out of sight on either hand, the slowly\nshifting lines of familiar peaks in the horizon glow, and the changing\nshapes of white afloat in the vivid blue above all,--asking myself how\nmany times again must I view the same Ky\u016bsh\u016b landscape, and deploring\nthe absence of the wonderful.\n\nSuddenly and very softly, the thought steals into my mind that the most\nwonderful of possible visions is really all about me in the mere common\ngreen of the world,--in the ceaseless manifestation of Life.\n\nEver and everywhere, from beginnings invisible, green things are\ngrowing,--out of soft earth, out of hard rock,--forms multitudinous,\ndumb soundless races incalculably older than man. Of their visible\nhistory we know much: names we have given them, and classification. The\nreason of the forms of their leaves, of the qualities of their fruits,\nof the colors of their flowers, we also know; for we have learned not\na little about the course of the eternal laws that give shape to all\nterrestrial things. But why they are,--that we do not know. What is the\nghostliness that seeks expression in this universal green,--the mystery\nof that which multiplies forever issuing out of that which multiplies\nnot? Or is the seeming lifeless itself life,--only a life more silent\nstill, more hidden?\n\nBut a stranger and quicker life moves upon the face of the world,\npeoples wind and flood. This has the ghostlier power of separating\nitself from earth, yet is always at last recalled thereto, and\ncondemned to feed that which it once fed upon. It feels; it knows;\nit crawls, swims, runs, flies, thinks. Countless the shapes of it.\nThe green slower life seeks being only. But this forever struggles\nagainst non-being. We know the mechanism of its motion, the laws of\nits growth: the innermost mazes of its structure have been explored?\nthe territories of its sensation have been mapped and named. But the\nmeaning of it, who will tell us? Out of what ultimate came it? Or, more\nsimply, what is it? Why should it know pain? Why is it evolved by pain?\n\nAnd this life of pain is our own. Relatively, it sees, it\nknows. Absolutely, it is blind, and gropes, like the slow cold\ngreen life which supports it. But does it also support a higher\nexistence,--nourish some invisible life infinitely more active and more\ncomplex? Is there ghostliness orbed in ghostliness,--life within life\nwithout end? Are there universes interpenetrating universes?\n\n\nFor our era, at least, the boundaries of human knowledge have been\nirrevocably fixed; and far beyond those limits only exist the solutions\nof such questions. Yet what constitutes those limits of the possible?\nNothing more than human nature itself. Must that nature remain equally\nlimited in those who shall come after us? Will they never develop\nhigher senses, vaster faculties, subtler perceptions? What is the\nteaching of science?\n\nPerhaps it has been suggested in the profound saying of Clifford,\nthat we were never made, but have made ourselves. This is, indeed,\nthe deepest of all teachings of science. And wherefore has man made\nhimself? To escape suffering and death. Under the pressure of pain\nalone was our being shaped; and even so long as pain lives, so long\nmust continue the ceaseless toil of self-change. Once in the ancient\npast, the necessities of life were physical; they are not less moral\nthan physical now. And of all future necessities, none seems likely to\nprove so merciless, so mighty, so tremendous, as that of trying to read\nthe Universal Riddle.\n\nThe world's greatest thinker--he who has told us why the Riddle cannot\nbe read--has told us also how the longing to solve it must endure, and\ngrow with the growing of man.[1]\n\nAnd surely the mere recognition of this necessity contains within it\nthe germ of a hope. May not the desire to know, as the possibly highest\nform of future pain, compel within men the natural evolution of powers\nto achieve the now impossible,--of capacities to perceive the now\ninvisible? We of to-day are that which we are through longing so to\nbe; and may not the inheritors of our work yet make themselves that\nwhich we now would wish to become?\n\n\n[1] _First Principles_ (The Reconciliation).\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nI am in Hakata, the town of the Girdle-Weavers,--which is a very tall\ntown, with fantastic narrow ways full of amazing color;--and I halt\nin the Street-of-Prayer-to-the-Gods because there is an enormous head\nof bronze, the head of a Buddha, smiling at me through a gateway. The\ngateway is of a temple of the J\u014dd\u014d sect; and the head is beautiful.\n\nBut there is only the head. What supports it above the pavement of the\ncourt is hidden by thousands of metal mirrors heaped up to the chin\nof the great dreamy face. A placard beside the gateway explains the\nproblem. The mirrors are contributions by women to a colossal seated\nfigure of Buddha--to be thirty-five feet high, including the huge lotus\non which it is to be enthroned. And the whole is to be made of bronze\nmirrors. Hundreds have been already used to cast the head; myriads will\nbe needed to finish the work. Who can venture to assert, in presence\nof such an exhibition, that Buddhism is passing away?\n\n\nYet I cannot feel delighted at this display, which, although gratifying\nthe artistic sense with the promise of a noble statue, shocks it still\nmore by ocular evidence of the immense destruction that the project\ninvolves. For Japanese metal mirrors (now being superseded by atrocious\ncheap looking-glasses of Western manufacture) well deserve to be called\nthings of beauty. Nobody unfamiliar with their gracious shapes can feel\nthe charm of the Oriental comparison of the moon to a mirror. One side\nonly is polished. The other is adorned with designs in relief: trees or\nflowers, birds or animals or insects, landscapes, legends, symbols of\ngood fortune, figures of gods. Such are even the commonest mirrors. But\nthere are many kinds; and some among them very wonderful, which we call\n\"magic mirrors,\"--because when the reflection of one is thrown upon a\nscreen or wall, you can see, in the disk of light, _luminous images of\nthe designs upon the back._[1]\n\nWhether there be any magic mirrors in that heap of bronze ex-votos I\ncannot tell; but there certainly are many beautiful things. And there\nis no little pathos in the spectacle of all that wonderful quaint\nwork thus cast away, and destined soon to vanish utterly. Probably\nwithin another decade the making of mirrors of silver and mirrors of\nbronze will have ceased forever. Seekers for them will then hear, with\nsomething more than regret, the story of the fate of these.\n\nNor is this the only pathos in the vision of all those domestic\nsacrifices thus exposed to rain and sun and trodden dust of streets.\nSurely the smiles of bride and babe and mother have been reflected in\nnot a few: some gentle home life must have been imaged in nearly all.\nBut a ghostlier value than memory can give also attaches to Japanese\nmirrors. An ancient proverb declares, \"The Mirror is the Sold of the\nWoman,\"--and not merely, as might be supposed, in a figurative sense.\nFor countless legends relate that a mirror feels all the joys or\npains of its mistress, and reveals in its dimness or brightness some\nweird sympathy with her every emotion. Wherefore mirrors were of old\nemployed--and some say are still employed--in those magical rites\nbelieved to influence life and death, and were buried with those to\nwhom they belonged.\n\nAnd the spectacle of all those mouldering bronzes thus makes queer\nfancies in the mind about wrecks of Souls,--or at least of soul-things.\nIt is even difficult to assure one's self that, of all the movements\nand the faces those mirrors once reflected, absolutely nothing now\nhaunts them. One cannot help imagining that whatever has been must\ncontinue to be somewhere;--that by approaching the mirrors very\nstealthily, and turning a few of them suddenly face up to the light,\none might be able to catch the Past in the very act of shrinking and\nshuddering away.\n\nBesides, I must observe that the pathos of this exhibition has\nbeen specially intensified for me by one memory which the sight of\na Japanese mirror always evokes,--the memory of the old Japanese\nstory _Matsuyama no Kagami_. Though related in the simplest manner\nand with the fewest possible words,[2] it might well be compared to\nthose wonderful little tales by Goethe, of which the meanings expand\naccording to the experience and capacity of the reader. Mrs. James has\nperhaps exhausted the psychological possibilities of the story in one\ndirection; and whoever can read her little book without emotion should\nbe driven from the society of mankind. Even to guess the Japanese idea\nof the tale, one should be able to _feel_ the intimate sense of the\ndelicious colored prints accompanying her text,--the interpretation\nof the last great artist of the Kano school. (Foreigners, unfamiliar\nwith Japanese home life, cannot fully perceive the exquisiteness of the\ndrawings made for the Fairy-Tale Series; but the silk-dyers of Ky\u014dto\nand of \u014csaka prize them beyond measure, and reproduce them constantly\nupon the costliest textures.) But there are many versions; and, with\nthe following outline, readers can readily make nineteenth-century\nversions for themselves.\n\n\n[1] See article entitled \"On the Magic Mirrors of Japan, by Professors\nAyrton and Perry,\" in vol. xxvii. of the _Proceedings of the Royal\nSociety_; also an article treating the same subject by the same authors\nin vol. xxii. of _The Philosophical Magazine_.\n\n[2] See, for Japanese text and translation, _A Romanized Japanese\nReader_, by Professor B. H. Chamberlain. The beautiful version for\nchildren, written by Mrs. F. H. James, belongs to the celebrated\nJapanese Fairy-Tale Series, published at T\u014dky\u014d.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nLong ago, at a place called Matsuyama, in the province of Echigo, there\nlived a young samurai husband and wife whose names have been quite\nforgotten. They had a little daughter.\n\nOnce the husband went to Yedo,--probably as a retainer in the train\nof the Lord of Echigo. On his return he brought presents from the\ncapital,--sweet cakes and a doll for the little girl (at least so the\nartist tells us), and for his wife a mirror of silvered bronze. To the\nyoung mother that mirror seemed a very wonderful thing; for it was the\nfirst mirror ever brought to Matsuyama. She did not understand the\nuse of it, and innocently asked whose was the pretty smiling face she\nsaw inside it. When her husband answered her, laughing, \"Why, it is\nyour own face! How foolish you are!\" she was ashamed to ask any more\nquestions, but hastened to put her present away, still thinking it to\nbe a very mysterious thing. And she kept it hidden many years,--the\noriginal story does not say why. Perhaps for the simple reason that in\nall countries love makes even the most trifling gift too sacred to be\nshown.\n\nBut in the time of her last sickness she gave the mirror to her\ndaughter, saying, \"After I am dead you must look into this mirror every\nmorning and evening, and you will see me. Do not grieve.\" Then she died.\n\nAnd the girl thereafter looked into the mirror every morning and\nevening, and did not know that the face in the mirror was her own\nshadow,--but thought it to be that of her dead mother, whom she much\nresembled. So she would talk to the shadow, having the sensation, or,\nas the Japanese original more tenderly says, \"_having the heart of\nmeeting her mother_\" day by day; and she prized the mirror above all\nthings.\n\nAt last her father noticed this conduct, and thought it strange, and\nasked her the reason of it, whereupon she told him all. \"Then,\" says\nthe old Japanese narrator, \"he thinking it to be a very piteous thing,\nhis eyes grew dark with tears.\"\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nSuch is the old story.... But was the artless error indeed so piteous\na thing as it seemed to the parent? Or was his emotion vain as my\nown regret for the destiny of all those mirrors with all their\nrecollections?\n\nI cannot help fancying that the innocence of the maiden was nearer to\neternal truth than the feeling of the father. For in the cosmic order\nof things the present is the shadow of the past, and the future must be\nthe reflection of the present. One are we all, even as Light is, though\nunspeakable the millions of the vibrations whereby it is made. One are\nwe all,--and yet many, because each is a world of ghosts. Surely that\ngirl saw and spoke to her mother's very soul, while seeing the fair\nshadow of her own young eyes and lips, uttering love!\n\nAnd, with this thought, the strange display in the old temple\ncourt takes a new meaning,--becomes the symbolism of a sublime\nexpectation. Each of us is truly a mirror, imaging something of\nthe universe,--reflecting also the reflection of ourselves in that\nuniverse; and perhaps the destiny of all is to be molten by that\nmighty Image-maker, Death, into some great sweet passionless unity. How\nthe vast work shall be wrought, only those to come after us may know.\nWe of the present West do not know: we merely dream. But the ancient\nEast believes. Here is the simple imagery of her faith. All forms\nmust vanish at last to blend with that Being whose smile is immutable\nRest,--whose knowledge is Infinite Vision.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nOF THE ETERNAL FEMININE\n\n    For metaphors of man we search the skies,\n    And find our allegory in all the air;--\n    We gaze on Nature with Narcissus-eyes,\n    Enamoured of ourshadow everywhere.\n                                    WATSON.\n\n\nI\n\n\nWhat every intelligent foreigner dwelling in Japan must sooner or later\nperceive is, that the more the Japanese learn of our \u00e6sthetics and of\nour emotional character generally, the less favorably do they seem to\nbe impressed thereby. The European or American who tries to talk to\nthem about Western art, or literature, or metaphysics will feel for\ntheir sympathy in vain. He will be listened to politely; but his utmost\neloquence will scarcely elicit more than a few surprising comments,\ntotally unlike what he hoped and expected to evoke. Many successive\ndisappointments of this sort impel him to judge his Oriental auditors\nvery much as he would judge Western auditors behaving in a similar\nway. Obvious indifference to what we imagine the highest expression\npossible of art and thought, we are led by our own Occidental\nexperiences to take for proof of mental incapacity. So we find one\nclass of foreign observers calling the Japanese a race of children;\nwhile another, including a majority of those who have passed many years\nin the country, judge the nation essentially materialistic, despite the\nevidence of its religions, its literature, and its matchless art. I\ncannot persuade myself that either of these judgments is less fatuous\nthan Goldsmith's observation to Johnson about the Literary Club: \"There\ncan now be nothing new among us; we have traveled over one another's\nminds.\" A cultured Japanese might well answer with Johnson's famous\nretort: \"Sir, you have not yet traveled over my mind, I promise you!\"\nAnd all such sweeping criticisms seem to me due to a very imperfect\nrecognition of the fact that Japanese thought and sentiment have been\nevolved out of ancestral habits, customs, ethics, beliefs, directly\nthe opposite of our own in some cases, and in all cases strangely\ndifferent. Acting on such psychological material, modern scientific\neducation cannot but accentuate and develop race differences. Only\nhalf-education can tempt the Japanese to servile imitation of Western\nways. The real mental and moral power of the race, its highest\nintellect, strongly resists Western influence; and those more competent\nthan I to pronounce upon such matters assure me that this is especially\nobservable in the case of superior men who have traveled or been\neducated in Europe. Indeed, the results of the new culture have served\nmore than aught else to show the immense force of healthy conservatism\nin that race superficially characterized by Rein as a race of children.\nEven very imperfectly understood, the causes of this Japanese attitude\nto a certain class of Western ideas might well incite us to reconsider\nour own estimate of those ideas, rather than to tax the Oriental\nmind with incapacity. Now, of the causes in question, which are\nmultitudinous, some can only be vaguely guessed at. But there is at\nleast one--a very important one--which we may safely study, because a\nrecognition of it is forced upon any one who passes a few years in the\nFar East.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\n\"Teacher, please tell us why there is so much about love and marrying\nin English novels;--it seems to us very, very strange.\"\n\nThis question was put to me while I was trying to explain to my\nliterature class--young men from nineteen to twenty-three years of\nage--why they had failed to understand certain chapters of a standard\nnovel, though quite well able to understand the logic of Jevons and\nthe psychology of James. Under the circumstances, it was not an easy\nquestion to answer; in fact, I could not have replied to it in any\nsatisfactory way had I not already lived for several years in Japan.\nAs it was, though I endeavored to be concise as well as lucid, my\nexplanation occupied something more than two hours.\n\nThere are few of our society novels that a Japanese student can\nreally comprehend; and the reason is, simply, that English society is\nsomething of which he is quite unable to form a correct idea. Indeed,\nnot only English society, in a special sense, but even Western life,\nin a general sense, is a mystery to him. Any social system of which\nfilial piety is not the moral cement; any social system in which\nchildren leave their parents in order to establish families of their\nown; any social system in which it is considered not only natural but\nright to love wife and child more than the authors of one's being;\nany social system in which marriage can be decided independently of\nthe will of parents, by the mutual inclination of the young people\nthemselves; any social system in which the mother-in-law is not\nentitled to the obedient service of the daughter-in-law, appears to him\nof necessity a state of life scarcely better than that of the birds of\nthe air and the beasts of the field, or at best a sort of moral chaos.\nAnd all this existence, as reflected in our popular fiction, presents\nhim with provoking enigmas. Our ideas about love and our solicitude\nabout marriage furnish some of these enigmas. To the young Japanese,\nmarriage appears a simple, natural duty, for the due performance of\nwhich his parents will make all necessary arrangements at the proper\ntime. That foreigners should have so much trouble about getting married\nis puzzling enough to him; but that distinguished authors should write\nnovels and poems about such matters, and that those novels and poems\nshould be vastly admired, puzzles him infinitely more,--seems to him\n\"very, very strange.\"\n\nMy young questioner said \"strange\" for politeness' sake. His real\nthought would have been more accurately rendered by the word\n\"indecent.\" But when I say that to the Japanese mind our typical novel\nappears indecent, highly indecent, the idea thereby suggested to my\nEnglish readers will probably be misleading. The Japanese are not\nmorbidly prudish. Our society novels do not strike them as indecent\nbecause the theme is love. The Japanese have a great deal of literature\nabout love. No; our novels seem to them indecent for somewhat the same\nreason that the Scripture text, \"For this cause shall a man leave his\nfather and mother, and shall cleave unto his wife,\" appears to them\none of the most immoral sentences ever written. In other words, their\ncriticism requires a sociological explanation. To explain fully why our\nnovels are, to their thinking, indecent, I should have to describe the\nwhole structure, customs, and ethics of the Japanese family, totally\ndifferent from anything in Western life; and to do this even in a\nsuperficial way would require a volume. I cannot attempt a complete\nexplanation; I can only cite some facts of a suggestive character.\n\nTo begin with, then, I may broadly state that a great deal of our\nliterature, besides its fiction, is revolting to the Japanese moral\nsense, not because it treats of the passion of love per se, but\nbecause it treats of that passion in relation to virtuous maidens, and\ntherefore in relation to the family circle. Now, as a general rule,\nwhere passionate love is the theme in Japanese literature of the best\nclass, it is not that sort of love which leads to the establishment\nof family relations. It is quite another sort of love,--a sort of\nlove about which the Oriental is not prudish at all,--the _mayoi_, or\ninfatuation of passion, inspired by merely physical attraction; and its\nheroines are not the daughters of refined families, but mostly het\u00e6r\u00e6,\nor professional dancing-girls. Neither does this Oriental variety\nof literature deal with its subject after the fashion of sensuous\nliterature in the West,--French literature, for example: it considers\nit from a different artistic standpoint, and describes rather a\ndifferent order of emotional sensations.\n\nA national literature is of necessity reflective: and we may\npresume that what it fails to portray can have little or no outward\nmanifestation in the national life. Now, the reserve of Japanese\nliterature regarding that love which is the great theme of our greatest\nnovelists and poets is exactly paralleled by the reserve of Japanese\nsociety in regard to the same topic. The typical woman often figures\nin Japanese romance as a heroine; as a perfect mother; as a pious\ndaughter, willing to sacrifice all for duty; as a loyal wife, who\nfollows her husband into battle, fights by his side, saves his life at\nthe cost of her own; never as a sentimental maiden, dying, or making\nothers die, for love. Neither do we find her on literary exhibition as\na dangerous beauty, a charmer of men; and in the real life of Japan\nshe has never appeared in any such r\u00f4le. Society, as a mingling of the\nsexes, as an existence of which the supremely refined charm is the\ncharm of woman, has never existed in the East. Even in Japan, society,\nin the special sense of the word, remains masculine. Nor is it easy\nto believe that the adoption of European fashions and customs within\nsome restricted circles of the capital indicates the beginning of such\na social change as might eventually remodel the national life according\nto Western ideas of society. For such a remodeling would involve the\ndissolution of the family, the disintegration of the whole social\nfabric, the destruction of the whole ethical system,--the breaking up,\nin short, of the national life.\n\nTaking the word \"woman\" in its most refined meaning, and postulating\na society in which woman seldom appears, a society in which she is\nnever placed \"on display,\" a society in which wooing is utterly out of\nthe question, and the faintest compliment to wife or daughter is an\noutrageous impertinence, the reader can at once reach some startling\nconclusions as to the impression made by our popular fiction upon\nmembers of that society. But, although partly correct, his conclusions\nmust fall short of the truth in certain directions, unless he also\npossess some knowledge of the restraints of that society and of the\nethical notions behind the restraints. For example, a refined Japanese\nnever speaks to you about his wife (I am stating the general rule),\nand very seldom indeed about his children, however proud of them he\nmay be. Rarely will he be heard to speak about any of the members of\nhis family, about his domestic life, about any of his private affairs.\nBut if he should happen to talk about members of his family, the\npersons mentioned will almost certainly be his parents. Of them he will\nspeak with a reverence approaching religious feeling, yet in a manner\nquite different from that which would be natural to an Occidental,\nand never so as to imply any mental comparison between the merits of\nhis own parents and those of other men's parents. But he will not\ntalk about his wife even to the friends who were invited as guests to\nhis wedding. And I think I may safely say that the poorest and most\nignorant Japanese, however dire his need, would never dream of trying\nto obtain aid or to invoke pity by the mention of his wife--perhaps\nnot even of his wife and children. But he would not hesitate to ask\nhelp for the sake of his parents or his grandparents. Love of wife and\nchild, the strongest of all sentiments with the Occidental, is judged\nby the Oriental to be a selfish affection. He professes to be ruled\nby a higher sentiment,--duty: duty, first, to his Emperor; next, to\nhis parents. And since love can he classed only as an ego-altruistic\nfeeling, the Japanese thinker is not wrong in his refusal to consider\nit the loftiest of motives, however refined or spiritualized it may he.\n\nIn the existence of the poorer classes of Japan there are no secrets;\nbut among the upper classes family life is much less open to\nobservation than in any country of the West, not excepting Spain. It\nis a life of which foreigners see little, and know almost nothing, all\nthe essays which have been written about Japanese women to the contrary\nnotwithstanding.[1] Invited to the home of a Japanese friend, you may\nor may not see the family. It will depend upon circumstances.\n\nIf you see any of them, it will probably be for a moment only, and\nin that event you will most likely see the wife. At the entrance\nyou give your card to the servant, who retires to present it, and\npresently returns to usher you into the zashiki, or guest-room, always\nthe largest and finest apartment in a Japanese dwelling, where your\nkneeling-cushion is ready for you, with a smoking-box before it. The\nservant brings you tea and cakes. In a little time the host himself\nenters, and after the indispensable salutations conversation begins.\nShould you be pressed to stay for dinner, and accept the invitation,\nit is probable that the wife will do you the honor, as her husband's\nfriend, to wait upon you during an instant. You may or may not be\nformally introduced to her; but a glance at her dress and coiffure\nshould be sufficient to inform you at once who she is, and you must\ngreet her with the most profound respect. She will probably impress you\n(especially if your visit be to a samurai home) as a delicately refined\nand very serious person, by no means a woman of the much-smiling and\nmuch-bowing kind. She will say extremely little, but will salute you,\nand will serve you for a moment with a natural grace of which the mere\nspectacle is a revelation, and glide away again, to remain invisible\nuntil the instant of your departure, when she will reappear at the\nentrance to wish you good-by. During other successive visits you may\nhave similar charming glimpses of her; perhaps, also, some rarer\nglimpses of the aged father and mother; and if a much favored visitor,\nthe children may at last come to greet you, with wonderful politeness\nand sweetness. But the innermost intimate life of that family will\nnever be revealed to you. All that you see to suggest it will be\nrefined, courteous, exquisite, but of the relation of those souls to\neach other you will know nothing. Behind the beautiful screens which\nmask the further interior, all is silent, gentle mystery. There is no\nreason, to the Japanese mind, why it should be otherwise. Such family\nlife is sacred; the home is a sanctuary, of which it were impious to\ndraw aside the veil. Nor can I think this idea of the sacredness of\nhome and of the family relation in any wise inferior to our highest\nconception of the home and the family in the West.\n\nShould there be grown-up daughters in the family, however, the visitor\nis less likely to see the wife. More timid, but equally silent and\nreserved, the young girls will make the guest welcome. In obedience to\norders, they may even gratify him by a performance upon some musical\ninstrument, by exhibiting some of their own needlework or painting, or\nby showing to him some precious or curious objects among the family\nheirlooms. But all submissive sweetness and courtesy are inseparable\nfrom the high-bred reserve belonging to the finest native culture. And\nthe guest must not allow himself to be less reserved. Unless possessing\nthe privilege of great age, which would entitle him to paternal freedom\nof speech, he must never venture upon personal compliment, or indulge\nin anything resembling light flattery. What would be deemed gallantry\nin the West may be gross rudeness in the East. On no account can\nthe visitor compliment a young girl about her looks, her grace, her\ntoilette, much less dare address such a compliment to the wife. But,\nthe reader may object, there are certainly occasions upon which a\ncompliment of some character cannot be avoided. This is true, and on\nsuch an occasion politeness requires, as a preliminary, the humblest\napology for making the compliment, which will then be accepted with a\nphrase more graceful than our \"Pray do not mention it;\"--that is, the\nrudeness of making a compliment at all.\n\nBut here we touch the vast subject of Japanese etiquette, about which\nI must confess myself still profoundly ignorant. I have ventured thus\nmuch only in order to suggest how lacking: in refinement much of our\nWestern society fiction must appear to the Oriental mind.\n\nTo speak of one's affection for wife or children, to bring into\nconversation anything closely related to domestic life, is totally\nincompatible with Japanese ideas of good breeding. Our open\nacknowledgment, or rather exhibition, of the domestic relation\nconsequently appears to cultivated Japanese, if not absolutely\nbarbarous, at least uxorious. And this sentiment may be found to\nexplain not a little in Japanese life which has given foreigners a\ntotally incorrect idea about the position of Japanese women. It is not\nthe custom in Japan for the husband even to walk side by side with\nhis wife in the street, much less to give her his arm, or to assist\nher in ascending or descending a flight of stairs. But this is not\nany proof upon his part of want of affection. It is only the result\nof a social sentiment totally different from our own; it is simply\nobedience to an etiquette founded upon the idea that public displays of\nthe marital relation are improper. Why improper? Because they seem to\nOriental judgment to indicate a confession of personal, and therefore\nselfish sentiment For the Oriental the law of life is duty. Affection\nmust, in every time and place, be subordinated to duty. Any public\nexhibition of personal affection of a certain class is equivalent to\na public confession of moral weakness. Does this mean that to love\none's wife is amoral weakness? No; it is the duty of a man to love his\nwife; but it is moral weakness to love her more than his parents, or\nto show her, in public, more attention than he shows to his parents.\nNay, it would be a proof of moral weakness to show her even the _same_\ndegree of attention. During the lifetime of the parents her position\nin the household is simply that of an adopted daughter, and the most\naffectionate of husbands must not even for a moment allow himself to\nforget the etiquette of the family.\n\nHere I must touch upon one feature of Western literature never to be\nreconciled with Japanese ideas and customs. Let the reader reflect\nfor a moment how large a place the subject of kisses and caresses and\nembraces occupies in our poetry and in our prose fiction; and then\nlet him consider the fact that in Japanese literature these have no\nexistence whatever. For kisses and embraces are simply unknown in Japan\nas tokens of affection, if we except the solitary fact that Japanese\nmothers, like mothers all over the world, lip and hug their little\nones betimes. After babyhood there is no more hugging or kissing. Such\nactions, except in the case of infants, are held to be highly immodest.\nNever do girls kiss one another; never do parents kiss or embrace\ntheir children who have become able to walk. And this rule holds good\nof all classes of society, from the highest nobility to the humblest\npeasantry. Neither have we the least indication throughout Japanese\nliterature of any time in the history of the race when affection\nwas more demonstrative than it is to-day. Perhaps the Western reader\nwill find it hard even to imagine a literature in the whole course of\nwhich no mention is made of kissing, of embracing, even of pressing\na loved hand; for hand-clasping is an action as totally foreign to\nJapanese impulse as kissing. Yet on these topics even the na\u00efve songs\nof the country folk, even the old ballads of the people about unhappy\nlovers, are quite as silent as the exquisite verses of the court\npoets. Suppose we take for an example the ancient popular ballad of\nShuntokumaru, which has given origin to various proverbs and household\nwords familiar throughout western Japan. Here we have the story of two\nbetrothed lovers, long separated by a cruel misfortune, wandering in\nsearch of each other all over the Empire, and at last suddenly meeting\nbefore Kiomidzu Temple by the favor of the gods. Would not any Aryan\npoet describe such a meeting as a rushing of the two into each other's\narms, with kisses and cries of love? But how does the old Japanese\nballad describe it? In brief, the twain only sit down together _and\nstroke each other a little._ Now, even this reserved form of caress is\nan extremely rare indulgence of emotion. You may see again and again\nfathers and sons, husbands and wives, mothers and daughters, meeting\nafter years of absence, yet you will probably never see the least\napproach to a caress between them. They will kneel down and salute\neach other, and smile, and perhaps cry a little for joy; but they will\nneither rush into each other's arms, nor utter extraordinary phrases of\naffection. Indeed, such terms of affection as \"my dear,\" \"my darling,\"\n\"my sweet,\" \"my love,\" \"my life,\" do not exist in Japanese, nor any\nterms at all equivalent to our emotional idioms. Japanese affection is\nnot uttered in words; it scarcely appears even in the tone of voice: it\nis chiefly shown in acts of exquisite courtesy and kindness. I might\nadd that the opposite emotion is under equally perfect control; but to\nillustrate this remarkable fact would require a separate essay.\n\n\n[1] I do not, however, refer to those extraordinary persons who make\ntheir short residence in teahouses and establishments of a much worse\nkind, and then go home to write books about the women of Japan.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nHe who would study impartially the life and thought of the Orient\nmust also study those of the Occident from the Oriental point of\nview. And the results of such a comparative study he will find to\nbe in no small degree retroactive. According to his character and\nhis faculty of perception, he will be more or less affected by those\nOriental influences to which he submits himself. The conditions of\nWestern life will gradually begin to assume for him new, undreamed-of\nmeanings, and to lose not a few of their old familiar aspects. Much\nthat he once deemed right and true he may begin to find abnormal and\nfalse. He may begin to doubt whether the moral ideals of the West are\nreally the highest. He may feel more than inclined to dispute the\nestimate placed by Western custom upon Western civilization. Whether\nhis doubts be final is another matter: they will be at least rational\nenough and powerful enough to modify permanently some of his prior\nconvictions,--among others his conviction of the moral value of the\nWestern worship of Woman as the Unattainable, the Incomprehensible,\nthe Divine, the ideal of \"_la femme que tu ne conna\u00eetras pas,_\"[1]--the\nideal of the Eternal Feminine. For in this ancient East the Eternal\nFeminine does not exist at all. And after having become quite\naccustomed to live without it, one may naturally conclude that it is\nnot absolutely essential to intellectual health, and may even dare to\nquestion the necessity for its perpetual existence upon the other side\nof the world.\n\n\n[1] A phrase from Baudelaire.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nTo say that the Eternal Feminine does not exist in the Far East is to\nstate but a part of the truth. That it could be introduced thereinto,\nin the remotest future, is not possible to imagine. Few, if any, of\nour ideas regarding it can even be rendered into the language of the\ncountry: a language in which nouns have no gender, adjectives no\ndegrees of comparison, and verbs no persons; a language in which,\nsays Professor Chamberlain, the absence of personification is \"a\ncharacteristic so deep-seated and so all-pervading as to interfere even\nwith the use of neuter nouns in combination with transitive verbs.\"[1]\n\"In fact,\" he adds, \"most metaphors and allegories are incapable of so\nmuch as explanation to Far-Eastern minds;\" and he makes a striking\ncitation from Wordsworth in illustration of his statement. Yet even\npoets much more lucid than Wordsworth are to the Japanese equally\nobscure. I remember the difficulty I once had in explaining to an\nadvanced class this simple line from a well-known ballad of Tennyson,--\n\n    \"She is more beautiful than day.\"\n\nMy students could understand the use of the adjective \"beautiful\"\nto qualify \"day,\" and the use of the same adjective, separately, to\nqualify the word \"maid.\" But that there could exist in any mortal mind\nthe least idea of analogy between the beauty of day and the beauty\nof a young woman was quite beyond their understanding. In order to\nconvey to them the poet's thought, it was necessary to analyze it\npsychologically,--to prove a possible nervous analogy between two modes\nof pleasurable feeling excited by two different impressions.\n\nThus, the very nature of the language tells us how ancient and how\ndeeply rooted in racial character are those tendencies by which we must\nendeavor to account--if there be any need of accounting at all--for\nthe absence in this Far East of a dominant ideal corresponding to\nour own. They are causes incomparably older than the existing social\nstructure, older than the idea of the family, older than ancestor\nworship, enormously older than that Confucian code which is the\nreflection rather than the explanation of many singular facts in\nOriental life. But since beliefs and practices react upon character,\nand character again must react upon practices and beliefs, it has\nnot been altogether irrational to seek in Confucianism for causes as\nwell as for explanations. Far more irrational have been the charges\nof hasty critics against Shint\u014d and against Buddhism as religious\ninfluences opposed to the natural rights of woman. The ancient faith\nof Shint\u014d has been at least as gentle to woman as the ancient faith\nof the Hebrews. Its female divinities are not less numerous than its\nmasculine divinities, nor are they presented to the imagination of\nworshipers in a form much less attractive than the dreams of Greek\nmythology. Of some, like So-tohori-no-Iratsum\u00e9, it is said that the\nlight of their beautiful bodies passes through their garments; and the\nsource of all life and light, the eternal Sun, is a goddess, fair\nAmaterasu-oho-mi-kami. Virgins serve the ancient gods, and figure in\nall the pageants of the faith; and in a thousand shrines throughout\nthe land the memory of woman as wife and mother is worshiped equally\nwith the memory of man as hero and father. Neither can the later and\nalien faith of Buddhism be justly accused of relegating woman to a\nlower place in the spiritual world than monkish Christianity accorded\nher in the West. The Buddha, like the Christ, was horn of a virgin;\nthe most lovable divinities of Buddhism, Jizo excepted, are feminine,\nboth in Japanese art and in Japanese popular fancy; and in the Buddhist\nas in the Roman Catholic hagiography, the lives of holy women hold\nhonored place. It is true that Buddhism, like early Christianity, used\nits utmost eloquence in preaching against the temptation of female\nloveliness; and it is true that in the teaching of its founder, as\nin the teaching of Paul, social and spiritual supremacy is accorded\nto the man. Yet, in our search for texts on this topic, we must not\noverlook the host of instances of favor shown by the Buddha to women of\nall classes, nor that remarkable legend of a later text, in which a\ndogma denying to woman the highest spiritual opportunities is sublimely\nrebuked.\n\nIn the eleventh chapter of the Sutra of the Lotus of the Good Law, it\nis written that mention was made before the Lord Buddha of a young girl\nwho had in one instant arrived at supreme knowledge; who had in one\nmoment acquired the merits of a thousand meditations, and the proofs of\nthe essence of all laws. And the girl came and stood in the presence of\nthe Lord.\n\nBut the Bodhissattva Pragnakuta doubted, saying, \"I have seen the Lord\nSakyamuni in the time when he was striving for supreme enlightenment,\nand I know that he performed good works innumerable through countless\n\u00e6ons. In all the world there is not one spot so large as a grain of\nmustard-seed where he has not surrendered his body for the sake of\nliving creatures. Only after all this did he arrive at enlightenment.\nWho then may believe this girl could in one moment have arrived at\nsupreme knowledge?\"\n\nAnd the venerable priest Sariputra likewise doubted, saying, \"It may\nindeed happen, O Sister, that a woman fulfill the six perfect virtues;\nbut as yet there is no example of her having attained to Buddhaship,\nbecause a woman cannot attain to the rank of a Bodhissattva.\"\n\nBut the maiden called upon the Lord Buddha to be her witness. And\ninstantly in the sight of the assembly her sex disappeared; and she\nmanifested herself as a Bodhissattva, filling all directions of space\nwith the radiance of the thirty-two signs. And the world shook in six\ndifferent ways. And the priest Sariputra was silent.[2]\n\n\n\n[1] _See Things Japanese_, second edition, pp. 255, 256; article\n\"Language.\"\n\n[2] See the whole wonderful passage in Kern's translation of this\nmagnificent Sutra, _Sacred Books of the East_, vol. xxi. chap. xi.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nBut to feel the real nature of what is surely one of the greatest\nobstacles to intellectual sympathy between the West and the Far East,\nwe must fully appreciate the immense effect upon Occidental life of\nthis ideal which has no existence in the Orient. We must remember what\nthat ideal has been to Western civilization,--to all its pleasures\nand refinements and luxuries; to its sculpture, painting, decoration,\narchitecture, literature, drama, music; to the development of countless\nindustries. We must think of its effect upon manners, customs, and\nthe language of taste, upon conduct and ethics, upon endeavor, upon\nphilosophy and religion, upon almost every phase of public and private\nlife,--in short, upon national character. Nor should we forget that\nthe many influences interfused in the shaping of it--Teutonic, Celtic,\nScandinavian, classic, or medi\u00e6val, the Greek apotheosis of human\nbeauty, the Christian worship of the mother of God, the exaltations\nof chivalry, the spirit of the Renascence steeping and coloring all\nthe pre\u00ebxisting idealism in a new sensuousness--must have had their\nnourishment, if not their birth, in a race feeling ancient as Aryan\nspeech, and as alien the most eastern East.\n\nOf all these various influences combined to form our ideal, the classic\nelement remains perceptibly dominant. It is true that the Hellenic\nconception of human beauty, so surviving, has been wondrously informed\nwith a conception of soul beauty never of the antique world nor of\nthe Renascence. Also it is true that the new philosophy of evolution,\nforcing recognition of the incalculable and awful cost of the Present\nto the Past, creating a totally new comprehension of duty to the\nFuture, enormously enhancing our conception of character values, has\naided more than all preceding influences together toward the highest\npossible spiritualization of the ideal of woman. Yet, however further\nspiritualized it may become through future intellectual expansion,\nthis ideal must in its very nature remain fundamentally artistic and\nsensuous.\n\nWe do not see Nature as the Oriental sees it, and as his art proves\nthat he sees it. We see it less realistically, we know it less\nintimately, because, save through the lenses of the specialist, we\ncontemplate it anthropomorphically. In one direction, indeed, our\n\u00e6sthetic sense has been cultivated to a degree incomparably finer\nthan that of the Oriental; but that direction has been passional. We\nhave learned something of the beauty of Nature through our ancient\nworship of the beauty of woman. Even from the beginning it is probable\nthat the perception of human beauty has been the main source of all\nour \u00e6sthetic sensibility. Possibly we owe to it likewise our idea of\nproportion;[1] our exaggerated appreciation of regularity; our fondness\nfor parallels, curves, and all geometrical symmetries. And in the long\nprocess of our \u00e6sthetic evolution, the ideal of woman has at last\nbecome for us an \u00e6sthetic abstraction. Through the illusion of that\nabstraction only do we perceive the charms of our world, even as forms\nmight be perceived through some tropic atmosphere whose vapors are\niridescent.\n\nNor is this all. Whatsoever has once been likened to woman by art or\nthought has been strangely informed and transformed by that momentary\nsymbolism: wherefore, through all the centuries Western fancy has\nbeen making Nature more and more feminine. Whatsoever delights us\nimagination has feminized,--the infinite tenderness of the sky,--the\nmobility of waters,--the rose of dawn,--the vast caress of Day,--Night,\nand the lights of heaven,--even the undulations of the eternal hills.\nAnd flowers, and the flush of fruit, and all things fragrant, fair,\nand gracious; the genial seasons with their voices; the laughter of\nstreams, and whisper of leaves, and ripplings of song within the\nshadows;--all sights, or sounds, or sensations that can touch our love\nof loveliness, of delicacy, of sweetness, of gentleness, make for us\nvague dreams of woman. Where our fancy lends masculinity to Nature,\nit is only in grimness and in force,--as if to enhance by rugged and\nmighty contrasts the witchcraft of the Eternal Feminine. Nay, even the\nterrible itself, if fraught with terrible beauty,--even Destruction, if\nonly shaped with the grace of destroyers,--becomes for us feminine. And\nnot beauty alone, of sight or sound, but well-nigh all that is mystic,\nsublime, or holy, now makes appeal to us through some marvelously\nwoven intricate plexus of passional sensibility. Even the subtlest\nforces of our universe speak to us of woman; new sciences have taught\nus new names for the thrill her presence wakens in the blood, for\nthat ghostly shock which is first love, for the eternal riddle of her\nfascination. Thus, out of simple human passion, through influences\nand transformations innumerable, we have evolved a cosmic emotion, a\nfeminine pantheism.\n\n\n[1] On the origin of the idea of bilateral symmetry, see Herbert\nSpencer's essay, \"The Sources of Architectural Types.\"\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nAnd now may not one venture to ask whether all the consequences of this\npassional influence in the \u00e6sthetic evolution of our Occident have been\nin the main beneficial? Underlying all those visible results of which\nwe boast as art triumphs, may there not be lurking invisible results,\nsome future revelation of which will cause more than a little shock to\nour self-esteem? Is it not quite possible that our \u00e6sthetic faculties\nhave been developed even abnormally in one direction by the power of a\nsingle emotional idea which has left us nearly, if not totally blind\nto many wonderful aspects of Nature? Or rather, must not this be the\ninevitable effect of the extreme predominance of one particular emotion\nin the evolution of our \u00e6sthetic sensibility? And finally, one may\nsurely be permitted to ask if the predominating influence itself has\nbeen the highest possible, and whether there is not a higher, known\nperhaps to the Oriental soul.\n\nI may only suggest these questions, without hoping to answer them\nsatisfactorily. But the longer I dwell in the East, the more I feel\ngrowing upon me the belief that there are exquisite artistic faculties\nand perceptions, developed in the Oriental, of which we can know\nscarcely more than we know of those unimaginable colors, invisible to\nthe human eye, yet proven to exist by the spectroscope. I think that\nsuch a possibility is indicated by certain phases of Japanese art.\n\nHere it becomes as difficult as dangerous to particularize. I dare\nhazard only some general observations. I think this marvelous art\nasserts that, out of the infinitely varied aspects of Nature, those\nwhich for us hold no suggestion whatever of sex character, those\nwhich cannot be looked at anthropomorphically, those which are\nneither masculine nor feminine, but neuter or nameless, are those\nmost profoundly loved and comprehended by the Japanese. Nay, he sees\nin Nature much that for thousands of years has remained invisible to\nus; and we are now learning from him aspects of life and beauties\nof form to which we were utterly blind before. We have finally\nmade the startling discovery that his art--notwithstanding all\nthe dogmatic assertions of Western prejudice to the contrary, and\nnotwithstanding the strangely weird impression of unreality which\nat first it produced--is never a mere creation of fantasy, but a\nveritable reflection of what has been and of what is: wherefore we\nhave recognized that it is nothing less than a higher education in art\nsimply to look at his studies of bird life, insect life, plant life,\ntree life. Compare, for example, our very finest drawings of insects\nwith Japanese drawings of similar subjects. Compare Giacomelli's\nillustrations to Michelet's \"L'Insecte\" with the commonest Japanese\nfigures of the same creatures decorating the stamped leather of a cheap\ntobacco pouch or the metal work of a cheap pipe. The whole minute\nexquisiteness of the European engraving has accomplished only an\nindifferent realism, while the Japanese artist, with a few dashes of\nhis brush, has seized and reproduced, with an incomprehensible power\nof interpretation, not only every peculiarity of the creature's shape,\nbut every special characteristic of its motion. Each figure flung from\nthe Oriental painter's brush is a lesson, a revelation, to perceptions\nunbeclouded by prejudice, an opening of the eyes of those who can see,\nthough it be only a spider in a wind-shaken web, a dragon-fly riding\na sunbeam, a pair of crabs running through sedge, the trembling of a\nfish's fins in a clear current, the lilt of a flying wasp, the pitch of\na flying duck, a mantis in fighting position, or a semi toddling up a\ncedar branch to sing. All this art is alive, intensely alive, and our\ncorresponding art looks absolutely dead beside it.\n\nTake, again, the subject of flowers. An English or German flower\npainting, the result of months of trained labor, and valued at several\nhundred pounds, would certainly not compare as a nature study, in\nthe higher sense, with a Japanese flower painting executed in twenty\nbrush strokes, and worth perhaps five sen. The former would represent\nat best but an ineffectual and painful effort to imitate a massing\nof colors. The latter would prove a perfect memory of certain flower\nshapes instantaneously flung upon paper, without any model to aid,\nand showing, not the recollection of any individual blossom, but the\nperfect realization of a general law of form expression, perfectly\nmastered, with all its moods, tenses, and inflections. The French\nalone, among Western art critics, seem fully to understand these\nfeatures of Japanese art; and among all Western artists it is the\nParisian alone who approaches the Oriental in his methods. Without\nlifting his brush from the paper, the French artist may sometimes,\nwith a single wavy line, create the almost speaking figure of a\nparticular type of man or woman. But this high development of faculty\nis confined chiefly to humorous sketching; it is still either\nmasculine or feminine. To understand what I mean by the ability of\nthe Japanese artist, my reader must imagine just such a power of\nalmost instantaneous creation as that which characterizes certain\nFrench work, applied to almost every subject except individuality,\nto nearly all recognized general types, to all aspects of Japanese\nnature, to all forms of native landscape, to clouds and flowing water\nand mists, to all the life of woods and fields, to all the moods of\nseasons and the tones of horizons and the colors of the morning and\nthe evening. Certainly, the deeper spirit of this magical art seldom\nreveals itself at first sight to unaccustomed eyes, since it appeals\nto so little in Western \u00e6sthetic experience. But by gentle degrees it\nwill so enter into an appreciative and unprejudiced mind as to modify\nprofoundly therein almost every pre\u00ebxisting sentiment in relation to\nthe beautiful. All of its meaning will indeed require many years to\nmaster, but something of its reshaping power will be felt in a much\nshorter time when the sight of an American illustrated magazine or of\nany illustrated European periodical has become almost unbearable.\n\nPsychological differences of far deeper import are suggested by\nother facts, capable of exposition in words, but not capable of\ninterpretation through Western standards of \u00e6sthetics or Western\nfeeling of any sort. For instance, I have been watching two old men\nplanting young trees in the garden of a neighboring temple. They\nsometimes spend nearly an hour in planting a single sapling. Having\nfixed it in the ground, they retire to a distance to study the position\nof all its lines, and consult together about it. As a consequence, the\nsapling is taken up and replanted in a slightly different position.\nThis is done no less than eight times before the little tree can be\nperfectly adjusted into the plan of the garden. Those two old men are\ncomposing a mysterious thought with their little trees, changing them,\ntransferring them, removing or replacing them, even as a poet changes\nand shifts his words, to give to his verse the most delicate or the\nmost forcible expression possible.\n\nIn every large Japanese cottage there are several alcoves, or tokonoma,\none in each of the principal rooms. In these alcoves the art treasures\nof the family are exhibited.[1] Within each toko a kakemono is hung;\nand upon its slightly elevated floor (usually of polished wood)\nare placed flower vases and one or two artistic objects. Flowers\nare arranged in the toko vases according to ancient rules which Mr.\nConder's beautiful hook will tell you a great deal about; and the\nkakemono and the art objects there displayed are changed at regular\nintervals, according to occasion and season. Now, in a certain alcove,\nI have at various times seen many different things of beauty: a\nChinese statuette of ivory, an incense vase of bronze,--representing a\ncloud-riding pair of dragons,--the wood carving of a Buddhist pilgrim\nresting by the wayside and mopping his bald pate, masterpieces of\nlacquer ware and lovely Ky\u014dto porcelains, and a large stone placed on\na pedestal of heavy, costly wood, expressly made for it. I do not know\nwhether you could see any beauty in that stone; it is neither hewn nor\npolished, nor does it possess the least imaginable intrinsic value.\nIt is simply a gray water-worn stone from the bed of a stream. Yet it\ncost more than one of those Ky\u014dto vases which sometimes replace it, and\nwhich you would be glad to pay a very high price for.\n\nIn the garden of the little house I now occupy in Kumamoto, there are\nabout fifteen rocks, or large stones, of as many shapes and sizes.\nThey also have no real intrinsic value, not even as possible building\nmaterial. And yet the proprietor of the garden paid for them something\nmore than seven hundred and fifty Japanese dollars, or considerably\nmore than the pretty house itself could possibly have cost. And it\nwould be quite wrong to suppose the cost of the stones due to the\nexpense of their transportation from the bed of the Shira-kawa. No;\nthey are worth seven hundred and fifty dollars only because they are\nconsidered beautiful to a certain degree, and because there is a large\nlocal demand for beautiful stones. They are not even of the best class,\nor they would have cost a great deal more. Now, until you can perceive\nthat a big rough stone may have more \u00e6sthetic suggestiveness than a\ncostly steel engraving, that it is a thing of beauty and a joy forever,\nyou cannot begin to understand how a Japanese sees Nature. \"But what,\"\nyou may ask, \"can be beautiful in a common stone?\" Many things; but I\nwill mention only one,--irregularity.\n\nIn my little Japanese house, the fusuma, or sliding screens of opaque\npaper between room and room, have designs at which I am never tired of\nlooking. The designs vary in different parts of the dwelling; I will\nspeak only of the fusuma dividing my study from a smaller apartment.\nThe ground color is a delicate cream-yellow; and the golden pattern\nis very simple,--the mystic-jewel symbols of Buddhism scattered over\nthe surface by pairs. But no two sets of pairs are placed at exactly\nthe same distance from each other; and the symbols themselves are\ncuriously diversified, never appearing twice in exactly the same\nposition or relation. Sometimes one jewel is transparent, and its\nfellow opaque; sometimes both are opaque or both diaphanous; sometimes\nthe transparent one is the larger of the two; sometimes the opaque is\nthe larger; sometimes both are precisely the same size; sometimes they\noverlap, and sometimes do not touch; sometimes the opaque is on the\nleft, sometimes on the right; sometimes the transparent jewel is above,\nsometimes below. Vainly does the eye roam over the whole surface in\nsearch of a repetition, or of anything resembling regularity, either\nin distribution, juxtaposition, grouping, dimensions, or contrasts.\nAnd throughout the whole dwelling nothing resembling regularity in\nthe various decorative designs can be found. The ingenuity by which\nit is avoided is amazing,--rises to the dignify of genius. Now, all\nthis is a common characteristic of Japanese decorative art; and after\nhaving lived a few years under its influences, the sight of a regular\npattern upon a wall, a carpet, a curtain, a ceiling, upon any decorated\nsurface, pains like a horrible vulgarism. Surely, it is because we have\nso long been accustomed to look at Nature anthropomorphically that\nwe can still endure mechanical ugliness in our own decorative art,\nand that we remain insensible to charms of Nature which are clearly\nperceived even by the eyes of the Japanese child, wondering over its\nmother's shoulder at the green and blue wonder of the world.\n\n\"_He_\" saith a Buddhist text, \"_who discerns that nothingness is\nlaw,--such a one hath wisdom._\"\n\n\n[1] The tokonoma, or toko, is said to have been first introduced into\nJapanese architecture about four hundred and fifty years ago, by the\nBuddhist priest Eisai, who had studied in China. Perhaps the alcove was\noriginally devised and used for the exhibition of sacred objects; but\nto-day, among the cultivated, it would be deemed in very had taste to\ndisplay either images of the gods or sacred paintings in the toko of\na guest-room. The toko is still, however, a sacred place in a certain\nsense. No one should ever step upon it, or squat within it, or even\nplace in it anything not pure, or anything offensive to taste. There\nis an elaborate code of etiquette in relation to it. The most honored\namong guests is always placed nearest to it; and guests take their\nplaces, according to rank, nearer to or further from it.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nBITS OF LIFE AND DEATH\n\n\n\nI\n\n\n_July_ 25. Three extraordinary visits have been made to my house this\nweek.\n\nThe first was that of the professional well-cleaners. For once every\nyear all wells must be emptied and cleansed, lest the God of Wells,\nSuijin-Sama, be wroth. On this occasion I learned some things relating\nto Japanese wells and the tutelar deity of them, who has two names,\nbeing also called Mizuha-nome-no-mikoto.\n\nSuijin-Sama protects all wells, keeping their water sweet and cool,\nprovided that house-owners observe his laws of cleanliness, which are\nrigid. To those who break them sickness comes, and death. Rarely the\ngod manifests himself, taking the form of a serpent. I have never seen\nany temple dedicated to him. But once each month a Shinto priest\nvisits the homes of pious families having wells, and he repeats certain\nancient prayers to the Well-God, and plants nobori, little paper flags,\nwhich are symbols, at the edge of the well. After the well has been\ncleaned, also, this is done. Then the first bucket of the new water\nmust be drawn up by a man; for if a woman first draw water, the well\nwill always thereafter remain muddy.\n\nThe god has little servants to help him in his work. These are the\nsmall fishes the Japanese call funa.[1] One or two funa are kept in\nevery well, to clear the water of larvae. When a well is cleaned, great\ncare is taken of the little fish. It was on the occasion of the coming\nof the well-cleaners that I first learned of the existence of a pair of\nfuna in my own well. They were placed in a tub of cool water while the\nwell was refilling, and thereafter were replunged into their solitude.\n\nThe water of my well is clear and ice-cold. But now I can never drink\nof it without a thought of those two small white lives circling always\nin darkness, and startled through untold years by the descent of\nplashing buckets.\n\nThe second curious visit was that of the district firemen, in full\ncostume, with their hand-engines. According to ancient custom, they\nmake a round of all their district once a year during the dry spell,\nand throw water over the hot roofs, and receive some small perquisite\nfrom each wealthy householder. There is a belief that when it has not\nrained for a long time roofs may be ignited by the mere heat of the\nsun. The firemen played with their hose upon my roofs, trees, and\ngarden, producing considerable refreshment; and in return I bestowed on\nthem wherewith to buy sak\u00e9.\n\nThe third visit was that of a deputation of children asking for some\nhelp to celebrate fittingly the festival of Jiz\u014d, who has a shrine on\nthe other side of the street, exactly opposite my house. I was very\nglad to contribute to their fund, for I love the gentle god, and I\nknew the festival would be delightful. Early next morning, I saw that\nthe shrine had already been decked with flowers and votive lanterns.\nA new bib had been put about Jiz\u014d's neck, and a Buddhist repast set\nbefore him. Later on, carpenters constructed a dancing-platform in the\ntemple court for the children to dance upon; and before sundown the\ntoy-sellers had erected and stocked a small street of booths inside the\nprecincts. After dark I went out into a great glory of lantern fires\nto see the children dance; and I found, perched before my gate, an\nenormous dragon-fly more than three feet long. It was a token of the\nchildren's gratitude for the little help I had given them,--a kazari, a\ndecoration. I was startled for the moment by the realism of the thing;\nbut upon close examination I discovered that the body was a pine branch\nwrapped with colored paper, the four wings were four fire-shovels,\nand the gleaming head was a little teapot. The whole was lighted by a\ncandle so placed as to make extraordinary shadows, which formed part of\nthe design. It was a wonderful instance of art sense working without a\nspeck of artistic material, yet it was all the labor of a poor little\nchild only eight years old!\n\n\n[1] A sort of small silver carp.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\n_July_ 30. The next house to mine, on the south side,--a low, dingy\nstructure,--is that of a dyer. You can always tell where a Japanese\ndyer is by the long pieces of silk or cotton stretched between bamboo\npoles before his door to dry in the sun,--broad bands of rich azure, of\npurple, of rose, pale blue, pearl gray. Yesterday my neighbor coaxed me\nto pay the family a visit; and after having been led through the front\npart of their little dwelling, I was surprised to find myself looking\nfrom a rear veranda at a garden worthy of some old Ky\u014dto palace. There\nwas a dainty landscape in miniature, and a pond of clear water peopled\nby goldfish having wonderfully compound tails.\n\nWhen I had enjoyed this spectacle awhile, the dyer led me to a small\nroom fitted up as a Buddhist chapel. Though everything had had to\nbe made on a reduced scale, I did not remember to have seen a more\nartistic display in any temple. He told me it had cost him about\nfifteen hundred yen. I did not understand how even that sum could have\nsufficed.\n\nThere were three elaborately carven altars,-a triple blaze of gold\nlacquer-work; a number of charming Buddhist images; many exquisite\nvessels; an ebony reading-desk; a mokugy\u014d[1]; two fine bells,--in\nshort, all the paraphernalia of a temple in miniature. My host had\nstudied at a Buddhist temple in his youth, and knew the sutras, of\nwhich he had all that are used by the J\u014dd\u014d sect. He told me that he\ncould celebrate any of the ordinary services. Daily, at a fixed hour,\nthe whole family assembled in the chapel for prayers; and he generally\nread the Ky\u014d for them. But on extraordinary occasions a Buddhist priest\nfrom the neighboring temple would come to officiate.\n\nHe told me a queer story about robbers. Dyers are peculiarly liable\nto be visited by robbers; partly by reason of the value of the silks\nintrusted to them, and also because the business is known to be\nlucrative. One evening the family were robbed. The master was out\nof the city; his old mother, his wife, and a female servant were the\nonly persons in the house at the time. Three men, having their faces\nmasked and carrying long swords, entered the door. One asked the\nservant whether any of the apprentices were still in the building;\nand she, hoping to frighten the invaders away, answered that the\nyoung men were all still at work. But the robbers were not disturbed\nby this assurance. One posted himself at the entrance, the other two\nstrode into the sleeping-apartment. The women started up in alarm,\nand the wife asked, \"Why do you wish to kill us?\" He who seemed to be\nthe leader answered, \"We do not wish to kill you; we want money only.\nBut if we do not get it, then it will be this\"--striking his sword\ninto the matting. The old mother said, \"Be so kind as not to frighten\nmy daughter-in-law, and I will give you whatever money there is in\nthe house. But you ought to know there cannot be much, as my son has\ngone to Ky\u014dto.\" She handed them the money-drawer and her own purse.\nThere were, just twenty-seven yen and eighty-four sen. The head robber\ncounted it, and said, quite gently, \"We do not want to frighten you.\nWe know you are a very devout believer in Buddhism, and we think you\nwould not tell a lie. Is this all?\" \"Yes, it is all,\" she answered.\n\"I am, as you say, a believer in the teaching of the Buddha, and if\nyou come to rob me now, I believe it is only because I myself, in some\nformer life, once robbed you. This is my punishment for that fault,\nand so, instead of wishing to deceive you, I feel grateful at this\nopportunity to atone for the wrong which I did to you in my previous\nstate of existence.\" The robber laughed, and said, \"You are a good old\nwoman, and we believe you. If you were poor, we would not rob you at\nall. Now we only want a couple of kimono and this,\"--laying his hand on\na very fine silk overdress. The old woman replied, \"All my son's kimono\nI can give you, but I beg you will not take that, for it does not\nbelong to my son, and was confided to us only for dyeing. What is ours\nI can give, but I cannot give what belongs to another.\" \"That is quite\nright,\" approved the robber, \"and we shall not take it.\"\n\nAfter receiving a few robes, the robbers said good-night, very\npolitely, but ordered the women not to look after them. The old servant\nwas still near the door. As the chief robber passed her, he said, \"You\ntold us a lie,--so take that!\"--and struck her senseless. None of the\nrobbers were ever caught.\n\n\n[1] A hollow wooden block shaped like a dolphin's head. It is tapped in\naccompaniment to the chanting of the Buddhist sutras.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\n_August_ 29. When a body has been burned, according to the funeral\nrites of certain Buddhist sects, search is made among the ashes for a\nlittle bone called the Hotoke-San, or \"Lord Buddha,\" popularly supposed\nto be a little bone of the throat. What bone it really is I do not\nknow, never having had a chance to examine such a relic.\n\nAccording to the shape of this little bone when found after the\nburning, the future condition of the dead may be predicted. Should the\nnext state to which the soul is destined be one of happiness, the bone\nwill have the form of a small image of Buddha. But if the next birth\nis to be unhappy, then the bone will have either an ugly shape, or no\nshape at all.\n\nA little boy, the son of a neighboring tobacconist, died the night\nbefore last, and to-day the corpse was burned. The little hone\nleft over from the burning was discovered to have the form of three\nBuddhas,--San-Tai,--which may have afforded some spiritual consolation\nto the bereaved parents.[1]\n\n\n[1] At the great temple of Tenn\u014dji, at \u014csaka, all such bones are\ndropped into a vault; and according _to the sound each makes in\nfalling_, further evidence about the G\u014dsho is said to be obtained.\nAfter a hundred years from the time of beginning this curious\ncollection, all these bones are to be ground into a kind of paste, out\nof which a colossal statue of Buddha is to be made.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\n_September_ 13. A letter from Matsue, Izumo, tells me that the old\nman who used to supply me with pipestems is dead. (A Japanese pipe,\nyou must know, consists of three pieces, usually,--a metal bowl large\nenough to hold a pea, a metal mouthpiece, and a bamboo stem which is\nrenewed at regular intervals.) He used to stain his pipestems very\nprettily: some looked like porcupine quills, and some like cylinders of\nsnakeskin. He lived in a queer narrow little street at the verge of the\ncity. I know the street because in it there is a famous statue of Jiz\u014d\ncalled Shiroko-\u014d,--\"White-Child-Jiz\u014d,\"--which I once went to see. They\nwhiten its face, like the face of a dancing-girl, for some reason which\nI have never been able to find out.\n\nThe old man had a daughter, O-Masu, about whom a story is told. O-Masu\nis still alive. She has been a happy wife for many years; but she is\ndumb. Long ago, an angry mob sacked and destroyed the dwelling and the\nstorehouses of a rice speculator in the city. His money, including a\nquantity of gold coin (_koban_), was scattered through the street.\nThe rioters--rude, honest peasants--did not want it: they wished to\ndestroy, not to steal. But O-Masu's father, the same evening, picked up\na koban from the mud, and took it home. Later on a neighbor denounced\nhim, and secured his arrest. The judge before whom he was summoned\ntried to obtain certain evidence by cross-questioning O-Masu, then a\nshy girl of fifteen. She felt that if she continued to answer she would\nbe made, in spite of herself, to give testimony unfavorable to her\nfather; that she was in the presence of a trained inquisitor, capable,\nwithout effort, of forcing her to acknowledge everything she knew. She\nceased to speak, and a stream of blood gushed from her mouth. She had\nsilenced herself forever by simply biting off her tongue. Her father\nwas acquitted. A merchant who admired the act demanded her in marriage,\nand supported her father in his old age.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\n_October_ 10. There is said to be one day--only one--in the life of a\nchild during which it can remember and speak of its former birth.\n\nOn the very day that it becomes exactly two years old, the child is\ntaken by its mother into the most quiet part of the house, and is\nplaced in a mi, or rice-winnowing basket. The child sits down in the\nmi. Then the mother says, calling the child by name, \"_Omae no zens\u00e9\nwa, nande attakane?--iute, g\u014dran._\"[1] Then the child always answers\nin one word. For some mysterious reason, no more lengthy reply is\never given. Often the answer is so enigmatic that some priest or\nfortune-teller must be asked to interpret it. For instance, yesterday,\nthe little son of a copper-smith living near us answered only \"Um\u00e9\"\nto the magical question. Now um\u00e9 might mean a plum-flower, a plum,\nor a girl's name,--\"Flower-of-the-Plum.\" Could it mean that the boy\nremembered having been a girl? Or that he had been a plum-tree? \"Souls\nof men do not enter plum-trees,\" said a neighbor. A fortune-teller this\nmorning declared, on being questioned about the riddle, that the boy\nhad probably been a scholar, poet, or statesman, because the plum-tree\nis the symbol of Tenjin, patron of scholars, statesmen, and men of\nletters.\n\n\n[1] \"Thy previous life as for,--what was it? Honorably look [or,\n_please_ look] and tell.\"\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\n_November_ 17. An astonishing book might be written about those things\nin Japanese life which no foreigner can understand. Such a book should\ninclude the study of certain rare but terrible results of anger.\n\nAs a national rule, the Japanese seldom allow themselves to show anger.\nEven among the common classes, any serious menace is apt to take the\nform of a smiling assurance that your favor shall be remembered, and\nthat its recipient is grateful. (Do not suppose, however, that this\nis ironical, in our sense of the word: it is only euphemistic,--ugly\nthings not being called by their real names.) But this smiling\nassurance may possibly mean death. When vengeance comes, it comes\nunexpectedly. Neither distance nor time, within the empire, can offer\nany obstacles to the avenger who can walk fifty miles a day, whose\nwhole baggage can be tied up in a very small towel, and whose patience\nis almost infinite. He may choose a knife, but is much more likely\nto use a sword,--a Japanese sword. This, in Japanese hands, is the\ndeadliest of weapons; and the killing of ten or twelve persons by one\nangry man may occupy less than a minute. It does not often happen that\nthe murderer thinks of trying to escape. Ancient custom requires that,\nhaving taken another life, he should take his own; wherefore to fall\ninto the hands of the police would be to disgrace his name. He has made\nhis preparations beforehand, written his letters, arranged for his\nfuneral, perhaps--as in one appalling instance last year--even chiseled\nhis own tombstone. Having fully accomplished his revenge, he kills\nhimself.\n\nThere has just occurred, not far from the city, at the village called\nSugikamimura, one of those tragedies which are difficult to understand.\nThe chief actors were, Narumatsu Ichir\u014d, a young shopkeeper; his wife,\nO-Noto, twenty years of age, to whom he had been married only a year;\nand O-Noto's maternal uncle, one Sugimoto Ivasaku, a man of violent\ntemper, who had once been in prison. The tragedy was in four acts.\n\nAct I. _Scene: Interior of public bathhouse. Sugimoto Nasaku in the\nbath. Enter Narumatsu Ichir\u014d, who strips, gets into the smoking water\nwithout noticing his relative, and cries out,_--\n\n\"_Aa!_ as if one should be in Jigoku, so hot this water is!\"\n\n(The word \"Jigoku\" signifies the Buddhist hell; but, in common\nparlance, it also signifies a prison,--this time an unfortunate\ncoincidence.)\n\n_Kasaku_ (terribly angry). \"A raw baby, you, to seek a hard quarrel!\nWhat do you not like?\"\n\n_Ichir\u014d_ (surprised and alarmed, but rallying against the tone of\nKasaku). \"Nay! What? That I said need not by you be explained. Though I\nsaid the water was hot, your help to make it hotter was not asked.\"\n\n_Kasaku_ (now dangerous). \"Though for my own fault, not once, but twice\nin the hell of prison I had been, what should there be wonderful in it?\nEither an idiot child or a low scoundrel you must be!\"\n\n(_Each eyes the other for a spring, but each hesitates, although things\nno Japanese should suffer himself to say have been said. They are too\nevenly matched, the old and the young._)\n\n_Kasaku_ (growing cooler as Ichir\u014d becomes angrier). \"A child, a raw\nchild, to quarrel with _me!_ What should a baby do with a wife? Your\nwife is my blood, mine,--the blood of the man from hell! Give her back\nto my house.\"\n\n_Ichir\u014d_ (desperately, now fully assured Kasaku is physically the\nbetter man). \"Return my wife? You say to return her? Right quickly\nshall she be returned, at once!\"\n\nSo far everything is clear enough. Then Ichiro hurries home, caresses\nhis wife, assures her of his love, tells her all, and sends her, not to\nKasaku's house, but to that of her brother. Two days later, a little\nafter dark, O-Noto is called to the door by her husband, and the two\ndisappear in the night.\n\nAct II. _Night scene. House of Kasaku closed: light appears through\nchinks of sliding shutters. Shadow of a woman approaches. Sound of\nknocking. Shutters slide back._\n\n_Wife of Kasaku_ (recognizing O-Noto). \"_Aa! aa!_ Joyful it is to see\nyou! Deign to enter, and some honorable tea to take.\"\n\n_O-Noto_ (speaking very sweetly). \"Thanks indeed. But where is Kasaku\nSan?\"\n\n_Wife of Kasaku._ \"To the other village he has gone, but must soon\nreturn. Deign to come in and wait for him.\"\n\n_O-Noto_ (still more sweetly). \"Very great thanks. A little, and I\ncome. But first I must tell my brother.\"\n\n(_Bows, and slips off into the darkness, and becomes a shadow again,\nwhich joins another shadow. The two shadows remain motionless._)\n\nAct III. _Scene: Bank of a river at night, fringed by pines. Silhouette\nof the house of Kasaku far away. O-Noto and Ichiro under the trees,\nIchir\u014d with a lantern. Both have white towels tightly bound round their\nheads; their robes are girded well up, and their sleeves caught back\nwith tasuki cords, to leave the arms free. Each carries a long sword._\n\nIt is the hour, as the Japanese most expressively say, \"when the sound\nof the river is loudest.\" There is no other sound but a long occasional\nhumming of wind in the needles of the pines; for it is late autumn, and\nthe frogs are silent. The two shadows do not speak, and the sound of\nthe river grows louder.\n\nSuddenly there is the noise of a plash far off,--somebody crossing\nthe shallow stream; then an echo of wooden sandals,--irregular,\nstaggering,--the footsteps of a drunkard, coming nearer and nearer. The\ndrunkard lifts up his voice: it is Kasaku's voice. He sings,--\n\n    \"_Suita okata ni suirarete_;\n    _Ya-ton-ton!_\"[1]\n\n--a song of love and wine.\n\nImmediately the two shadows start toward the singer at a run,--a\nnoiseless flitting, for their feet are shod with waraji. Kasaku still\nsings. Suddenly a loose stone turns under him; he wrenches his ankle,\nand utters a growl of anger. Almost in the same instant a lantern is\nheld close to his face. Perhaps for thirty seconds it remains there. No\none speaks. The yellow light shows three strangely inexpressive masks\nrather than visages. Kasaku sobers at once,--recognizing the faces,\nremembering the incident of the bathhouse, and seeing the swords. But\nhe is not afraid, and presently bursts into a mocking laugh.\n\n\"H\u00e9! h\u00e9! The Ichir\u014d pair! And so you take me, too, for a baby? What are\nyou doing with such things in your hands? Let me show you how to use\nthem.\"\n\nBut Ichir\u014d, who has dropped the lantern, suddenly delivers, with the\nfull swing of both hands, a sword-slash that nearly severs Kasaku's\nright arm from the shoulder; and as the victim staggers, the sword of\nthe woman cleaves through his left shoulder. He falls with one fearful\ncry, \"_Hitogoroshi!_\" which means \"murder.\" But he does not cry again.\nFor ten whole minutes the swords are busy with him. The lantern, still\nglowing, lights the ghastliness. Two belated pedestrians approach,\nhear, see, drop their wooden sandals from their feet, and flee back\ninto the darkness without a word. Ichir\u014d and O-Noto sit down by the\nlantern to take breath, for the work was hard.\n\nThe son of Kasaku, a boy of fourteen, comes running to find his father.\nHe has heard the song, then the cry; but he has not yet learned fear.\nThe two suffer him to approach. As he nears O-Noto, the woman seizes\nhim, flings him down, twists his slender arms under her knees, and\nclutches the sword. But Ichir\u014d, still panting, cries, \"No! no! Not the\nboy! He did us no wrong!\" O-Noto releases him. He is too stupefied to\nmove.\n\nShe slaps his face terribly, crying, \"Go!\" He runs,--not daring to\nshriek.\n\nIchir\u014d and O-Noto leave the chopped mass, walk to the house of Kasaku,\nand call loudly. There is no reply;--only the pathetic, crouching\nsilence of women and children waiting death. But they are bidden not to\nfear. Then Ichir\u014d cries:--\n\n\"Honorable funeral prepare! Kasaku by my hand is now dead!\"\n\n\"And by mine!\" shrills O-Noto.\n\nThen the footsteps recede.\n\n\nAct IV. _Scene: Interior of Ichir\u014d's house. Three persons kneeling in\nthe guest-room: Ichir\u014d, his wife, and an aged woman, who is weeping._\n\nIchir\u014d. \"And now, mother, to leave you alone in this world, though\nyou have no other son, is indeed an evil thing. I can only pray your\nforgiveness. But my uncle will always care for you, and to his house\nyou must go at once, since it is time we two should die. No common,\nvulgar death shall we have, but an elegant, splendid death,--_Rippana!_\nAnd you must not see it. Now go.\"\n\nShe passes away, with a wail. The doors are solidly barred behind her.\nAll is ready.\n\nO-Noto thrusts the point of the sword into her throat. But she still\nstruggles. With a last kind word Ichiro ends her pain by a stroke that\nsevers the head.\n\nAnd then?\n\nThen he takes his writing-box, prepares the inkstone, grinds some ink,\nchooses a good brush, and, on carefully selected paper, composes five\npoems, of which this is the last:--\n\n    \"Meido yori\n    Yu demp\u014d ga\n    Aru naraba,\n    Hay aha an chaku\n    M\u014dshi okuran.\"[2]\n\nThen he cuts his own throat perfectly well.\n\nNow, it was clearly shown, during the official investigation of these\nfacts, that Ichir\u014d and his wife had been universally liked, and had\nbeen from their childhood noted for amiability.\n\nThe scientific problem of the origin of the Japanese has never yet been\nsolved. But sometimes it seems to me that those who argue in favor\nof a partly Malay origin have some psychological evidence in their\nfavor. Under the submissive sweetness of the gentlest Japanese woman--a\nsweetness of which the Occidental can scarcely form any idea--there\nexist possibilities of hardness absolutely inconceivable without ocular\nevidence. A thousand times she can forgive, can sacrifice herself in a\nthousand ways unutterably touching: but let one particular soul-nerve\nbe stung, and fire shall forgive sooner than she. Then there may\nsuddenly appear in that frail-seeming woman an incredible courage,\nan appalling, measured, tireless purpose of honest vengeance. Under\nall the amazing self-control and patience of the man there exists an\nadamantine something very dangerous to reach. Touch it wantonly, and\nthere can be no pardon. But resentment is seldom likely to be excited\nby mere hazard. Motives are keenly judged. An error can be forgiven;\ndeliberate malice never.\n\nIn the house of any rich family the guest is likely to be shown some\nof the heirlooms. Among these are almost sure to be certain articles\nbelonging to those elaborate tea ceremonies peculiar to Japan. A pretty\nlittle box, perhaps, will be set before you. Opening it, you see only\na beautiful silk bag, closed with a silk running-cord decked with tiny\ntassels. Very soft and choice the silk is, and elaborately figured.\nWhat marvel can be hidden under such a covering? You open the bag, and\nsee within another bag, of a different quality of silk, but very fine.\nOpen that, and lo! a third, which contains a fourth, which contains\na fifth, which contains a sixth, which contains a seventh bag, which\ncontains the strangest, roughest, hardest vessel of Chinese clay that\nyou ever beheld. Yet it is not only curious but precious: it may be\nmore than a thousand years old.\n\nEven thus have centuries of the highest social culture wrapped the\nJapanese character about with many priceless soft coverings of\ncourtesy, of delicacy, of patience, of sweetness, of moral sentiment.\nBut underneath these charming multiple coverings there remains the\nprimitive clay, hard as iron;--kneaded perhaps with all the mettle of\nthe Mongol,--all the dangerous suppleness of the Malay.\n\n\n[1] The meaning is, \"Give to the beloved one a little more [wine].\" The\n\"_Ya-ton-ton_\" is only a burden, without exact meaning, like our own\n\"_With a hey! and a ho!_\" etc.\n\n[2] The meaning is about as follows: \"If from the Meido it be possible\nto send letters or telegrams, I shall write and forward news of our\nspeedy safe arrival there.\"\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\n_December_ 28. Beyond the high fence inclosing my garden in the\nrear rise the thatched roofs of some very small houses occupied by\nfamilies of the poorest class. From one of these little dwellings there\ncontinually issues a sound of groaning,--the deep groaning of a man in\npain. I have heard it for more than a week, both night and day, but\nlatterly the sounds have been growing longer and louder, as if every\nbreath were an agony. \"Somebody there is very sick,\" says Manyemon, my\nold interpreter, with an expression of extreme sympathy.\n\nThe sounds have begun to make me nervous. I reply, rather brutally, \"I\nthink it would be better for all concerned if that somebody were dead.\"\n\nManyemon makes three times a quick, sudden gesture with both hands,\nas if to throw off the influence of my wicked words, mutters a\nlittle Buddhist prayer, and leaves me with a look of reproach. Then,\nconscience-stricken, I send a servant to inquire if the sick person\nhas a doctor, and whether any aid can be given. Presently the servant\nreturns with the information that a doctor is regularly attending the\nsufferer, and that nothing else can be done.\n\nI notice, however, that, in spite of his cobwebby gestures, Manyemon's\npatient nerves have also become affected by those sounds. He has even\nconfessed that he wants to stay in the little front room, near the\nstreet, so as to be away from them as far as possible. I can neither\nwrite nor read. My study being in the extreme rear, the groaning is\nthere almost as audible as if the sick man were in the room itself.\nThere is always in such utterances of suffering a certain ghastly\ntimbre by which the intensity of the suffering can be estimated; and I\nkeep asking myself, How can it be possible for the human being making\nthose sounds by which I am tortured, to endure much longer?\n\nIt is a positive relief, later in the morning, to hear the moaning\ndrowned by the beating of a little Buddhist drum in the sick man's\nroom, and the chanting of the _Namu my\u014d ho renge ky\u014d_ by a multitude\nof voices. Evidently there is a gathering of priests and relatives\nin the house. \"Somebody is going to die,\" Manyemon says. And he also\nrepeats the holy words of praise to the Lotus of the Good Law.\n\nThe chanting and the tapping of the drum continue for several hours.\nAs they cease, the groaning is heard again. Every breath a groan!\nToward evening it grows worse--horrible. Then it suddenly stops. There\nis a dead silence of minutes. And then we hear a passionate burst of\nweeping,--the weeping of a woman,--and voices calling a name. \"Ah!\nsomebody is dead!\" Manyemon says.\n\nWe hold council. Manyemon has found out that the people are miserably\npoor; and I, because my conscience smites me, propose to send them the\namount of the funeral expenses, a very small sum. Manyemon thinks I\nwish to do this out of pure benevolence, and says pretty things. We\nsend the servant with a kind message, and instructions to learn if\npossible the history of the dead man. I cannot help suspecting some\nsort of tragedy; and a Japanese tragedy is generally interesting.\n\n_December_ 29. As I had surmised, the story of the dead man was worth\nlearning. The family consisted of four,--the father and mother, both\nvery old and feeble, and two sons. It was the eldest son, a man of\nthirty-four, who had died. He had been sick for seven years. The\nyounger brother, a kurumaya, had been the sole support of the whole\nfamily. He had no vehicle of his own, but hired one, paying five sen a\nday for the use of it. Though strong and a swift runner, he could earn\nlittle: there is in these days too much competition for the business\nto be profitable. It taxed all his powers to support his parents\nand his ailing brother; nor could he have done it without unfailing\nself-denial. He never indulged himself even to the extent of a cup of\nsak\u00e9; he remained unmarried; he lived only for his filial and fraternal\nduty.\n\nThis was the story of the dead brother: When about twenty years of age,\nand following the occupation of a fish-seller, he had fallen in love\nwith a pretty servant at an inn. The girl returned his affection. They\npledged themselves to each other. But difficulties arose in the way of\ntheir marriage.\n\nThe girl was pretty enough to have attracted the attention of a man of\nsome means, who demanded her hand in the customary way. She disliked\nhim; but the conditions he was able to offer decided her parents in his\nfavor. Despairing of union, the two lovers resolved to perform j\u014dshi.\nSomewhere or other they met at night, renewed their pledge in wine, and\nbade farewell to the world. The young man then killed his sweetheart\nwith one blow of a sword, and immediately afterward cut his own throat\nwith the same weapon. But people rushed into the room before he had\nexpired, took away the sword, sent for the police, and summoned a\nmilitary surgeon from the garrison. The would-be suicide was removed to\nthe hospital, skillfully nursed back to health, and after some months\nof convalescence was put on trial for murder.\n\nWhat sentence was passed I could not fully learn. In those days,\nJapanese judges used a good deal of personal discretion when dealing\nwith emotional crime; and their exercise of pity had not yet been\nrestricted by codes framed upon Western models. Perhaps in this case\nthey thought that to have survived a j\u014dshi was in itself a severe\npunishment. Public opinion is less merciful, in such instances, than\nlaw. After a term of imprisonment the miserable man was allowed\nto return to his family, but was placed under perpetual police\nsurveillance. The people shrank from him. He made the mistake of living\non. Only his parents and brother remained to him. And soon he became a\nvictim of unspeakable physical suffering; yet he clung to life.\n\nThe old wound in his throat, although treated at the time as skillfully\nas circumstances permitted, began to cause terrible pain. After its\napparent healing, some slow cancerous growth commenced to spread\nfrom it, reaching into the breathing-passages above and below where\nthe sword-blade had passed. The surgeon's knife, the torture of the\ncautery, could only delay the end. But the man lingered through seven\nyears of continually increasing agony. There are dark beliefs about\nthe results of betraying the dead,--of breaking the mutual promise to\ntravel together to the Meido. Men said that the hand of the murdered\ngirl always reopened the wound,--undid by night all that the surgeon\ncould accomplish by day. For at night the pain invariably increased,\nbecoming most terrible at the precise hour of the attempted shinj\u016b!\n\nMeanwhile, through abstemiousness and extraordinary self-denial, the\nfamily found means to pay for medicines, for attendance, and for more\nnourishing food than they themselves ever indulged in. They prolonged\nby all possible means the life that was their shame, their poverty,\ntheir burden. And now that death has taken away that burden, they weep!\n\nPerhaps all of us learn to love that which we train ourselves to make\nsacrifices for, whatever pain it may cause. Indeed, the question might\nbe asked whether we do not love most that which causes us most pain.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nTHE STONE BUDDHA\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nOn the ridge of the hill behind the Government College,--above a\nsuccession of tiny farm fields ascending the slope by terraces,--there\nis an ancient village cemetery. It is no longer used: the people of\nKurogamimura now bury their dead in a more secluded spot; and I think\ntheir fields are beginning already to encroach upon the limits of the\nold graveyard.\n\nHaving an idle hour to pass between two classes, I resolve to pay the\nridge a visit. Harmless thin black snakes wiggle across the way as I\nclimb; and immense grasshoppers, exactly the color of parched leaves,\nwhirr away from my shadow. The little field path vanishes altogether\nunder coarse grass before reaching the broken steps at the cemetery\ngate; and in the cemetery itself there is no path at all--only weeds\nand stones. But there is a fine view from the ridge: the vast green\nPlain of Higo, and beyond it bright blue hills in a half-ring against\nthe horizon light, and even beyond them the cone of Aso smoking forever.\n\nBelow me, as in a bird's-eye view, appears the college, like a\nminiature modern town, with its long ranges of many windowed\nbuildings, all of the year 1887. They represent the purely utilitarian\narchitecture of the nineteenth century: they might be situated equally\nwell in Kent or in Auckland or in New Hampshire without appearing in\nthe least out of tone with the age. But the terraced fields above and\nthe figures toiling in them might be of the fifth century. The language\ncut upon the haka whereon I lean is transliterated Sanscrit. And there\nis a Buddha beside me, sitting upon his lotus of stone just as he sat\nin the days of Kato Kiyomasa. His meditative gaze slants down between\nhis half-closed eyelids upon the Government College and its tumultuous\nlife; and he smiles the smile of one who has received an injury not to\nbe resented. This is not the expression wrought by the sculptor: moss\nand scurf have distorted it. I also observe that his hands are broken.\nI am sorry, and try to scrape the moss away from the little symbolic\nprotuberance on his forehead, remembering the ancient text of the\n\"Lotus of the Good Law:\"--\n\n\"_There issued a ray of light from the circle of hair between the\nbrows of the Lord. It extended over eighteen hundred thousand Buddha\nfields, so that all those Buddha fields appeared wholly illuminated\nby its radiance, down to the great hell Aviki, and up to the limit of\nexistence. And all the beings in each of the Six States of existence\nbecame visible,--all without exception. Even the Lord Buddhas in those\nBuddha fields who had reached final Nirvana, all became visible._\"\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe sun is high behind me; the landscape before me as in an old\nJapanese picture-book. In old Japanese color-prints there are, as a\nrule, no shadows. And the Plain of Higo, all shadowless, broadens\ngreenly to the horizon, where the blue spectres of the peaks seem to\nfloat in the enormous glow. But the vast level presents no uniform\nhue: it is banded and seamed by all tones of green, intercrossed as if\nlaid on by long strokes of a brush. In this again the vision resembles\nsome scene from a Japanese picture-book.\n\nOpen such a book for the first time, and you receive a peculiarly\nstartling impression, a sensation of surprise, which causes you to\nthink: \"How strangely, how curiously, these people feel and see\nNature!\" The wonder of it grows upon you, and you ask: \"Can it be\npossible their senses are so utterly different from ours?\" Yes, it is\nquite possible; but look a little more. You do so, and there defines\na third and ultimate idea, confirming the previous two. You feel the\npicture is more true to Nature than any Western painting of the same\nscene would be,--that it produces sensations of Nature no Western\npicture could give. And indeed there are contained within it whole\nranges of discoveries for you to make. Before making them, however, you\nwill ask yourself another riddle, somewhat thus: \"All this is magically\nvivid; the inexplicable color is Nature's own. _But why does the thing\nseem so ghostly?_\"\n\nWell, chiefly because of the absence of shadows. What prevents you from\nmissing them at once is the astounding skill in the recognition and use\nof color-values. The scene, however, is not depicted as if illumined\nfrom one side, but as if throughout suffused with light. Now there are\nreally moments when landscapes do wear this aspect; but our artists\nrarely study them.\n\nBe it nevertheless observed that the old Japanese loved shadows made\nby the moon, and painted the same, because these were weird and did\nnot interfere with color. But they had no admiration for shadows that\nblacken and break the charm of the world under the sun. When their\nnoon-day landscapes are flecked by shadows at all,'tis by very thin\nones only,--mere deepenings of tone, like those fugitive half-glooms\nwhich run before a summer cloud. And the inner as well as the outer\nworld was luminous for them. Psychologically also they saw life without\nshadows.\n\nThen the West burst into their Buddhist peace, and saw their art, and\nbought it up till an Imperial law was issued to preserve the best of\nwhat was left. And when there was nothing more to be bought, and it\nseemed possible that fresh creation might reduce the market price of\nwhat had been bought already, then the West said: \"Oh, come now! you\nmust n't go on drawing and seeing things that way, you know! It is n't\nArt! You, must really learn to see shadows, you know,--and pay me to\nteach you.\"\n\nSo Japan paid to learn how to see shadows in Nature, in life, and in\nthought. And the West taught her that the sole business of the divine\nsun was the making of the cheaper kind of shadows. And the West taught\nher that the higher-priced shadows were the sole product of Western\ncivilization, and bade her admire and adopt. Then Japan wondered at\nthe shadows of machinery and chimneys and telegraph-poles; and at the\nshadows of mines and of factories, and the shadows in the hearts of\nthose who worked there; and at the shadows of houses twenty stories\nhigh, and of hunger begging under them; and shadows of enormous\ncharities that multiplied poverty; and shadows of social reforms that\nmultiplied vice; and shadows of shams and hypocrisies and swallow-tail\ncoats; and the shadow of a foreign God, said to have created mankind\nfor the purpose of an _auto-da-f\u00e9_. Whereat Japan became rather\nserious, and refused to study any more silhouettes. Fortunately for the\nworld, she returned to her first matchless art; and, fortunately for\nherself, returned to her own beautiful faith. But some of the shadows\nstill clung to her life; and she cannot possibly get rid of them. Never\nagain can the world seem to her quite so beautiful as it did before.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nJust beyond the cemetery, in a tiny patch of hedged-in land, a farmer\nand his ox are plowing the black soil with a plow of the Period of the\nGods; and the wife helps the work with a hoe more ancient than even the\nEmpire of Japan. All the three are toiling with a strange earnestness,\nas though goaded without mercy by the knowledge that labor is the price\nof life.\n\nThat man I have often seen before in the colored prints of another\ncentury. I have seen him in kakemono of much more ancient date. I have\nseen him on painted screens of still greater antiquity. Exactly the\nsame! Other fashions beyond counting have passed: the peasant's straw\nhat, straw coat, and sandals of straw remain. He himself is older,\nincomparably older, than his attire. The earth he tills has indeed\nswallowed him up a thousand times a thousand times; but each time\nit has given back to him his life with force renewed. And with this\nperpetual renewal he is content: he asks no more. The mountains change\ntheir shapes; the rivers shift their courses; the stars change their\nplaces in the sky: he changes never. Yet, though unchanging, is he a\nmaker of change. Out of the sum of his toil are wrought the ships of\niron, the roads of steel, the palaces of stone; his are the hands that\npay for the universities and the new learning, for the telegraphs and\nthe electric lights and the repeating-rifles, for the machinery of\nscience and the machinery of commerce and the machinery of war. He is\nthe giver of all; he is given in return--the right to labor forever.\nWherefore he plows the centuries under, to plant new lives of men.\nAnd he will thus toil on till the work of the world shall have been\ndone,--till the time of the end of man.\n\nAnd what will be that end? Will it be ill or well? Or must it for all\nof us remain a mystery insolvable?\n\nOut of the wisdom of the West is answer given: \"Man's evolution is\na progress into perfection and beatitude. The goal of evolution is\nEquilibration. Evils will vanish, one by one, till only that which is\ngood survive. Then shall knowledge obtain its uttermost expansion; then\nshall mind put forth its most wondrous blossoms; then shall cease all\nstruggle and all bitterness of soul, and all the wrongs and all the\nfollies of life. Men shall become as gods, in all save immortality; and\neach existence shall be prolonged through centuries; and all the joys\nof life shall be made common in many a paradise terrestrial, fairer\nthan poet's dream. And there shall be neither riders nor ruled, neither\ngovernments nor laws; for the order of all things shall be resolved by\nlove.\"\n\nBut thereafter?\n\n\"Thereafter? Oh, thereafter by reason of the persistence of Force and\nother cosmic laws, dissolution must come: all integration must yield\nto disintegration. This is the testimony of science.\"\n\nThen all that may have been won, must be lost; all that shall have been\nwrought, utterly undone. Then all that shall have been overcome, must\novercome; all that may have been suffered for good, must be suffered\nagain for no purpose interpretable. Even as out of the Unknown was born\nthe immeasurable pain of the Past, so into the Unknown must expire the\nimmeasurable pain of the Future. What, therefore, the worth of our\nevolution? what, therefore, the meaning of life--of this phantom-flash\nbetween darknesses? Is your evolution only a passing out of absolute\nmystery into universal death? In the hour when that man in the hat of\nstraw shall have crumbled back, for the last mundane time, into the\nclay he tills, of what avail shall have been all the labor of a million\nyears?\n\n\"Nay!\" answers the West. \"There is not any universal death in such a\nsense. Death signifies only change. Thereafter will appear another\nuniversal life. All that assures us of dissolution, not less certainly\nassures us of renewal. The Cosmos, resolved into a nebula, must\nrecondense to form another swarm of worlds. And then, perhaps, your\npeasant may reappear with his patient ox, to till some soil illumined\nby purple or violet suns.\" Yes, but after that resurrection? \"Why, then\nanother evolution, another equilibration, another dissolution. This is\nthe teaching of science. This is the infinite law.\"\n\nBut then that resurrected life, can it be ever new? Will it not rather\nbe infinitely old? For so surely as that which is must eternally be, so\nmust that which will be have eternally been. As there can be no end,\nso there can have been no beginning; and even Time is an illusion,\nand there is nothing new beneath a hundred million suns. Death is\nnot death, not a rest, not an end of pain, but the most appalling of\nmockeries. And out of this infinite whirl of pain you can tell us no\nway of escape. Have you then made us any wiser than that straw-sandaled\npeasant is? He knows all this. He learned, while yet a child, from\nthe priests who taught him to write in the Buddhist temple school,\nsomething of his own innumerable births, and of the apparition and\ndisparition of universes, and of the unity of life. That which you have\nmathematically discovered was known to the East long before the coming\nof the Buddha. How known, who may say? Perhaps there have been memories\nthat survived the wrecks of universes. But be that as it may, your\nannunciation is enormously old: your methods only are new, and serve\nmerely to confirm ancient theories of the Cosmos, and to recomplicate\nthe complications of the everlasting Riddle.\n\nUnto which the West makes answer:--\"Not so! I have discerned the\nrhythm of that eternal action whereby worlds are shapen or dissipated;\nI have divined the Laws of Pain evolving all sentient existence, the\nLaws of Pain evolving thought; I have discovered and proclaimed the\nmeans by which sorrow may be lessened; I have taught the necessity of\neffort, and the highest duty of life. And surely the knowledge of the\nduty of life is the knowledge of largest worth to man.\"\n\nPerhaps. But the knowledge of the necessity and of the duty, as you\nhave proclaimed them, is a knowledge very, very much older than you.\nProbably that peasant knew it fifty thousand years ago, on this planet.\nPossibly also upon other long--vanished planets, in cycles forgotten\nby the gods. If this be the Omega of Western wisdom, then is he of the\nstraw sandals our equal in knowledge, even though he be classed by the\nBuddha among the ignorant ones only,--they who \"people the cemeteries\nagain and again.\"\n\n\"He cannot know,\" makes answer Science; \"at the very most he only\nbelieves, or thinks that he believes. Not even his wisest priests can\nprove. I alone have proven; I alone have given proof absolute. And\nI have proved for ethical renovation, though accused of proving for\ndestruction. I have defined the uttermost impassable limit of human\nknowledge; but I have also established for all time the immovable\nfoundations of that highest doubt which is wholesome, since it is the\nsubstance of hope. I have shown that even the least of human thoughts,\nof human acts, may have perpetual record,--making self-registration\nthrough tremulosities invisible that pass to the eternities. And I\nhave fixed the basis of a new morality upon everlasting truth, even\nthough I may have left of ancient creeds only their empty shell.\"\n\nCreeds of the West--yes! But not of the creed of this older East.\nNot yet have you even measured it. What matter that this peasant\ncannot prove, since thus much of his belief is that which you have\nproved for all of us? And he holds still another belief that reaches\nbeyond yours. He too has been taught that acts and thoughts outlive\nthe lives of men. But he has been taught more than this. He has been\ntaught that the thoughts and acts of each being, projected beyond the\nindividual existence, shape other lives unborn; he has been taught to\ncontrol his most secret wishes, because of their immeasurable inherent\npotentialities. And he has been taught all this in words as plain\nand thoughts as simply woven as the straw of his rain-coat. What if\nhe cannot prove his premises? you have proved them, for him and for\nthe world. He has only a theory of the future, indeed; but you have\nfurnished irrefutable evidence that it is not founded upon dreams. And\nsince all your past labors have only served to confirm a few of the\nbeliefs stored up in his simple mind, is it any folly to presume that\nyour future labors also may serve to prove the truth of other beliefs\nof his, which you have not yet taken the trouble to examine?\n\n\"For instance, that earthquakes are caused by a big fish?\"\n\nDo not sneer! Our Western notions about such things were just as crude\nonly a few generations back. No! I mean the ancient teaching that acts\nand thoughts are not merely the incidents of life, but its creators.\nEven as it has been written, \"_All that we are is the result of what\nwe have thought: it is founded on our thoughts; it is made up of our\nthoughts._\"\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nAnd there comes to me the memory of a queer story.\n\nThe common faith of the common people, that the misfortunes of the\npresent are results of the follies committed in a former state of\nexistence, and that the errors of this life will influence the future\nbirth, is curiously reinforced by various superstitions probably much\nolder than Buddhism, but not at variance with its faultless doctrine of\nconduct. Among these, perhaps the most remarkable is the belief that\neven our most secret thoughts of evil may have ghostly consequences\nupon _other people's lives._\n\nThe house now occupied by one of my friends used to be haunted. You\ncould never imagine it to have been haunted, because it is unusually\nluminous, extremely pretty, and comparatively new. It has no dark nooks\nor corners. It is surrounded with a large bright garden,--a Ky\u016bsh\u016b\nlandscape garden without any big trees for ghosts to hide behind. Yet\nhaunted it was, and in broad day.\n\nFirst you must learn that in this Orient there are two sorts of\nhaunters: the Shi-ry\u014d and the Iki-ry\u014d. The Shi-ry\u014d are merely the\nghosts of the dead; and here, as in most lands, they follow their\nancient habit of coming at night only. But the Iki-ry\u014d, which are the\nghosts of the living, may come at all hours; and they are much more to\nbe feared, because they have power to kill.\n\nNow the house of which I speak was haunted by an Iki-ry\u014d.\n\nThe man who built it was an official, wealthy and esteemed. He designed\nit as a home for his old age; and when it was finished he filled it\nwith beautiful things, and hung tinkling wind bells along its eaves.\nArtists of skill painted the naked precious wood of its panels with\nblossoming sprays of cherry and plum tree, and figures of gold-eyed\nfalcons poised on crests of pine, and slim fawns feeding under maple\nshadows, and wild ducks in snow, and herons flying, and iris flowers\nblooming, and long-armed monkeys clutching at the face of the moon in\nwater: all the symbols of the seasons and of good fortune.\n\nFortunate the owner was; yet he knew one sorrow--he had no heir.\nTherefore, with his wife's consent, and according to antique custom, he\ntook a strange woman into his home that she might give him a child,--a\nyoung woman from the country, to whom large promises were made. When\nshe had borne him a son, she was sent away; and a nurse was hired for\nthe boy, that he might not regret his real mother. All this had been\nagreed to beforehand; and there were ancient usages to justify it. But\nall the promises made to the mother of the boy had not been fulfilled\nwhen she was sent away.\n\nAnd after a little time the rich man fell sick; and he grew worse\nthereafter day by day; and his people said there was an Iki-ry\u014d in\nthe house. Skilled physicians did all they could for him; but he only\nbecame weaker and weaker; and the physicians at last confessed they had\nno more hope. And the wife made offerings at the Ujigami, and prayed\nto the Gods; but the Gods gave answer: \"He must die unless he obtain\nforgiveness from one whom he wronged, and undo the wrong by making just\namend. For there is an Iki-ry\u014d in your house.\"\n\nThen the sick man remembered, and was conscience-smitten, and sent\nout servants to bring the woman back to his home. But she was\ngone,--somewhere lost among the forty millions of the Empire. And the\nsickness ever grew worse; and search was made in vain; and the weeks\npassed. At last there came to the gate a peasant who said that he knew\nthe place to which the woman had gone, and that he would journey to\nfind her if supplied with means of travel. But the sick man, hearing,\ncried out: \"No! she would never forgive me in her heart, because she\ncould not. It is too late!\" And he died.\n\nAfter which the widow and the relatives and the little boy abandoned\nthe new house; and strangers entered thereinto.\n\nCuriously enough, the people spoke harshly concerning the mother of the\nboy--holding her to blame for the haunting.\n\nI thought it very strange at first, not because I had formed any\npositive judgment as to the rights and wrongs of the case. Indeed I\ncould not form such a judgment; for I could not learn the full details\nof the story. I thought the criticism of the people very strange,\nnotwithstanding.\n\nWhy? Simply because there is nothing voluntary about the sending of an\nIki-ry\u014d. It is not witchcraft at all. The Iki-ry\u014d goes forth without\nthe knowledge of the person whose emanation it is. (There is a kind of\nwitchcraft which is believed to send Things,--but not Iki-ry\u014d.) You\nwill now understand why I thought the condemnation of the young woman\nvery strange.\n\nBut you could scarcely guess the solution of the problem. It is a\nreligious one, involving conceptions totally unknown to the West. She\nfrom whom the Iki-ry\u014d proceeded was never blamed by the people as\na witch. They never suggested that it might have been created with\nher knowledge. They even sympathized with what they deemed to be her\njust plaint. They blamed her only for having been too angry,--for\nnot sufficiently controlling her unspoken resentment,--because she\nshould have known _that anger, secretly indulged, can have ghostly\nconsequences._\n\nI ask nobody to take for granted the possibility of the Iki-ry\u014d, except\nas a strong form of conscience. But as an influence upon conduct, the\nbelief certainly has value. Besides, it is suggestive. Who is really\nable to assure us that secret evil desires, pent-up resentments, masked\nhates, do not exert any force outside of the will that conceives and\nnurses them? May there not be a deeper meaning than Western ethics\nrecognize in those words of the Buddha,--\"_Hatred ceases not by hatred\nat any time; hatred ceases by love: this is an old rule_\"? It was very\nold then, even in his day. In ours it has been said, \"Whensoever a\nwrong is done you, and you do not resent it, then so much evil dies in\nthe world.\" But does it? Are we quite sure that not to resent it is\nenough? Can the motive tendency set loose in the mind by the sense of\na wrong be nullified simply by non-action on the part of the wronged?\nCan any force die? The forces we know may be transformed only. So much\nalso may be true of the forces we do not know; and of these are Life,\nSensation, Will,--all that makes up the infinite mystery called \"I.\"\n\n\n\nV\n\n\n\"The duty of Science,\" answers Science, \"is to systematize human\nexperience, not to theorize about ghosts. And the judgment of the time,\neven in Japan, sustains this position taken by Science. What is now\nbeing taught below there,--my doctrines, or the doctrines of the Man in\nthe Straw Sandals?\"\n\nThen the Stone Buddha and I look down upon the college together; and\nas we gaze, the smile of the Buddha--perhaps because of a change in\nthe light--seems to me to have changed its expression, to have become\nan ironical smile. Nevertheless he is contemplating the fortress of\na more than formidable enemy. In all that teaching of four hundred\nyouths by thirty-three teachers, there is no teaching of faith, but\nonly teaching of fact,--only teaching of the definite results of the\nsystematization of human experience. And I am absolutely certain that\nif I were to question, concerning the things of the Buddha, any of\nthose thirty-three instructors (saving one dear old man of seventy,\nthe Professor of Chinese), I should receive no reply. For they belong\nunto the new generation, holding that such topics are fit for the\nconsideration of Men-in-Straw-Rain--coats only, and that in this\ntwenty-sixth year of Meiji, the scholar should occupy himself only\nwith the results of the systematization of human experience. Yet the\nsystematization of human experience in no wise enlightens us as to the\nWhence, the Whither, or, worst of all!--the Why.\n\n\"_The Laws of Existence which proceed from a cause,--the cause of these\nhath the Buddha explained, as also the destruction of the same. Even of\nsuch truths is the great Sramana the teacher._\"\n\nAnd I ask myself, Must the teaching of Science in this land efface at\nlast the memory of the teaching of the Buddha?\n\n\"As for that,\" makes answer Science, \"the test of the right of a\nfaith to live must be sought in its power to accept and to utilize\nmy revelations. Science neither affirms what it cannot prove, nor\ndenies that which it cannot rationally disprove. Theorizing about the\nUnknowable, it recognizes and pities as a necessity of the human mind.\nYou and the Man-in-the-Straw-Rain-coat may harmlessly continue to\ntheorize for such time as your theories advance in lines parallel with\nmy facts, but no longer.\"\n\nAnd seeking inspiration from the deep irony of Buddha's smile, I\ntheorize in parallel lines.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nThe whole tendency of modern knowledge, the whole tendency of\nscientific teaching, is toward the ultimate conviction that the\nUnknowable, even as the Brahma of ancient Indian thought, is\ninaccessible to prayer. Not a few of us can feel that Western Faith\nmust finally pass away forever, leaving us to our own resources when\nour mental manhood shall have been attained, even as the fondest of\nmothers must leave her children at last. In that far day her work will\nall have been done; she will have fully developed our recognition\nof certain eternal spiritual laws; she will have fully ripened our\nprofounder human sympathies; she will have fully prepared us by her\nparables and fairy tales, by her gentler falsehoods, for the terrible\ntruth of existence;--prepared us for the knowledge that there is no\ndivine love save the love of man for man; that we have no All-Father,\nno Saviour, no angel guardians; that we have no possible refuge but in\nourselves.\n\nYet even in that strange day we shall only have stumbled to the\nthreshold of the revelation given by the Buddha so many ages ago:\n\"Be ye lamps unto yourselves; be ye a refuge unto yourselves. Betake\nyourselves to no other refuge. The Buddhas are only teachers. Hold ye\nfast to the truth as to a lamp. Hold fast as a refuge to the truth.\nLook not for refuge to any beside yourselves.\"\n\nDoes the utterance shock? Yet the prospect of such a void awakening\nfrom our long fair dream of celestial aid and celestial love would\nnever be the darkest prospect possible for man. There is a darker,\nalso foreshadowed by Eastern thought. Science may hold in reserve\nfor us discoveries infinitely more appalling than the realization\nof Richter's dream,--the dream of the dead children seeking vainly\ntheir father Jesus. In the negation of the materialist even, there\nwas a faith of consolation--self-assurance of individual cessation,\nof oblivion eternal. But for the existing thinker there is no such\nfaith. It may remain for us to learn, after having vanquished all\ndifficulties possible to meet upon this tiny sphere, that there await\nus obstacles to overcome beyond it,--obstacles vaster than any system\nof worlds,--obstacles weightier than the whole inconceivable Cosmos\nwith its centuries of millions of systems; that our task is only\nbeginning; and that there will never be given to us even the ghost of\nany help, save the help of unutterable and unthinkable Time. We may\nhave to learn that the infinite whirl of death and birth, out of which\nwe cannot escape, is of our own creation, of our own seeking--that the\nforces integrating worlds are the errors of the Past;--that the eternal\nsorrow is but the eternal hunger of insatiable desire;--and that the\nburnt-out suns are rekindled only by the inextinguishable passions of\nvanished lives.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nJIUJUTSU\n\n\nMan at his birth is supple and weak; at his death, firm and strong. So\nis it with all things.... Firmness and strength are the concomitants of\ndeath; softness and weakness, the concomitants of life. Hence he who\nrelies on his own strength shall not conquer. Tao-Te-King.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThere is one building in the grounds of the Government College quite\ndifferent in structure from the other edifices. Except that it is\nfurnished with horizontally sliding glass windows instead of paper\nones, it might be called a purely Japanese building. It is long, broad,\nand of one story; and it contains but a single huge room, of which\nthe elevated floor is thickly cushioned with one hundred mats. It has\na Japanese name, too,--Zuih\u014dkwan,--signifying \"The Hall of Our Holy\nCountry;\" and the Chinese characters which form that name were painted\nupon the small tablet above its entrance by the hand of a Prince of\nthe Imperial blood. Within there is no furniture; nothing but another\ntablet and two pictures hanging upon the wall. One of the pictures\nrepresents the famous \"White-Tiger Band\" of seventeen brave boys who\nvoluntarily sought death for loyalty's sake in the civil war. The other\nis a portrait in oil of the aged and much beloved Professor of Chinese,\nAkizuki of Aidzu, a noted warrior in his youth, when it required much\nmore to make a soldier and a gentleman than it does to-day. And the\ntablet bears Chinese characters written by the hand of Count Katsu,\nwhich signify: \"Profound knowledge is the best of possessions.\"\n\nBut what is the knowledge taught in this huge unfurnished apartment? It\nis something called jiujutsu. And what is jiujutsu?\n\nHere I must premise that I know practically nothing of jiujutsu. One\nmust begin to study it in early youth, and must continue the study a\nvery long time in order to learn it even tolerably well. To become an\nexpert requires seven years of constant practice, even presupposing\nnatural aptitudes of an uncommon order. I can give no detailed account\nof jiujutsu, but merely venture some general remarks about its\nprinciple.\n\nJiujutsu is the old samurai art of fighting without weapons. To the\nuninitiated it looks like wrestling. Should you happen to enter the\nZuih\u014dkwan while jiujutsu is being practiced, you would see a crowd\nof students watching ten or twelve lithe young comrades, barefooted\nand barelimbed, throwing each other about on the matting. The dead\nsilence might seem to you very strange. No word is spoken, no sign of\napprobation or of amusement is given, no face even smiles. Absolute\nimpassiveness is rigidly exacted by the rules of the school of\njiujutsu. But probably only this impassibility of all, this hush of\nnumbers, would impress you as remarkable.\n\nA professional wrestler would observe more. He would see that those'\nyoung men are very cautious about putting forth their strength, and\nthat the grips, holds, and flings are both peculiar and risky. In spite\nof the care exercised, he would judge the whole performance to be\ndangerous play, and would be tempted, perhaps, to advise the adoption\nof Western \"scientific\" rules.\n\nThe real thing, however,--not the play,--is much more dangerous than\na Western wrestler could guess at sight. The teacher there, slender\nand light as he seems, could probably disable an ordinary wrestler\nin two minutes. Jiujutsu is not an art of display at all: it is not\na training for that sort of skill exhibited to public audiences; it\nis an art of self-defense in the most exact sense of the term; it is\nan art of war. The master of that art is able, in one moment, to put\nan untrained antagonist completely _hors de combat_. By some terrible\nlegerdemain he suddenly dislocates a shoulder, unhinges a joint, bursts\na tendon, or snaps a bone,--without any apparent effort. He is much\nmore than an athlete: he is an anatomist. And he knows also touches\nthat kill--as by lightning. But this fatal knowledge he is under oath\nnever to communicate except under such conditions as would render its\nabuse almost impossible. Tradition exacts that it be given only to men\nof perfect self-command and of unimpeachable moral character.\n\nThe fact, however, to which I want to call attention is that the master\nof jiujutsu never relies upon his own strength. He scarcely uses his\nown strength in the greatest emergency. Then what does he use? Simply\nthe strength of his antagonist. The force of the enemy is the only\nmeans by which that enemy is overcome. The art of jiujutsu teaches you\nto rely for victory solely upon the strength of your opponent; and\nthe greater his strength, the worse for him and the better for you. I\nremember that I was not a little astonished when one of the greatest\nteachers of jiujutsu[1] told me that he found it extremely difficult to\nteach a certain very strong pupil, whom I had innocently imagined to\nbe the best in the class. On asking why, I was answered: \"Because he\nrelies upon his enormous muscular strength, and uses it.\" The very name\n\"jiujutsu\" means _to conquer by yielding._\n\nI fear I cannot explain at all; I can only suggest. Every one knows\nwhat a \"counter\" in boxing means. I cannot use it for an exact simile,\nbecause the boxer who counters opposes his whole force to the impetus\nof the other; while a jiujutsu expert does precisely the contrary.\nStill there remains this resemblance between a counter in boxing and\na yielding in jiujutsu,--that the suffering is in both cases due to\nthe uncontrollable forward impetus of the man who receives it. I\nmay venture then to say, loosely, that in jiujutsu there is a sort\nof counter for every twist, wrench, pull, push, or bend: only, the\njiujutsu expert does not oppose such movements at all. No: he yields\nto them. But he does much more than yield to them. He aids them with a\nwicked sleight that causes the assailant to put out his own shoulder,\nto fracture his own arm, or, in a desperate case, even to break his own\nneck or back.\n\n\n[1] Kano Jigoro. Mr. Kano contributed some years ago to the\n_Transactions of the Asiatic Society_ a very interesting paper on the\nhistory of Jiujutsu.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nWith even this vaguest of explanations, you will already have been able\nto perceive that the real wonder of jiujutsu is not in the highest\npossible skill of its best professor, but in the uniquely Oriental idea\nwhich the whole art expresses. What Western brain could have elaborated\nthis strange teaching,--never to oppose force to force, but only to\ndirect and utilize the power of attack; to overthrow the enemy solely\nby his own strength,--to vanquish him solely by his own effort? Surely\nnone! The Occidental mind appears to work in straight lines; the\nOriental, in wonderful curves and circles. Yet how fine a symbolism of\nIntelligence as a means to foil brute force! Much more than a science\nof defense is this jiujutsu: it is a philosophical system; it is an\neconomical system; it is an ethical system (indeed, I had forgotten to\nsay that a very large part of jiujutsu-training is purely moral); and\nit is, above all, the expression of a racial genius as yet but faintly\nperceived by those Powers who dream of further aggrandizement in the\nEast.\n\nTwenty-five years ago,--and even more recently,---foreigners might\nhave predicted, with every appearance of reason, that Japan would\nadopt not only the dress, but the manners of the Occident; not only\nour means of rapid transit and communication, but also our principles\nof architecture; not only our industries and our applied science, but\nlikewise our metaphysics and our dogmas. Some really believed that\nthe country would soon be thrown open to foreign settlement; that\nWestern capital would be tempted by extraordinary privileges to aid in\nthe development of various resources; and even that the nation would\neventually proclaim, through Imperial Edict, its sudden conversion to\nwhat we call Christianity. But such beliefs were due to an unavoidable\nbut absolute ignorance of the character of the race,--of its deeper\ncapacities, of its foresight, of its immemorial spirit of independence.\nThat Japan might only be practicing jiujutsu, nobody supposed for\na moment: indeed at that time nobody in the West had ever heard of\njiujutsu.\n\nAnd, nevertheless, jiujutsu it all was. Japan adopted a military\nsystem founded upon the best experience of France and Germany, with\nthe result that she can call into the field a disciplined force of\n250,000 men, supported by a formidable artillery. She created a strong\nnavy, comprising some of the finest cruisers in the world;--modeling\nher naval system upon the best English and French teaching. She made\nherself dockyards under French direction, and built or bought steamers\nto carry her products to Korea, China, Manilla, Mexico, India, and\nthe tropics of the Pacific. She constructed, both for military and\ncommercial purposes, nearly two thousand miles of railroad. With\nAmerican and English help she established the cheapest and perhaps the\nmost efficient telegraph and postal service in existence. She built\nlighthouses to such excellent purpose that her coast is said to be the\nbest lighted in either hemisphere; and she put into operation a signal\nservice not inferior to that of the United States. From America she\nobtained also a telephone system, and the best methods of electric\nlighting. She modeled her public-school system upon a thorough study\nof the best results obtained in Germany, France, and America, but\nregulated it so as to harmonize perfectly with her own institutions.\nShe founded a police system upon a French model, but shaped it to\nabsolute conformity with her own particular social requirements.\nAt first she imported machinery for her mines, her mills, her\ngun-factories, her railways, and hired numbers of foreign experts: she\nis now dismissing all her teachers. But what she has done and is doing\nwould require volumes even to mention. Suffice to say, in conclusion,\nthat she has selected and adopted the best of everything represented by\nour industries, by our applied sciences, by our economical, financial,\nand legal experience; availing herself in every case of the highest\nresults only, and invariably shaping her acquisitions to meet her own\nneeds.\n\nNow in all this she has adopted nothing for a merely imitative reason.\nOn the contrary, she has approved and taken only what can help her\nto increase her strength. She has made herself able to dispense with\nnearly all foreign technical instruction; and she has kept firmly in\nher own hands, by the shrewdest legislation, all of her own resources.\nBut she has _not_ adopted Western dress, Western habits of life,\nWestern architecture, or Western religion; since the introduction\nof any of these, especially the last, would have diminished instead\nof augmenting her force. Despite her railroad and steamship lines,\nher telegraphs and telephones, her postal service and her express\ncompanies, her steel artillery and magazine-rifles, her universities\nand technical schools, she remains just as Oriental to-day as she\nwas a thousand years ago. She has been able to remain herself, and to\nprofit to the utmost possible limit by the strength of the enemy. She\nhas been, and still is, defending herself by the most admirable system\nof intellectual self-defense ever heard of,--by a marvelous national\njiujutsu.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nBefore me lies an album more than thirty years old. It is filled\nwith photographs taken at the time when Japan was entering upon her\nexperiments with foreign dress and with foreign institutions. All are\nphotographs of samurai or daimy\u00f4; and many possess historical value as\nreflections of the earliest effects of foreign influence upon native\nfashions.\n\nNaturally the military class were the earliest subjects of the\nnew influence; and they seem to have attempted several curious\ncompromises between the Western and the Eastern costume. More than\na dozen photographs represent feudal leaders surrounded by their\nretainers,--all in a peculiar garb of their own composition. They\nhave frock coats, waistcoats, and trousers of foreign style and\nmaterial; but under the coat the long silk girdle or obi is still worn,\nsimply for the purpose of holding the swords. (For the samurai were\nnever in a literal sense _tra\u00eeneurs de sabre_; and their formidable\nbut exquisitely finished weapons were never made to be slung at the\nside,--besides being in most cases much too long to be carried in the\nWestern way.) The cloth of the suits is broadcloth; but the samurai\nwill not surrender his mon, or crest, and tries to adapt it to his\nnovel attire by all manner of devices. One has faced the lappets of\nhis coat with white silk; and his family device is either dyed or\nembroidered upon the silk six times--three mon to each lappet. All the\nmen, or nearly all, wear European watches with showy guards; one is\nexamining his timepiece curiously, probably a very recent acquisition.\nAll wear Western shoes, too,--shoes with elastic sides. But none seem\nto have yet adopted the utterly abominable European hat--destined,\nunfortunately, to become popular at a later day. They still retain the\njingasa,--a strong wooden headpiece, heavily lacquered in scarlet\nand gold. And the jingasa and the silken girdle remain the only\nsatisfactory parts of their astounding uniform. The trousers and coats\nare ill fitting; the shoes are inflicting slow tortures; there is an\nindescribably constrained, slouchy, shabby look common to all thus\nattired. They have not only ceased to feel free: they are conscious of\nnot looking their best. The incongruities are not grotesque enough to\nbe amusing; they are merely ugly and painful. What foreigner in that\ntime could have persuaded himself that the Japanese were not about to\nlose forever their beautiful taste in dress?\n\nOther photographs show still more curious results of foreign\ninfluences. Here are samurai who refuse to adopt the Western fashions,\nbut who have compromised with the new mania by having their haori\nand hakama made of the heaviest and costliest English broadcloth,--a\nmaterial utterly unsuited for such use both because of its weight and\nits inelasticity. Already you can see that creases have been formed\nwhich no hot iron can ever smooth away.\n\nIt is certainly an \u00e6sthetic relief to turn from these portraits to\nthose of a few conservatives who paid no attention to the mania at\nall, and clung to their native warrior garb to the very last. Here are\nnagabakama worn by horsemen,--and jin-baori, or war-coats, superbly\nembroidered,--and kamishimo,--and shirts of mail,--and full suits of\narmor. Here also are various forms of kaburi,--the strange but imposing\nhead-dresses anciently worn on state occasions by princes and by\nsamurai of high rank,--curious cobwebby structures, of some light black\nmaterial. In all this there is dignity, beauty, or the terrible grace\nof war.\n\nBut everything is totally eclipsed by the last photograph of the\ncollection,--a handsome youth with the sinister, splendid gaze of a\nfalcon,--Matsudaira Buzen-no-Kami, in full magnificence of feudal war\ncostume. One hand bears the tasseled signal-wand of a leader of armies;\nthe other rests on the marvelous hilt of his sword. His helmet is a\nblazing miracle; the steel upon his breast and shoulders was wrought\nby armorers whose names are famed in all the museums of the West. The\ncords of his war-coat are golden; and a wondrous garment of heavy\nsilk--all embroidered with billowings and dragonings of gold--flows\nfrom his mailed waist to his feet, like a robe of fire. And this is no\ndream;--this was!--I am gazing at a solar record of one real figure\nof medi\u00e6val life! How the man flames in his steel and silk and gold,\nlike some splendid iridescent beetle,--but a War beetle, all horns and\nmandibles and menace despite its dazzlings of jewel-color!\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nFrom the princely magnificence of feudal costume as worn by\nMatsudaira--Buzen-no-Kami to the nondescript garments of the transition\nperiod, how vast a fall! Certainly the native dress and the native\ntaste in dress might well have seemed doomed to pass away forever.\nAnd when even the Imperial Court had temporarily adopted Parisian\nmodes, few foreigners could have doubted that the whole nation was\nabout to change garb. As a fact, there then began in the chief cities\nthat passing mania for Western fashions which was reflected in the\nillustrated journals of Europe, and which created for a while the\nimpression that picturesque Japan had become transformed into a land\nof \"loud\" tweeds, chimney-pot hats, and swallow-tail coats. But in\nthe capital itself to-day, among a thousand passers-by, you may see\nscarcely one in Western dress, excepting, of course, the uniformed\nsoldiers, students, and police. The former mania really represented\na national experiment; and the results of that experiment were not\naccording to Western expectation. Japan has adopted various styles of\nWestern uniform,[1] with some excellent modifications, for her army,\nher navy, and her police, simply because such attire is the best\npossible for such callings. Foreign civil costume has been adopted by\nthe Japanese official world, but only to be worn during office-hours\nin buildings of Western construction furnished with modern desks\nand chairs.[2] At home even the general, the admiral, the judge,\nthe police-inspector, resume the national garb. And, finally, both\nteachers and students in all but the primary schools are expected to\nwear uniform, as the educational training is partly military. This\nobligation, once stringent, has, however, been considerably relaxed; in\nmany schools the uniform being now obligatory only during drill-time\nand upon certain ceremonial occasions. In all Ky\u016bsh\u016b schools, except\nthe Normal, the students are free to wear their robes, straw sandals,\nand enormous straw hats, when not on parade. But everywhere after\nclass-hours both teachers and students return at home to their kimono\nand their girdles of white crape silk.\n\nIn brief, then, Japan has fairly resumed her national dress; and it\nis to be hoped that she will never again abandon it. Not only is\nit the sole attire perfectly adapted to her domestic habits; it is\nalso, perhaps, the most dignified, the most comfortable, and the most\nhealthy in the world. In some respects, indeed, the native fashions\nhave changed during the era of Meiji much more than in previous eras;\nbut this was largely due to the abolition of the military caste. As to\nforms, the change has been slight; as to color, it has been great. The\nfine taste of the race still appears in the beautiful tints and colors\nand designs of those silken or cotton textures woven for apparel. But\nthe tints are paler, the colors are darker, than those worn by the\nlast generation;--the whole national costume, in all its varieties,\nnot excepting even the bright attire of children and of young girls,\nis much more sober of tone than in feudal days. All the wondrous old\nrobes of dazzling colors have vanished from public life: you can study\nthem now only in the theatres, or in those marvelous picture-books\nreflecting the fantastic and beautiful visions of the Japanese classic\ndrama, which preserves the Past.\n\n\n[1] What seems to be the only serious mistake Japan has made in this\nregard is the adoption of leather shoes for her infantry. The fine feet\nof young men accustomed to the freedom of sandals, and ignorant of\nthe existence of what we call corns and bunions, are cruelly tortured\nby this unnatural footgear. On long marches they are allowed to wear\nsandals, however; and a change in footgear may yet be made. With\nsandals, even a Japanese boy can easily walk his thirty miles a day,\nalmost unfatigued.\n\n[2] A highly educated Japanese actually observed to a friend of mine:\n\"The truth is that we dislike Western dress. We have been temporarily\nadopting it only as certain animals take particular colors in\nparticular seasons,--_for protective reasons_\".\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nIndeed, to give up the native dress would involve the costly necessity\nof changing nearly all the native habits of life. Western costume is\ntotally unsuited to a Japanese interior; and would render the national\nsquatting, or kneeling, posture extremely painful or difficult for\nthe wearer. The adoption of Western dress would thus necessitate the\nadoption of Western domestic habits: the introduction into home of\nchairs for resting, tables for eating, stoves or fireplaces for warmth\n(since the warmth of the native robes alone renders these Western\ncomforts at present unnecessary), carpets for floors, glass for\nwindows,--in short, a host of luxuries which the people have always\nbeen well able to do without. There is no furniture (according to the\nEuropean sense of the term) in a Japanese home,--no beds, tables, or\nchairs. There may be one small book-case, or rather \"book-box;\" and\nthere are nearly always a pair of chests of drawers in some recess\nhidden by sliding paper screens; but such articles are quite unlike any\nWestern furniture. As a rule, you will see nothing in a Japanese room\nexcept a small brazier of bronze or porcelain, for smoking purposes; a\nkneeling-mat, or cushion, according to season; and in the alcove only,\na picture or a flower vase. For thousands of years Japanese life has\nbeen on the floor. Soft as a hair mattress and always immaculately\nclean, the floor is at once the couch, the dining-table, and most often\nthe writing-table; although there exist tiny pretty writing-tables\nabout one foot high. And the vast economy of such habits of life\nrenders it highly improbable they will ever be abandoned, especially\nwhile the pressure of population and the struggle of life continue to\nincrease. It should also be remembered that there exists no precedent\nof a highly civilized people--such as were the Japanese before the\nWestern aggression upon them--abandoning ancestral habits out of a\nmere spirit of imitation. Those who imagine the Japanese to be merely\nimitative also imagine them to be savages. As a fact, they are not\nimitative at all: they are assimilative and adoptive only, and that to\nthe degree of genius.\n\nIt is probable that careful study of Western experience with\nfire-proof building-material will eventually result in some changes in\nJapanese municipal architecture. Already, in some quarters of T\u014dky\u014d,\nthere are streets of brick houses. But these brick dwellings are matted\nin the ancient manner; and their tenants follow the domestic habits\nof their ancestors. The future architecture of brick or stone is not\nlikely to prove a mere copy of Western construction; it is almost\ncertain to develop new and purely Oriental features of rare interest.\n\nThose who believe the Japanese dominated by some blind admiration for\neverything Occidental might certainly expect at the open ports to find\nless of anything purely Japanese (except curios) than in the interior:\nless of Japanese architecture; less of national dress, manners, and\ncustoms; less of native religion, and shrines, and temples. But exactly\nthe reverse is the fact. Foreign buildings there are, but, as a general\nrule, in the foreign concessions only, and for the use of foreigners.\nThe usual exceptions are a fire-proof post-office, a custom-house, and\nperhaps a few breweries and cotton-mills. But not only is Japanese\narchitecture excellently represented at all the foreign ports: it is\nbetter represented there than in almost any city of the interior.\nThe edifices heighten, broaden, expand; but they remain even more\nOriental than elsewhere. At Kobe, at Nagasaki, at \u014csaka, at Yokohama,\neverything that is essentially and solely Japanese (except moral\ncharacter) accentuates as if in defiance of foreign influence. Whoever\nhas looked over Kobe from some lofty roof or balcony will have seen\nperhaps the best possible example of what I mean,--the height, the\nqueerness, the charm of a Japanese port in the nineteenth century,\nthe blue-gray sea of tile-slopes ridged and banded with white, the\ncedar world of gables and galleries and architectural conceits and\nwhimsicalities indescribable. And nowhere outside of the Sacred City of\nKy\u014dto, can you witness a native religious festival to better advantage\nthan in the open ports; while the multitude of shrines, of temples, of\ntorii, of all the sights and symbols of Shint\u014d and of Buddhism, are\nscarcely paralleled in any city of the interior except Nikko, and the\nancient capitals of Nara and Saiky\u014d. No! the more one studies the\ncharacteristics of the open ports, the more one feels that the genius\nof the race will never voluntarily yield to Western influence, beyond\nthe rules of jiujutsu.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nThe expectation that Japan would speedily announce to the world\nher adoption of Christianity was not so unreasonable as some other\nexpectations of former days. Yet it might well seem to have been more\nso. There were no precedents upon which to build so large a hope. No\nOriental race has ever yet been converted to Christianity. Even under\nBritish rule, the wonderful labors of the Catholic propaganda in\nIndia have been brought to a standstill. In China, after centuries of\nmissions, the very name of Christianity is detested,--and not without\ncause, since no small number of aggressions upon China have been\nmade in the name of Western religion. Nearer home, we have made even\nless progress in our efforts to convert Oriental races. There is not\nthe ghost of a hope for the conversion of the Turks, the Arabs, the\nMoors, or of any Islamic people; and the memory of the Society for the\nConversion of the Jews only serves to create a smile. But, even leaving\nthe Oriental races out of the question, we have no conversions whatever\nto boast of. Never within modern history has Christendom been able to\nforce the acceptance of its dogmas upon a people able to maintain any\nhope of national existence. The nominal[1] success of missions among\na few savage tribes, or the vanishing Maori races, only proves the\nrule; and unless we accept the rather sinister declaration of Napoleon\nthat missionaries may have great political usefulness, it is not easy\nto escape the conclusion that the whole work of the foreign mission\nsocieties has been little more than a vast expenditure of energy, time,\nand money, to no real purpose.\n\nIn this last decade of the nineteenth century, at all events, the\nreason should be obvious. A religion means much more than mere dogma\nabout the supernatural: it is the synthesis of the whole ethical\nexperience of a race, the earliest foundation, in many cases, of its\nwiser laws, and the record, as well as the result, of its social\nevolution. It is thus essentially a part of the race-life, and\ncannot possibly be replaced in any natural manner by the ethical and\nsocial experience of a totally alien people,--that is to say, by a\ntotally alien religion. And no nation in a healthy social state can\nvoluntarily abandon the faith so profoundly identified with its ethical\nlife. A nation may reshape its dogmas: it may willingly even accept\nanother faith; but it will not voluntarily cast away its older belief,\neven when the latter has lost all ethical or social usefulness. When\nChina accepted Buddhism, she gave up neither the moral codes of her\nancient sages, nor her primitive ancestor-worship; when Japan accepted\nBuddhism, she did not forsake the Way of the Gods. Parallel examples\nare yielded by the history of the religions of antique Europe. Only\nreligions the most tolerant can be voluntarily accepted by races\ntotally alien to those that evolved them; and even then only as an\naddition to what they already possess, never as a substitute for it.\nWherefore the great success of the ancient Buddhist missions. Buddhism\nwas an absorbing but never a supplanting power: it incorporated alien\nfaiths into its colossal system, and gave them new interpretation.\nBut the religion of Islam and the religion of Christianity--Western\nChristianity--have always been religions essentially intolerant,\nincorporating nothing and zealous to supplant everything. To introduce\nChristianity, especially into an Oriental country, necessitates the\ndestruction not only of the native faith but of the native social\nsystems as well. Now the lesson of history is that such wholesale\ndestruction, can be accomplished only by force, and, in the case of\na highly complex society, only by the most brutal force. And force,\nthe principal instrument of Christian propagandism in the past, is\nstill the force behind our missions. Only we have, or affect to have,\nsubstituted money power and menace for the franker edge of the sword;\noccasionally fulfilling the menace for commercial reasons in proof\nof our Christian professions. We force missionaries upon China, for\nexample, under treaty clauses extorted by war; and pledge ourselves\nto support them with gunboats, and to exact enormous indemnities for\nthe lives of such as get themselves killed. So China pays blood-money\nat regular intervals, and is learning more and more each year to\nunderstand the value of what we call Christianity. And the saying of\nEmerson, that by some a truth can never be comprehended until its\nlight happens to fall upon a fact, has been recently illustrated by\nsome honest protests against the immorality of missionary aggressions\nin China,--protests which would never have been listened to before it\nwas discovered that the mission troubles were likely to react against\npurely commercial interests.\n\nBut in spite of the foregoing considerations there was really at one\ntime fair reason for believing the nominal conversion of Japan quite\npossible. Men could not forget that after the Japanese Government had\nbeen forced by political necessity to extirpate the wonderful Jesuit\nmissions of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the very word\nChristian had become a term of hatred and scorn.[2]\n\nBut the world had changed since then; Christianity had changed; and\nmore than thirty different Christian sects were ready to compete for\nthe honor of converting Japan. Out of so large a variety of dogmas,\nrepresenting the principal shades both of orthodoxy and of heterodoxy,\nJapan might certainly be able to choose a form of Christianity to her\nown taste! And the conditions of the country were more propitious than\never before for the introduction of some Western religion. The whole\nsocial system had been disorganized to the very core; Buddhism had been\ndisestablished, and was tottering under the blow; Shint\u014d appeared to be\nincapable of resistance; the great military caste had been abolished;\nthe system of rule had been changed; the provinces had been shaken\nby war; the Mikado, veiled for centuries, had shown himself to his\nastonished people; the tumultuous flood of new ideas threatened to\nsweep away all customs and to wreck all beliefs; and the preaching of\nChristianity had been once more tolerated by law. Nor was this all.\nIn the hour of its prodigious efforts to reconstruct society, the\nGovernment had actually considered the question of Christianity--just\nas shrewdly and as impartially as it had studied the foreign\neducational, military, and naval systems. A commission was instructed\nto report upon the influence of Christianity in checking crime and vice\nabroad. The result confirmed the impartial verdict of Kaempffer, in\nthe seventeenth century, upon the ethics of the Japanese: \"They profess\na great respect and veneration for their Gods, and worship them in\nvarious ways. And I think I may affirm that, in the practice of virtue,\nin purity of life, and outward devotion, they far outdo the Christians.\"\n\nIn short, it was wisely decided that the foreign religion, besides its\ninappropriateness to the conditions of Oriental society, had proved\nitself less efficacious as an ethical influence in the West than\nBuddhism had done in the East. Certainly, in the great jiujutsu there\ncould have been little to gain, but much to lose, by a patriarchal\nsociety established on the principle of reciprocal duties, through the\nadoption of the teaching that a man shall leave his father and his\nmother and shall cleave unto his wife.[3]\n\nThe hope of making Japan Christian by Imperial edict has passed; and\nwith the reorganization of society, the chances of making Christianity,\nby any means whatever, the national religion, grow less and less.\nProbably missionaries must be tolerated for some time longer, in\nspite of their interference in matters altogether outside of their\nprofession; but they will accomplish no moral good, and in the interim\nthey will be used by those whom they desire to use. In 1894 there were\nin Japan some eight hundred Protestant, ninety-two Roman Catholic,\nand three Greek Catholic missionaries; and the total expenditure for\nall the foreign missions in Japan must represent not much less than\na million dollars a year,--probably represents more. As a result of\nthis huge disbursement, the various Protestant sects claim to have\nmade about 50,000 converts, and the Catholics an equal number; leaving\nsome thirty-nine million nine hundred thousand unconverted souls.\nConventions, and very malignant ones, forbid all unfavorable criticism\nof mission reports; but in spite of them I must express my candid\nopinion that even the above figures are not altogether trustworthy.\nConcerning the Roman Catholic missions, it is worthy of note that they\nprofess with far smaller means to have done as much work as their\nrivals; and that even their enemies acknowledge a certain solidity in\nthat work--which begins, rationally enough, with the children. But it\nis difficult not to feel skeptical as to mission reports: when one\nknows that among the lowest classes of Japanese there are numbers\nready to profess conversion for the sake of obtaining pecuniary\nassistance or employment; when one knows that poor boys pretend to\nbecome Christians for the sake of obtaining instruction in some foreign\nlanguage; when one hears constantly of young men, who, after professing\nChristianity for a time, openly return to their ancient gods; when\none sees--immediately after the distribution by missionaries of\nforeign contributions for public relief in time of flood, famine,\nor earthquake--sudden announcement of hosts of conversions, one is\nobliged to doubt not only the sincerity of the converted, but the\nmorality of the methods. Nevertheless, the expenditure of one million\ndollars a year in Japan for one hundred years might produce very\nlarge results, the nature of which may be readily conceived, though\nscarcely admired; and the existing weakness of the native religions,\nboth in regard to educational and financial means of self-defense,\ntempts aggression. Fortunately there now seems to be more than a mere\nhope that the Imperial Government will come to the aid of Buddhism\nin matters educational. On the other hand, there is at least a faint\npossibility that Christendom, at no very distant era, may conclude that\nher wealthiest missions are becoming transformed into enormous mutual\nbenefit societies.\n\n\n\n[1] Nominal, because the simple fact is that the real object of\nmissions is impossible. This whole question has been very strongly\nsummed up in a few lines by Herbert Spencer:--\n\n\"Everywhere, indeed, the special theological bias, accompanying a\nspecial set of doctrines, inevitably prejudges many sociological\nquestions. One who holds a creed to be absolutely true, and who by\nimplication holds the multitudinous other creeds to be absolutely false\nin so far as they differ from his own, cannot entertain the supposition\nthat the value of a creed is relative. That each religious system is,\nin its general characters, a natural part of the society in which it\nis found, is an entirely alien conception, and indeed a repugnant\none. His system of dogmatic theology he thinks good for all places\nand all times. He does not doubt that, when planted among a horde of\nsavages, it will be duly understood by them, duly appreciated by them,\nand will work upon them results such as those he experiences from it.\nThus prepossessed, he passes over the proofs that a people is no more\ncapable of receiving a higher form of religion than it is capable of\nreceiving a higher form of government; and that inevitably along with\nsuch religion, as with such government, there will go on a degradation\nwhich presently reduces it to one differing but nominally from its\npredecessor. In other words, his special theological bias blinds him to\nan important class of sociological truths.\"\n\n\n[2] The missionary work was begun by St. Francis Xavier, who landed at\nKagoshima in Ky\u016bsh\u016b on the 15th of August, 1549. A curious fact is that\nthe word _Bateren,_ a corruption of the Portuguese or Spanish _padre_,\nand so adopted into the language two centuries ago, still lingers\namong the common people in some provinces as a synonym for \"wicked\nmagician.\" Another curious fact worth mentioning is that a particular\nkind of bamboo screen--from behind which a person can see all that goes\non outside the house without being himself seen--is still called a\n_Kirishitan_ (Christian).\n\nGriffis explains the larger success of the Jesuit missions of the\nsixteenth century partly by the resemblance between the outer forms of\nRoman Catholicism and the outer forms of Buddhism. This shrewd judgment\nhas been confirmed by the researches of Ernest Satow (see _Transactions\nof the Asiatic Society of Japan_, vol. ii. part 2), who has published\nfacsimiles of some documents proving that the grant to the foreign\nmissionaries by the Lord of Yamaguchi was made that they might \"_preach\nthe law of Buddha,_\"--the new religion being at first taken for a\nhigher form of Buddhism. But those who have read the old Jesuit letters\nfrom Japan, or even the more familiar compilation of Charlevoix,\nmust recognize that the success of the missions could not be thus\nentirely explained. It presents us with psychological phenomena of a\nvery remarkable order,--phenomena perhaps never again to be repeated\nin the history of religion, and analogous to those strange forms of\nemotionalism classed by Hecker as contagious (see his _Epidemics of\nthe Middle Ages_). The old Jesuits understood the deeper emotional\ncharacter of the Japanese infinitely better than any modern missionary\nsociety: they studied with marvelous keenness all the springs of the\nrace-life, and knew how to operate them. Where they failed, our modern\nEvangelical propagandists need not hope to succeed. Still, even in\nthe most flourishing period of the Jesuit missions, only six hundred\nthousand converts were claimed.\n\n[3] A recent French critic declared that the comparatively small number\nof public charities and benevolent institutions in Japan proved the\nrace deficient in humanity! Now the truth is that in Old Japan the\nprinciple of mutual benevolence rendered such institutions unnecessary.\nAnd another truth is that the vast number of such institutions in the\nWest testifies much more strongly to the inhumanity than to the charity\nof our own civilization.\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nThe idea that Japan would throw open her interior to foreign industrial\nenterprise, soon after the beginning of Meiji, proved as fallacious\nas the dream of her sudden conversion to Christianity. The country\nremained, and still remains, practically closed against foreign\nsettlement. The Government itself had never seemed inclined to pursue\na conservative policy, and had made various attempts to bring about\nsuch a revision of treaties as would have made Japan a new field for\nlarge investments of Western capital Events, however, proved that the\nnational course was not to be controlled by statecraft only, but was to\nbe directed by something much less liable to error,--the Race-Instinct.\n\nThe world's greatest philosopher, writing in 1867, uttered this\njudgment: \"Of the way in which disintegrations are liable to be set up\nin a society that has evolved to the limit of its type, and reached\na state of moving equilibrium, a good illustration is furnished\nby Japan. The finished fabric into which its people had organized\nthemselves maintained an almost constant state so long as it was\npreserved from fresh external forces. But as soon as it received\nan impact from European civilization,--partly by armed aggression,\npartly by commercial impulse, partly by the influence of ideas,--this\nfabric began to fall to pieces. There is now in progress a political\ndissolution. Probably a political reorganization will follow; but,\nbe this as it may, the change thus far produced by outer action is\na change towards dissolution,--a change from integrated motions to\ndisintegrated motions.\"[1]\n\nThe political reorganization suggested by Mr. Spencer not only\nfollowed rapidly, but seemed more than likely to prove all that could\nbe desired, providing the new formative process were not seriously\nand suddenly interfered with. Whether it would be interfered with by\ntreaty revision, however, appeared a very doubtful question. While\nsome Japanese politicians worked earnestly for the removal of every\nobstacle to foreign settlement in the interior, others felt that such\nsettlement would mean a fresh introduction into the yet unstable social\norganism of disturbing elements sure to produce new disintegrations.\nThe argument of the former was that by the advocated revision of\nexisting treaties the revenue of the Empire could be much increased,\nand that the probable number of foreign settlers would be quite small.\nBut conservative thinkers considered that the real danger of opening\nthe country to foreigners was not the danger of the influx of numbers;\nand on this point the Race-Instinct agreed with them. It comprehended\nthe peril only in a vague way, but in a way that touched the truth.\n\nOne side of that truth ought to be familiar to Americans,--the\nOccidental side. The Occidental has discovered that, under any\nconditions of fair play, he cannot compete with the Oriental in the\nstruggle for life: he has fully confessed the fact, both in Australia\nand in the United States, by the passage of laws to protect himself\nagainst Asiatic emigration. For outrages upon Chinese or Japanese\nimmigrants he has nevertheless offered a host of absurd \"moral\nreasons.\" The only true reason can be formulated in six words: _The\nOriental can underlive the Occidental._ Now in Japan the other face\nof the question was formulated thus: _The Occidental can overlive\nthe Oriental[2] under certain favorable conditions_. One condition\nwould be a temperate climate; the other, and the more important,\nthat, in addition to full rights of competition, the Occidental\nshould have power for aggression. Whether he _would_ use such power\nwas not a common-sense question: the real question was, _could_ he\nuse it? And this answered in the affirmative, all discussion as to\nthe nature of his possible future policy of aggrandizement--whether\nindustrial, financial, political, or all three in one--were pure waste\nof time. It was enough to know that he might eventually find ways\nand means to master, if not to supplant, the native race; crushing\nopposition, paralyzing competition by enormous combinations of capital,\nmonopolizing resources, and raising the standard of living above the\nnative capacity. Elsewhere various weaker races had vanished or were\nvanishing under Anglo-Saxon domination. And in a country so poor as\nJapan, who could give assurance that the mere admission of foreign\ncapital did not constitute a national danger? Doubtless Japan would\nnever have to fear conquest by any single Western power: she could\nhold her own, on her own soil, against any one foreign nation. Neither\nwould she have to face the danger of invasion by a combination of\nmilitary powers: the mutual jealousies of the Occident would render\nimpossible any attack for the mere purpose of territorial acquisition.\nBut she might reasonably fear that, by prematurely opening her\ninterior to foreign settlement, she would condemn herself to the fate\nof Hawaii,--that her land would pass into alien ownership, that her\npolitics would be regulated by foreign influence, that her independence\nwould become merely nominal, that her ancient empire would eventually\nbecome transformed into a sort of cosmopolitan industrial republic.\n\nSuch were the ideas fiercely discussed by opposite parties until\nthe eve of the war with China. Meanwhile the Government had been\nengaged upon difficult negotiations. To open the country in the face\nof the anti-foreign reaction seemed in the highest degree dangerous;\nyet to have the treaties revised without opening the country seemed\nimpossible. It was evident that the steady pressure of the Western\npowers upon Japan was to be maintained unless their hostile combination\ncould be broken either by diplomacy or by force. The new treaty\nwith England, devised by the shrewdness of Aoki, met the dilemma.\nBy this treaty the country is to be opened; but British subjects\ncannot own land. They can even hold land only on leases terminating,\naccording to Japanese law, _ipso facto_ with the death of the lessor.\nNo coasting-trade is permitted them--not even to some of the old\ntreaty ports; and all other trade is to be heavily taxed. The foreign\nconcessions are to revert to Japan; British settlers pass under\nJapanese jurisdiction; England, in fact, loses everything, and Japan\ngains all by this treaty.\n\nThe first publication of the articles stupefied the English merchants,\nwho declared themselves betrayed by the mother-country,--legally tied\nhand and foot and delivered into Oriental bondage. Some declared\ntheir resolve to leave the country before the treaty should be put in\nforce. Certainly Japan may congratulate herself upon her diplomacy.\nThe country is, indeed, to be opened; but the conditions have been\nmade such as not only to deter foreign capital seeking investment, but\nas even to drive existing capital away. Should similar conditions be\nobtained from other powers, Japan will have much more than regained all\nthat she lost by former treaties contrived to her disadvantage. The\nAoki document surely represents the highest possible feat of jiujutsu\nin diplomacy.\n\nBut no one can well predict what may occur before this or any other\nnew treaty be put into operation. It is still uncertain whether Japan\nwill ultimately win all her ends by jiujutsu, although never in history\ndid any race display such courage and such genius in facing colossal\nodds. Within the memory of men not yet old, Japan has developed her\nmilitary power to a par with that of more than one country of Europe;\nindustrially she is fast becoming a competitor of Europe in the markets\nof the East; educationally she has placed herself also in the front\nrank of progress, having established a system of schools less costly\nbut scarcely less efficient than those of any Western country. And she\nhas done this in spite of being steadily robbed each year by unjust\ntreaties, in spite of enormous losses by floods and earthquakes,\nin spite of political troubles at home, in spite of the efforts of\nforeign proselytizers to sap the national spirit, and in spite of the\nextraordinary poverty of her people.\n\n\n[1] _First Principles_, 2d Ed., \u00a7 178.\n\n[2] That is, of course, the Japanese. I do not believe that under\nany circumstances the Occidentals could overlive the Chinese,--no\nmatter what might be the numerical disproportion. Even the Japanese\nacknowledge their incapacity to compete with the Chinese; and one of\nthe best arguments against the unreserved opening of the country is the\ndanger of Chinese immigration.\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nShould Japan fail in her glorious purpose, her misfortune will\ncertainly not be owing to any lack of national spirit. That quality she\npossesses in a degree without existing modern parallel,--in a degree\nthat so trite a word as \"patriotism\" is utterly powerless to represent.\nHowever psychologists may theorize on the absence or the limitations of\npersonal individuality among the Japanese, there can be no question at\nall that, as a nation, Japan possesses an individuality much stronger\nthan our own. Indeed we may doubt whether Western civilization has not\ncultivated the qualities of the individual even to the destruction of\nnational feeling.\n\nOn the topic of duty the entire people has but one mind. Any schoolboy\nwill say to you, if questioned about this subject: \"The duty of every\nJapanese to our Emperor is to help to make our country strong and\nwealthy, and to help to defend and preserve our national independence.\"\nAll know the danger. All are morally and physically trained to meet\nit. Every public school gives its students a preparatory course of\nmilitary discipline; every town has its _bataillons scolaires_. Even\nthe children too young to be regularly drilled are daily taught to\nsing in chorus the ancient songs of loyalty and the modern songs of\nwar. And new patriot songs are composed at regular intervals, and\nintroduced by Government approval into the schools and the camps. It\nis quite an experience to hear four hundred students chanting one of\nthese at the school in which I teach. The young men are all in uniform\non such occasions, and marshaled in military rank. The commanding\nofficer gives the order to \"mark time,\" and all the feet begin to beat\nthe ground together, with a sound as of a drum-roll. Then the leader\nsings a verse, and the students repeat it with surprising spirit,\nthrowing a peculiar emphasis always _on the last syllable_ of each\nline, so that the vocal effect is like a crash of musketry. It is a\nvery Oriental, but also a very impressive manner of chanting: you can\nhear the fierce heart of Old Japan beating through every Word. But\nstill more impressive is the same kind of singing by the soldiery.\nAnd at this very moment, while writing these lines, I hear from the\nancient castle of Kumamoto, like a pealing of thunder, the evening song\nof its garrison of eight thousand men, mingled with the long, sweet,\nmelancholy calling of a hundred bugles.[1]\n\nThe Government never relaxes its efforts to keep aglow the old sense of\nloyalty and love of country. New festivals have lately been established\nto this noble end; and the old ones are celebrated with increasing\nfervor each succeeding year. Always on the Emperor's birthday, His\nImperial Majesty's photograph is solemnly saluted in all the public\nschools and public offices of the Empire, with appropriate songs\nand ceremonies.[2] Occasionally some students, under missionary\ninstigation, refuse this simple tribute of loyalty and gratitude,\non the extraordinary ground that they are \"Christians,\" and thus\nget themselves ostracized by their comrades--sometimes to such an\nextent that they find it unpleasant to remain in the school. Then\nthe missionaries write home to sectarian papers some story about the\npersecution of Christians in Japan, \"_for refusing to worship an Idol\nof the Emperor_\"![3] Such incidents are, of course, infrequent, and\nserve only to indicate those methods by which the foreign evangelizers\nmanage to defeat the real purpose of their mission.\n\nProbably their fanatical attacks, not only upon the native spirit,\nthe native religion, and the native code of ethics, but even\nupon the native dress and customs, may partly account for some\nrecent extraordinary displays of national feeling by the Japanese\nChristians themselves. Some have openly expressed their desire to\ndispense altogether with the presence of foreign proselytizers,\nand to create a new and peculiar Christianity, to be essentially\nJapanese and essentially national in spirit. Others have gone much\nfurther,--demanding that all mission schools, churches, and other\nproperty, now held (to satisfy or evade law) in Japanese names, shall\nbe made over in fact as well as name to Japanese Christians, as a\nproof of the purity of the motives professed. And in sundry cases\nit has already been found necessary to surrender mission schools\naltogether to native direction.\n\nI spoke in a former paper of the splendid enthusiasm with which the\nentire nation had seconded the educational efforts and purposes of the\nGovernment.[4] Not less zeal and self-denial have been shown in aid\nof the national measures of self-defense. The Emperor himself having\nset the example, by devoting a large part of his private income to the\npurchase of ships-of-war, no murmur was excited by the edict requiring\none tenth of all government salaries for the same purpose. Every\nmilitary or naval officer, every professor or teacher, and nearly every\nemployee of the Civil Service[5] thus contributes monthly to the naval\ndefense. Minister, peer, or member of Parliament, is no more exempt\nthan the humblest post-office clerk. Besides these contributions by\nedict, to continue for six years, generous donations are voluntarily\nmade by rich land-owners, merchants, and hankers throughout the Empire.\nFor, in order to save herself, Japan must become strong quickly: the\nouter pressure upon her is much too serious to admit of delay. Her\nefforts are almost incredible, and their success is not improbable. But\nthe odds against her are vast; and she may--stumble. Will she stumble?\nIt is very hard to predict. But a future misfortune could scarcely\nbe the result of any weakening of the national spirit. It would be\nfar more likely to occur as a result of political mistakes,--of rash\nself-confidence.\n\n\n[1] This was written in 1893.\n\n[2] The ceremony of saluting His Majesty's picture is only a repetition\nof the ceremony required on presentation at court. A bow; three steps\nforward; a deeper how; three more steps forward, and a very low how. On\nretiring from the Imperial presence, the visitor walks backward, bowing\nagain three times as before.\n\n[3] This is an authentic text.\n\n[4] See _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_.\n\n[5] Letter-carriers and ordinary policemen are exempted. But the salary\nof a policeman is only about six yen a month; that of a letter-carrier\nmuch less.\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\nIt still remains to ask what is the likely fate of the old morality\nin the midst of all this absorption, assimilation, and reaction. And\nI think an answer is partly suggested in the following conversation\nwhich I had recently with a student of the University. It is written\nfrom memory, and is therefore not exactly verbatim, but has interest\nas representing the thought of the new generation---witnesses of the\nvanishing of the gods:--\n\n\"Sir, what was your opinion when you first came to this country, about\nthe Japanese? Please to be quite frank with me.\"\n\n\"The young Japanese of to-day?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Then you mean those who still follow the ancient customs, and maintain\nthe ancient forms of courtesy,--the delightful old men, like your\nformer Chinese teacher, who still represent the old samurai spirit?\"\n\n\"Yes. Mr. A---- is an ideal samurai. I mean such as he.\"\n\n\"I thought them all that is good and noble. They seemed to me just like\ntheir own gods.\"\n\n\"And do you still think so well of them?\"\n\n\"Yes. And the more I see the Japanese of the new generation, the more I\nadmire the men of the old.\"\n\n\"We also admire them. But, as a foreigner, you must also have observed\ntheir defects.\"\n\n\"What defects?\"\n\n\"Defects in practical knowledge of the Western kind.\"\n\n\"But to judge the men of one civilization by the standard requirements\nof another, which is totally different in organization, would be\nunjust. It seems to me that the more perfectly a man represents his\nown civilization, the more we must esteem him as a citizen, and as a\ngentleman. And judged by their own standards, which were morally very\nhigh, the old Japanese appear to me almost perfect men.\"\n\n\"In what respect?\"\n\n\"In kindness, in courtesy, in heroism, in self-control, in power of\nself-sacrifice, in filial piety, in simple faith, and in the capacity\nto be contented with a little.\"\n\n\"But would such qualities be sufficient to assure practical success in\nthe struggle of Western life?\"\n\n\"Not exactly; but some of them would assist.\"\n\n\"The qualities really necessary for practical success in Western life\nare just those qualities wanting to the old Japanese--are they not?\"\n\n\"I think so.\"\n\n\"And our old society cultivated those qualities of unselfishness,\nand courtesy, and benevolence which you admire, at the sacrifice of\nthe individual. But Western society cultivates the individual by\nunrestricted competition,--competition in the power of thinking and\nacting.\"\n\n\"I think that is true.\"\n\n\"But in order that Japan be able to keep her place among nations, she\nmust adopt the industrial and commercial methods of the West. Her\nfuture depends upon her industrial development; but there can be no\ndevelopment if we continue to follow our ancient morals and manners.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Not to be able to compete with the West means ruin; but to compete\nwith the West we must follow the methods of the West; and these are\nquite contrary to the old morality.\"\n\n\"Perhaps.\"\n\n\"I do not think it can be doubted. To do any kind of business upon a\nvery large scale, men must not be checked by the idea that no advantage\nshould be sought which could injure the business of others. And on\nthe other hand, wherever there is no restraint on competition, men who\nhesitate to compete because of mere kindliness of heart, must fail.\nThe law of the struggle is that the strong and active shall win, the\nweak and the foolish and the indifferent lose. But our old morality\ncondemned such competition.\"\n\n\"That is true.\"\n\n\"Then, Sir, no matter how good the old morality, we cannot make any\ngreat industrial progress, nor even preserve our national independence,\nby following it. We must forsake our past. We must substitute law for\nmorality.\"\n\n\"But it is not a good substitute.\"\n\n\"It has been a good substitute in the West, if we can judge by the\nmaterial greatness and power of England. We must learn in Japan to be\nmoral by reason, instead of being moral by emotion. A knowledge of the\nmoral reason of law is itself a moral knowledge.\"\n\n\"For you, and those who study cosmic law, perhaps. But what of the\ncommon people?\"\n\n\"They will try to follow the old religion; they will continue to trust\nin their gods. But life will, perhaps, become more difficult for them.\nThey were happy in the ancient days.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe foregoing essay was written two years ago. Later political events\nand the signing of new treaties obliged me to remodel it last year;\nand now, while the proofs are passing through my hands, the events of\nthe war with China compel some further remarks. What none could have\npredicted in 1893 the whole world recognizes in 1895 with astonishment\nand with admiration. Japan has won in her jiujutsu. Her autonomy is\npractically restored, her place among civilized nations seems to be\nassured: she has passed forever out of Western tutelage. What neither\nher arts nor her virtues could ever have gained for her, she has\nobtained by the very first display of her new scientific powers of\naggression and destruction.\n\nNot a little has been hastily said about long secret preparation\nfor the war made by Japan, and about the flimsiness of her pretexts\nfor entering upon it. I believe that the purposes of her military\npreparations were never other than those indicated in the preceding\nchapter. It was to recover her independence that Japan steadily\ncultivated her military strength for twenty-five years. But\nsuccessive pulses of popular reaction against foreign influence\nduring that period--each stronger than the preceding--warned the\nGovernment of the nation's growing consciousness of power and of its\never-increasing irritation against the treaties. The reaction of\n1893-94 took so menacing a form through the House of Representatives\nthat the dissolution of the Diet became an immediate necessity. But\neven repeated parliamentary dissolutions could only have postponed\nthe issue. It has since been averted partly by the new treaties,\nand partly by the sudden loosening of the Empire's military force\nagainst China. Should it not be obvious that only the merciless\nindustrial and political pressure exercised by a combined Occident\nagainst Japan really compelled this war,--as a manifestation of force\nin the direction of least resistance? Happily that manifestation\nhas been effectual. Japan has proved herself able to hold her own\nagainst the world. She has no wish to break her industrial relations\nwith the Occident unless further imposed upon; but with the military\nrevival of her Empire it is almost certain that the day of Occidental\ninfluence upon her--whether direct or indirect--is definitely over.\nFurther anti-foreign reaction may be expected in the natural order of\nthings,--not necessarily either violent or unreasonable, but embodying\nthe fullest reassertion of national individuality. Some change even in\nthe form of government is not impossible, considering the questionable\nresults of experimentation with Constitutional Government made by a\npeople accustomed for untold centuries to autocratic rule. But the\nfallacy of Sir Harry Parkes's prediction that Japan would become \"a\nSouth American republic\" warns against ventures to anticipate the\nfuture of this wonderful and enigmatic race.\n\nIt is true that the war is not yet over;--but the ultimate triumph of\nJapan seems beyond doubt,--even allowing for the formidable chances of\na revolution in China. The world is already asking with some anxiety\nwhat will come next? Perhaps the compulsion of the most peaceable and\nmost conservative of all nations, under both Japanese and Occidental\npressure, to really master our arts of war in self-defense. After that\nperhaps a great military awakening of China, who would be quite likely,\nunder the same circumstances as made New Japan, to turn her arms _South\nand West_. For possible ultimate consequences, consult Dr. Pearson's\nrecent book, _National Character_.\n\nIt is to be remembered that the art of jiujutsu was invented in China.\nAnd the West has yet to reckon with China,--China, the ancient teacher\nof Japan,--China, over whose changeless millions successive storms\nof conquest have passed only as a wind over reeds. Under compulsion,\nindeed, she may be forced, like Japan, to defend her integrity by\njiujutsu. But the end of that prodigious jiujutsu might have results\nthe most serious for the entire world. It might be reserved for China\nto avenge all those aggressions, extortions, exterminations, of which\nthe colonizing West has been guilty in dealing with feebler races.\n\nAlready thinkers, summarizing the experience of the two great\ncolonizing nations,--thinkers not to be ignored, both French and\nEnglish,--have predicted that the earth will never be fully dominated\nby the races of the West, and that the future belongs to the Orient.\nSuch, too, are the convictions of many who have learned by long sojourn\nin the East to see beneath the surface of that strange humanity so\nutterly removed from us in thought,--to comprehend the depth and force\nof its tides of life,--to understand its immeasurable capacities of\nassimilation,--to discern its powers of self-adaptation to almost\nany environment between the arctic and antarctic circles. And in the\njudgment of such observers nothing less than the extermination of a\nrace comprising more than one third of the world's population could now\nassure us even of the future of our own civilization.\n\nPerhaps, as has been recently averred by Dr. Pearson, the long history\nof Western expansion and aggression is even now approaching its close.\nPerhaps our civilization has girdled the earth only to force the study\nof our arts of destruction and our arts of industrial competition upon\nraces much more inclined to use them against us than for us. Even to do\nthis we had to place most of the world under tribute,--so colossal were\nthe powers needed. Perhaps we could not have attempted less, because\nthe tremendous social machinery we have created, threatens, like the\nDemon of the old legend, to devour us in the same hour that we can find\nno more tasks for it.\n\nA wondrous creation, indeed, this civilization of ours,--ever growing\nhigher out of an abyss of ever-deepening pain; but it seems also to\nmany not less monstrous than wonderful. That it may crumble suddenly in\na social earthquake has long been the evil dream of those who dwell in\nits summits. That as a social structure it cannot endure, by reason of\nits moral foundation, is the teaching of Oriental wisdom.\n\nCertainly the results of its labors cannot pass away till man shall\nhave fully played out the drama of his existence upon this planet.\nIt has resurrected the past;--it has revived the languages of the\ndead;--it has wrested countless priceless secrets from Nature;--it has\nanalyzed suns and vanquished space and time;--it has compelled the\ninvisible to become visible;--it has torn away all veils save the veil\nof the Infinite;--it has founded ten thousand systems of knowledge;--it\nhas expanded the modern brain beyond the cubic capacity of the medi\u00e6val\nskull;--it has evolved the most noble, even if it has also evolved\nthe most detestable, forms of individuality;--it has developed the\nmost exquisite sympathies and the loftiest emotions known to man, even\nthough it has developed likewise forms of selfishness and of suffering\nimpossible in other eras. Intellectually it has grown beyond the\naltitude of the stars. That it must, in any event, bear to the future\na relation incomparably vaster than that of Greek civilization to the\npast, is impossible to disbelieve.\n\nBut more and more each year it exemplifies the law that the greater\nthe complexity of an organism, the greater also its susceptibility to\nfatal hurt Always, as its energies increase, is there evolved within\nit a deeper, a keener, a more exquisitely ramified sensibility to\nevery shock or wound,--to every exterior force of change. Already the\nmere results of a drought or a famine in the remotest parts of the\nearth, the destruction of the smallest centre of supply, the exhaustion\nof a mine, the least temporary stoppage of any commercial vein or\nartery, the slightest pressure upon any industrial nerve, may produce\ndisintegrations that carry shocks of pain into every portion of the\nenormous structure. And the wondrous capacity of that structure to\noppose exterior forces by corresponding changes within itself would\nappear to be now endangered by internal changes of a totally different\ncharacter. Certainly our civilization is developing the individual more\nand more. But is it not now developing him much as artificial heat\nand colored light and chemical nutrition might develop a plant under\nglass? Is it not rapidly evolving millions into purely special fitness\nfor conditions impossible to maintain,--of luxury without limit for\nthe few, of merciless servitude to steel and steam for the many? To\nsuch doubts the reply has been given that social transformations will\nsupply the means of providing against perils, and of recuperating all\nlosses. That, for a time at least, social reforms will work miracles\nis much more than a hope. But the ultimate problem of our future seems\nto be one that no conceivable social change can happily solve,--not\neven supposing possible the establishment of an absolutely perfect\ncommunism,--because the fate of the higher races seems to depend upon\ntheir true value in the future economy of Nature. To the query, \"Are\nwe not the Superior Race?\"--we may emphatically answer \"Yes;\" but this\naffirmative will not satisfactorily answer a still more important\nquestion, \"Are we the fittest to survive?\"\n\nWherein consists the fitness for survival? In the capacity of\nself-adaptation to any and every environment;--in the instantaneous\nability to face the unforeseen;--in the inherent power to meet and to\nmaster all opposing natural influences. And surely not in the mere\ncapacity to adapt ourselves to factitious environments of our own\ninvention, or to abnormal influences of our own manufacture,--but only\nin the simple power to live. Now in this simple power of living, our\nso-called higher races are immensely inferior to the races of the Far\nEast. Though the physical energies and the intellectual resources of\nthe Occidental exceed those of the Oriental, they can be maintained\nonly at an expense totally incommensurate with the racial advantage.\nFor the Oriental has proved his ability to study and to master the\nresults of our science upon a diet of rice, and on as simple a diet can\nlearn to manufacture and to utilize our most complicated inventions.\nBut the Occidental cannot even live except at a cost sufficient for\nthe maintenance of twenty Oriental lives. In our very superiority lies\nthe secret of our fatal weakness. Our physical machinery requires a\nfuel too costly to pay for the running of it in a perfectly conceivable\nfuture period of race-competition and pressure of population.\n\nBefore, and very probably since, the apparition of Man, various\nraces of huge and wonderful creatures, now extinct, lived on this\nplanet. They were not all exterminated by the attacks of natural\nenemies: many seem to have perished simply by reason of the enormous\ncostliness of their structures at a time when the earth was forced to\nbecome less prodigal of her gifts. Even so it may be that the Western\nRaces will perish--because of the cost of their existence. Having\naccomplished their uttermost, they may vanish from the face of the\nworld,--supplanted by peoples better fitted for survival.\n\nJust as we have exterminated feebler races by merely _overliving_\nthem,--by monopolizing and absorbing, almost without conscious\neffort, everything necessary to their happiness,--so may we\nourselves be exterminated at last by races capable of underliving\nus, of monopolizing all our necessities; races more patient, more\nself-denying, more fertile, and much less expensive for Nature to\nsupport. These would doubtless inherit our wisdom, adopt our more\nuseful inventions, continue the best of our industries,--perhaps\neven perpetuate what is most worthy to endure in our sciences and\nour arts. But they would scarcely regret our disappearance any more\nthan we ourselves regret the extinction of the dinotherium or the\nichthyosaurus.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nTHE RED BRIDAL\n\n\nFalling in love at first sight is less common in Japan than in the\nWest; partly because of the peculiar constitution of Eastern society,\nand partly because much sorrow is prevented by early marriages which\nparents arrange. Love suicides, on the other hand, are not infrequent;\nbut they have the particularity of being nearly always double.\nMoreover, they must be considered, in the majority of instances, the\nresults of improper relationships. Still, there are honest and brave\nexceptions; and these occur usually in country districts. The love\nin such a tragedy may have evolved suddenly out of the most innocent\nand natural boy-and-girl friendship, and may have a history dating\nback to the childhood of the victims. But even then there remains a\nvery curious difference between a Western double suicide for love\nand a Japanese j\u014dshi. The Oriental suicide is not the result of a\nblind, quick frenzy of pain. It is not only cool and methodical: it is\nsacramental. It involves a marriage of which the certificate is death.\nThe twain pledge themselves to each other in the presence of the gods,\nwrite their farewell letters, and die. No pledge can be more profoundly\nsacred than this. And therefore, if it should happen that, by sudden\noutside interference and by medical skill, one of the pair is snatched\nfrom death, that one is bound by the most solemn obligation of love and\nhonor to cast away life at the first possible opportunity. Of course,\nif both are saved, all may go well. But it were better to commit any\ncrime of violence punishable with half a hundred years of state prison\nthan to become known as a man who, after pledging his faith to die with\na girl, had left her to travel to the Meido alone. The woman who should\nfail in her vow might be partially forgiven; but the man who survived a\nj\u014dshi through interference, and allowed himself to live on because his\npurpose was once frustrated, would be regarded all his mortal days as a\nperjurer, a murderer, a bestial coward, a disgrace to human nature. I\nknew of one such case--but I would now rather try to tell the story of\nan humble love affair which happened at a village in one of the eastern\nprovinces.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe village stands on the bank of a broad but very shallow river, the\nstony bed of which is completely covered with water only during the\nrainy season. The river traverses an immense level of rice-fields,\nopen to the horizon north and south, but on the west walled in by a\nrange of blue peaks, and on the east by a chain of low wooded hills.\nThe village itself is separated from these hills only by half a\nmile of rice-fields; and its principal cemetery, the adjunct of a\nBuddhist temple dedicated to Kwannon-of-the-Eleven-Faces, is situated\nupon a neighboring summit. As a distributing centre, the village\nis not unimportant. Besides several hundred thatched dwellings of\nthe ordinary rustic style, it contains one whole street of thriving\ntwo-story shops and inns with handsome tiled roofs. It possesses also\na very picturesque ujigami, or Shint\u014d parish temple, dedicated to\nthe Sun-Goddess, and a pretty shrine, in a grove of mulberry-trees,\ndedicated to the Deity of Silkworms.\n\nThere was born in this village, in the seventh year of Meiji, in the\nhouse of one Uchida, a dyer, a boy called Tar\u014d. His birthday happened\nto be an aku-nichi, or unlucky day,--the seventh of the eighth month,\nby the ancient Calendar of Moons. Therefore his parents, being\nold-fashioned folk, feared and sorrowed. But sympathizing neighbors\ntried to persuade them that everything was as it should be, because\nthe calendar had been changed by the Emperor's order, and according\nto the new calendar the day was a kitsu-nichi, or lucky day. These\nrepresentations somewhat lessened the anxiety of the parents; but when\nthey took the child to the ujigami, they made the gods a gift of a very\nlarge paper lantern, and besought earnestly that all harm should be\nkept away from their boy. The kannushi, or priest, repeated the archaic\nformulas required, and waved the sacred gohei above the little shaven\nhead, and prepared a small amulet to be suspended about the infant's\nneck; after which the parents visited the temple of Kwannon on the\nhill, and there also made offerings, and prayed to all the Buddhas to\nprotect their first-born.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nWhen Tar\u014d was six years old, his parents decided to send him to the new\nelementary school which had been built at a short distance from the\nvillage. Tar\u014d's grandfather bought him some writing-brushes, paper, a\nbook, and a slate, and early one morning led him by the hand to the\nschool. Tar\u014d felt very happy, because the slate and the other things\ndelighted him like so many new toys, and because everybody had told him\nthat the school was a pleasant place, where he would have plenty of\ntime to play. Moreover, his mother had promised to give him many cakes\nwhen he should come home.\n\nAs soon as they reached the school,--a big two-story building with\nglass windows,--a servant showed them into a large bare apartment, where\na serious-looking man was seated at a desk. Tar\u014d's grandfather bowed\nlow to the serious-looking man, and addressed him as Sensei, and humbly\nrequested him to teach the little fellow kindly. The Sensei rose up,\nand bowed in return, and spoke courteously to the old man. He also put\nhis hand on Tar\u014d's head, and said nice things. But Taro became all at\nonce afraid. When his grandfather had bid him good-by, he grew still\nmore afraid, and would have liked to run away home; but the master took\nhim into a large, high, white room, full of girls and boys sitting on\nbenches, and showed him a bench, and told him to sit down. All the boys\nand girls turned their heads to look at Tar\u014d, and whispered to each\nother, and laughed. Tar\u014d thought they were laughing at him, and began\nto feel very miserable. A big bell rang; and the master, who had taken\nhis place on a high platform at the other end of the room, ordered\nsilence in a tremendous way that terrified Tar\u014d. All became quiet, and\nthe master began to speak. Tar\u014d thought he spoke most dreadfully. He\ndid not say that school was a pleasant place: he told the pupils very\nplainly that it was not a place for play, but for hard work. He told\nthem that study was painful, but that they must study in spite of the\npain and the difficulty. He told them about the rules which they must\nobey, and about the punishments for disobedience or carelessness.\nWhen they all became frightened and still, he changed his voice\naltogether, and began to talk to them like a kind father,--promising\nto love them just like his own little ones. Then he told them how the\nschool had been built by the august command of His Imperial Majesty,\nthat the boys and girls of the country might become wise men and good\nwomen, and how dearly they should love their noble Emperor, and be\nhappy even to give their lives for his sake. Also he told them how they\nshould love their parents, and how hard their parents had to work for\nthe means of sending them to school, and how wicked and ungrateful it\nwould be to idle during study-hours. Then he began to call them each by\nname, asking questions about what he had said.\n\nTar\u014d had heard only a part of the master's discourse. His small mind\nwas almost entirely occupied by the fact that all the boys and girls\nhad looked at him and laughed when he had first entered the room. And\nthe mystery of it all was so painful to him that he could think of\nlittle else, and was therefore quite unprepared when the master called\nhis name.\n\n\"Uchida Tar\u014d, what do you like best in the world?\"\n\nTar\u014d started, stood up, and answered frankly,--\n\n\"Cake.\"\n\nAll the boys and girls again looked at him and laughed; and the master\nasked reproachfully, \"Uchida Tar\u014d, do you like cake more than you like\nyour parents? Uchida Tar\u014d, do you like cake better than your duty to\nHis Majesty our Emperor?\"\n\nThen Tar\u014d knew that he had made some great mistake; and his face became\nvery hot, and all the children laughed, and he began to cry. This only\nmade them laugh still more; and they kept on laughing until the master\nagain enforced silence, and put a similar question to the next pupil.\nTar\u014d kept his sleeve to his eyes, and sobbed.\n\nThe bell rang. The master told the children they would receive their\nfirst writing-lesson during the next class-hour from another teacher,\nbut that they could first go out and play for a while. He then left the\nroom; and the boys and girls all ran out into the school-yard to play,\ntaking no notice whatever of Tar\u014d. The child felt more astonished at\nbeing thus ignored than he had felt before on finding himself an object\nof general attention. Nobody except the master had yet spoken one word\nto him; and now even the master seemed to have forgotten his existence.\nHe sat down again on his little bench, and cried and cried; trying all\nthe while not to make a noise, for fear the children would come back to\nlaugh at him.\n\nSuddenly a hand was laid upon his shoulder: a sweet voice was speaking\nto him; and turning his head, he found himself looking into the most\ncaressing pair of eyes he had ever seen,--the eyes of a little girl\nabout a year older than he.\n\n\"What is it?\" she asked him tenderly.\n\nTar\u014d sobbed and snuffled helplessly for a moment, before he could\nanswer: \"I am very unhappy here. I want to go home.\"\n\n\"Why?\" questioned the girl, slipping an arm about his neck.\n\n\"They all hate me; they will not speak to me or play with _me_.\"\n\n\"Oh no!\" said the girl. \"Nobody dislikes you at all. It is only because\nyou are a stranger. When I first went to school, last year, it was\njust the same with me. You must not fret.\"\n\n\"But all the others are playing; and I must sit in here,\" protested\nTar\u014d.\n\n\"Oh no, you must not. You must come and play with me. I will be your\nplayfellow. Come!\"\n\nTaro at once began to cry out loud. Self-pity and gratitude and the\ndelight of newfound sympathy filled his little heart so full that he\nreally could not help it. It was so nice to be petted for crying.\n\nBut the girl only laughed, and led him out of the room quickly, because\nthe little mother soul in her divined the whole situation. \"Of course\nyou may cry, if you wish,\" she said; \"but you must play, too!\" And oh,\nwhat a delightful play they played together!\n\nBut when school was over, and Tar\u014d's grandfather came to take him home,\nTar\u014d began to cry again, because it was necessary that he should bid\nhis little playmate good-by.\n\nThe grandfather laughed, and exclaimed, \"Why, it is little\nYoshi,--Miyahara O-Yoshi! Yoshi can come along with us, and stop at\nthe house a while. It is on her way home.\"\n\nAt Tar\u014d's house the playmates ate the promised cake together; and\nO-Yoshi mischievously asked, mimicking the master's severity, \"Uchida\nTar\u014d, do you like cake better than me?\"\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nO-Yoshi's father owned some neighboring rice-lands, and also kept a\nshop in the village. Her mother, a samurai, adopted into the Miyahara\nfamily at the time of the breaking up of the military caste, had\nborne several children, of whom O-Yoshi, the last, was the only\nsurvivor. While still a baby, O-Yoshi lost her mother. Miyahara was\npast middle age; but he took another wife, the daughter of one of his\nown farmers,--a young girl named Ito O-Tama. Though swarthy as new\ncopper, O-Tama was a remarkably handsome peasant girl, tall, strong,\nand active; but the choice caused surprise, because O-Tama could\nneither read nor write. The surprise changed to amusement when it was\ndiscovered that almost from the time of entering the house she had\nassumed and maintained absolute control. But the neighbors stopped\nlaughing at Miyahara's docility when they learned more about O-Tama.\nShe knew her husband's interests better than he, took charge of\neverything, and managed his affairs with such tact that in less than\ntwo years she had doubled his income. Evidently, Miyahara had got a\nwife who was going to make him rich. As a step-mother she bore herself\nrather kindly, even after the birth of her first boy. O-Yoshi was well\ncared for, and regularly sent to school.\n\nWhile the children were still going to school, a long-expected and\nwonderful event took place. Strange tall men with red hair and\nbeards--foreigners from the West--came down into the valley with a\ngreat multitude of Japanese laborers, and constructed a railroad.\nIt was carried along the base of the low hill range, beyond the\nrice-fields and mulberry groves in the rear of the village; and almost\nat the angle where it crossed the old road leading to the temple of\nKwannon, a small station-house was built; and the name of the village\nwas painted in Chinese characters upon a white signboard erected on a\nplatform. Later, a line of telegraph-poles was planted, parallel with\nthe railroad. And still later, trains came, and shrieked, and stopped,\nand passed,--nearly shaking the Buddhas in the old cemetery off their\nlotus-flowers of stone.\n\nThe children wondered at the strange, level, ash-strewn way, with its\ndouble lines of iron shining away north and south into mystery; and\nthey were awe-struck by the trains that came roaring and screaming and\nsmoking, like storm-breathing dragons, making the ground quake as they\npassed by. But this awe was succeeded by curious interest,--an interest\nintensified by the explanations of one of their school-teachers, who\nshowed them, by drawings on the blackboard, how a locomotive engine was\nmade; and who taught them, also, the still more marvelous operation of\nthe telegraph, and told them how the new western capital and the sacred\ncity of Kyoto were to be united by rail and wire, so that the journey\nbetween them might be accomplished in less than two days, and messages\nsent from the one to the other in a few seconds.\n\nTaro and O-Yoshi became very dear friends. They studied together,\nplayed together, and visited each other's homes. But at the age of\neleven O-Yoshi was taken from school to assist her step-mother in the\nhousehold; and thereafter Tar\u014d saw her but seldom. He finished his own\nstudies at fourteen, and began to learn his father's trade. Sorrows\ncame. After having given him a little brother, his mother died; and\nin the same year, the kind old grandfather who had first taken him to\nschool followed her; and after these things the world seemed to him\nmuch less bright than before. Nothing further changed his life till he\nreached his seventeenth year. Occasionally he would visit the home of\nthe Miyahara, to talk with O-Yoshi. She had grown up into a slender,\npretty woman; but for him she was still only the merry playfellow of\nhappier days.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nOne soft spring day, Tar\u014d found himself feeling very lonesome, and the\nthought came to him that it would be pleasant to see O-Yoshi. Probably\nthere existed in his memory some constant relation between the sense of\nlonesomeness in general and the experience of his first schoolday in\nparticular. At all events, something within him--perhaps that a dead\nmother's love had made, or perhaps something belonging to other dead\npeople--wanted a little tenderness, and he felt sure of receiving the\ntenderness from O-Yoshi. So he took his way to the little shop. As he\napproached it, he heard her laugh, and it sounded wonderfully sweet.\nThen he saw her serving an old peasant, who seemed to be quite pleased,\nand was chatting garrulously. Tar\u014d had to wait, and felt vexed that he\ncould not at once get O-Yoshi's talk all for himself; but it made him\na little happier even to be near her. He looked and looked at her, and\nsuddenly began to wonder why he had never before thought how pretty she\nwas. Yes, she was really pretty,--more pretty than any other girl in\nthe village. He kept on looking and wondering, and always she seemed\nto be growing prettier. It was very strange; he could not understand\nit. But O-Yoshi, for the first time, seemed to feel shy under that\nearnest gaze, and blushed to her little ears. Then Tar\u014d felt quite sure\nthat she was more beautiful than anybody else in the whole world, and\nsweeter, and better, and that he wanted to tell her so; and all at\nonce he found himself angry with the old peasant for talking so much\nto O-Yoshi, just as if she were a common person. In a few minutes the\nuniverse had been quite changed for Taro, and he did not know it. He\nonly knew that since he last saw her O-Yoshi had become divine; and as\nsoon as the chance came, he told her all his foolish heart, and she\ntold him hers. And they wondered because their thoughts were so much\nthe same; and that was the beginning of great trouble.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nThe old peasant whom Tar\u014d had once seen talking to O-Yoshi had not\nvisited the shop merely as a customer. In addition to his real calling\nhe was a professional nak\u014ddo, or match-maker, and was at that very\ntime acting in the service of a wealthy rice dealer named Okazaki\nYa\u00efchir\u014d. Okazaki had seen O-Yoshi, had taken a fancy to her, and had\ncommissioned the nak\u014ddo to find out everything possible about her, and\nabout the circumstances of her family.\n\nVery much detested by the peasants, and even by his more immediate\nneighbors in the village, was Okazaki Ya\u00efchir\u014d. He was an elderly man,\ngross, hard-featured, with a loud, insolent manner. He was said to be\nmalignant. He was known to have speculated successfully in rice during\na period of famine, which the peasant considers a crime, and never\nforgives. He was not a native of the ken, nor in any way related to its\npeople, but had come to the village eighteen years before, with his\nwife and one child, from some western district. His wife had been dead\ntwo years, and his only son, whom he was said to have treated cruelly,\nhad suddenly left him, and gone away, nobody knew whither. Other\nunpleasant stories were told about him. One was that, in his native\nwestern province, a furious mob had sacked his house and his godowns,\nand obliged him to fly for his life. Another was that, on his wedding\nnight, he had been compelled to give a banquet to the god Jiz\u014d.\n\nIt is still customary in some provinces, on the occasion of the\nmarriage of a very unpopular farmer, to make the bridegroom feast\nJiz\u014d. A band of sturdy young men force their way into the house,\ncarrying with them a stone image of the divinity, borrowed from the\nhighway or from some neighboring cemetery. A large crowd follows them.\nThey deposit the image in the guest-room, and they demand that ample\nofferings of food and of sak\u00e9 be made to it at once. This means, of\ncourse, a big feast for themselves, and it is more than dangerous to\nrefuse. All the uninvited guests must be served till they can neither\neat nor drink any more. The obligation to give such a feast is not only\na public rebuke: it is also a lasting public disgrace.\n\nIn his old age, Okazaki wished to treat himself to the luxury of\na young and pretty wife; but in spite of his wealth he found this\nwish less easy to gratify than he had expected. Various families had\ncheckmated his proposals at once by stipulating impossible conditions.\nThe Headman of the village had answered, less politely, that he would\nsooner give his daughter to an oni (demon). And the rice dealer would\nprobably have found himself obliged to seek for a wife in some other\ndistrict, if he had not happened, after these failures, to notice\nO-Yoshi. The girl much more than pleased him; and he thought he might\nbe able to obtain her by making certain offers to her people, whom he\nsupposed to be poor. Accordingly, he tried, through the nak\u014ddo, to open\nnegotiations with the Miyahara family.\n\nO-Yoshi's peasant step-mother, though entirely uneducated, was\nvery much the reverse of a simple woman. She had never loved her\nstep-daughter, but was much too intelligent to be cruel to her without\nreason. Moreover, O-Yoshi was far from being in her way. O-Yoshi was\na faithful worker, obedient, sweet-tempered, and very useful in the\nhouse. But the same cool shrewdness that discerned O-Yoshi's merits\nalso estimated the girl's value in the marriage market. Okazaki never\nsuspected that he was going to deal with his natural superior in\ncunning. O-Tama knew a great deal of his history. She knew the extent\nof his wealth. She was aware of his unsuccessful attempts to obtain a\nwife from various families, both within and without the village. She\nsuspected that O-Yoshi's beauty might have aroused a real passion,\nand she knew that an old man's passion might be taken advantage of in\na large number of cases. O-Yoshi was not wonderfully beautiful, but\nshe was a really pretty and graceful girl, with very winning ways; and\nto get another like her, Okazaki would have to travel far. Should he\nrefuse to pay well for the privilege of obtaining such a wife, O-Tama\nknew of younger men who would not hesitate to be generous. He might\nhave O-Yoshi, but never upon easy terms. After the repulse of his first\nadvances, his conduct would betray him. Should he prove to be really\nenamored, he could be forced to do more than any other resident of\nthe district could possibly afford. It was therefore highly important\nto discover the real strength of his inclination, and to keep the\nwhole matter, in the mean time, from the knowledge of O-Yoshi. As the\nreputation of the nak\u014ddo depended on professional silence, there was no\nlikelihood of his betraying the secret.\n\nThe policy of the Miyahara family was settled in a consultation between\nO-Yoshi's father and her step-mother. Old Miyahara would have scarcely\npresumed, in any event, to oppose his wife's plans; but she took the\nprecaution of persuading him, first of all, that such a marriage ought\nto be in many ways to his daughter's interest. She discussed with him\nthe possible financial advantages of the union. She represented that\nthere were, indeed, unpleasant risks, but that these could be provided\nagainst by making Okazaki agree to certain preliminary settlements.\nThen she taught her husband his r\u00f4le. Pending negotiations, the visits\nof Tar\u014d were to be encouraged. The liking of the pair for each other\nwas a mere cobweb of sentiment that could be brushed out of existence\nat the required moment; and meantime it was to be made use of. That\nOkazaki should hear of a likely young rival might hasten desirable\nconclusions.\n\nIt was for these reasons that, when Tar\u014d's father first proposed\nfor O-Yoshi in his son's name, the suit was neither accepted nor\ndiscouraged. The only immediate objection offered was that O-Yoshi was\none year older than Taro, and that such a marriage would be contrary to\ncustom,--which was quite true. Still, the objection was a weak one, and\nhad been selected because of its apparent unimportance.\n\nOkazaki's first overtures were at the same time received in suck a\nmanner as to convey the impression that their sincerity was suspected.\nThe Miyahara refused to understand the nak\u014ddo at all. They remained\nastonishingly obtuse even to the plainest assurances, until Okazaki\nfound it politic to shape what he thought a tempting offer. Old\nMiyahara then declared that he would leave the matter in his wife's\nhands, and abide by her decision.\n\nO-Tama decided by instantly rejecting the proposal, with every\nappearance of scornful astonishment. She said unpleasant things. There\nwas once a man who wanted to get a beautiful wife very cheap. At last\nhe found a beautiful woman who said she ate only two grains of rice\nevery day. So he married her; and every day she put into her mouth only\ntwo grains of rice; and he was happy. But one night, on returning from\na journey, he watched her secretly through a hole in the roof, and saw\nher eating monstrously,--devouring mountains of rice and fish, and\nputting all the food into a hole in the top of her head under her hair.\nThen he knew that he had married the Yama-Omba.\n\nO-Tama waited a month for the results of her rebuff,--waited very\nconfidently, knowing how the imagined value of something wished for\ncan be increased by the increase of the difficulty of getting it. And,\nas she expected, the nak\u014ddo at last reappeared. This time Okazaki\napproached the matter less condescendingly than before; adding to his\nfirst offer, and even volunteering seductive promises. Then she knew\nshe was going to have him in her power. Her plan of campaign was not\ncomplicated, but it was founded upon a deep instinctive knowledge of\nthe uglier side of human nature; and she felt sure of success. Promises\nwere for fools; legal contracts involving conditions were traps for the\nsimple. Okazaki should yield up no small portion of his property before\nobtaining O-Yoshi.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nTaro's father earnestly desired his son's marriage with O-Yoshi,\nand had tried to bring it about in the usual way. He was surprised\nat not being able to get any definite answer from the Miyahara. He\nwas a plain, simple man; but he had the intuition of sympathetic\nnatures, and the unusually gracious manner of O-Tama, whom he had\nalways disliked, made him suspect that he had nothing to hope. He\nthought it best to tell his suspicions to Tar\u014d, with the result that\nthe lad fretted himself into a fever. But O-Yoshi's step-mother had no\nintention of reducing Taro to despair at so early a stage of her plot.\nShe sent kindly worded messages to the house during his illness, and a\nletter from O-Yoshi, which had the desired effect of reviving all his\nhopes. After his sickness, he was graciously received by the Miyahara,\nand allowed to talk to O-Yoshi in the shop. Nothing, however, was said\nabout his father's visit.\n\nThe lovers had also frequent chances to meet at the ujigami court,\nwhither O-Yoshi often went with her step-mother's last baby. Even among\nthe crowd of nurse-girls, children, and young mothers, they could\nexchange a few words without fear of gossip. Their hopes received no\nfurther serious check for a month, when O-Taina pleasantly proposed to\nTar\u014d's father an impossible pecuniary arrangement. She had lifted a\ncorner of her mask, because Okazaki was struggling wildly in the net\nshe had spread for him, and by the violence of the struggles she knew\nthe end was not far off. O-Yoshi was still ignorant of what was going\non; but she had reason to fear that she would never be given to Tar\u014d.\nShe was becoming thinner and paler.\n\nTar\u014d one morning took his child-brother with him to the temple court,\nin the hope of an opportunity to chat with O-Yoshi. They met; and he\ntold her that he was feeling afraid. He had found that the little\nwooden amulet which his mother had put about his neck when he was a\nchild had been broken within the silken cover.\n\n\"That is not bad luck,\" said O-Yoshi. \"It is only a sign that the\naugust gods have been guarding you. There has been sickness in the\nvillage; and you caught the fever, but you got well. The holy charm\nshielded you: that is why it was broken. Tell the kannushi to-day: he\nwill give you another.\"\n\nBecause they were very unhappy, and had never done harm to anybody,\nthey began to reason about the justice of the universe.\n\nTar\u014d said: \"Perhaps in the former life we hated each other. Perhaps\nI was unkind to you, or you to me. And this is our punishment. The\npriests say so.\"\n\nO-Yoshi made answer with something of her old playfulness: \"I was a man\nthen, and you were a woman. I loved you very, very much; but you were\nvery unkind to me. I remember it all quite well.\"\n\n\"You are not a Bosatsu,\" returned Taro, smiling despite his sorrow; \"so\nyou cannot remember anything. It is only in the first of the ten states\nof Bosatsu that we begin to remember.\"\n\n\"How do you know I am not a Bosatsu?\"\n\n\"You are a woman. A woman cannot be a Bosatsu.\"\n\n\"But is not Kwan-ze-on Bosatsu a woman?\"\n\n\"Well, that is true. But a Bosatsu cannot love anything except the ky\u014d.\"\n\n\"Did not Shaka have a wife and a son? Did he not love them?\"\n\n\"Yes; but you know he had to leave them.\"\n\n\"That was very bad, even if Shaka did it. But I don't believe all those\nstories. And would you leave me, if you could get me?\"\n\nSo they theorized and argued, and even laughed betimes: it was so\npleasant to be together. But suddenly the girl became serious again,\nand said:--\n\n\"Listen! Last night I saw a dream. I saw a strange river, and the sea.\nI was standing, I thought, beside the river, very near to where it\nflowed into the sea. And I was afraid, very much afraid, and did not\nknow why. Then I looked, and saw there was no water in the river, no\nwater in the sea, but only the bones of the Buddhas. But they were all\nmoving, just like water.\n\n\"Then again I thought I was at home, and that you had given me a\nbeautiful gift-silk for a kimono, and that the kimono had been made.\nAnd I put it on. And then I wondered, because at first it had seemed of\nmany colors, but now it was all white; and I had foolishly folded it\nupon me as the robes of the dead are folded, to the left. Then I went\nto the homes of all my kinsfolk to say good-by; and I told them I was\ngoing to the Meido. And they all asked me why; and I could not answer.\"\n\n\"That is good,\" responded Tar\u014d; \"it is very lucky to dream of the\ndead. Perhaps it is a sign we shall soon be husband and wife.\" This\ntime the girl did not reply; neither did she smile.\n\nTar\u014d was silent a minute; then he added: \"If you think it was not a\ngood dream, Yoshi, whisper it all to the nanten plant in the garden:\nthen it will not come true.\"\n\nBut on the evening of the same day Taro's father was notified that\nMiyahara O-Yoshi was to become the wife of Okazaki Ya\u00efchir\u014d.\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nO-Tama was really a very clever woman. She had never made any serious\nmistakes. She was one of those excellently organized beings who\nsucceed in life by the perfect ease with which they exploit inferior\nnatures. The full experience of her peasant ancestry in patience, in\ncunning, in crafty perception, in rapid foresight, in hard economy,\nwas concentrated into a perfect machinery within her unlettered brain.\nThat machinery worked faultlessly in the environment which had called\nit into existence, and upon the particular human material with which it\nwas adapted to deal,--the nature of the peasant. But there was another\nnature which O-Tama understood less well, because there was nothing in\nher ancestral experience to elucidate it. She was a strong disbeliever\nin all the old ideas about character distinctions between samurai and\nheimin. She considered there had never been any differences between\nthe military and the agricultural classes, except such differences\nof rank as laws and customs had established; and these had been bad.\nLaws and customs, she thought, had resulted in making all people\nof the former samurai class more or less helpless and foolish; and\nsecretly she despised all shizoku. By their incapacity for hard work\nand their absolute ignorance of business methods, she had seen them\nreduced from wealth to misery. She had seen the pension bonds given\nthem by the new government pass from their hands into the clutches of\ncunning speculators of the most vulgar class. She despised weakness;\nshe despised incapacity; and she deemed the commonest vegetable\nseller a much superior being to the ex-Kar\u014d obliged in his old age to\nbeg assistance from those who had formerly cast off their footgear\nand bowed their heads to the mud whenever he passed by. She did not\nconsider it an advantage for O-Yoshi to have had a samurai mother: she\nattributed the girl's delicacy to that cause, and thought her descent\na misfortune. She had clearly read in O-Yoshi's character all that\ncould be read by one not of a superior caste; among other facts, that\nnothing would be gained by needless harshness to the child, and the\nimplied quality was not one that she disliked. But there were other\nqualities in O-Yoshi that she had never clearly perceived,--a profound\nthough well-controlled sensitiveness to moral wrong, an unconquerable\nself-respect, and a latent reserve of will power that could triumph\nover any physical pain. And thus it happened that the behavior of\nO-Yoshi, when told she would have to become the wife of Okazaki, duped\nher step-mother, who was prepared to encounter a revolt. She was\nmistaken.\n\nAt first the girl turned white as death. But in another moment she\nblushed, smiled, bowed down, and agreeably astonished the Miyahara\nby announcing, in the formal language of filial piety, her readiness\nto obey the will of her parents in all things. There was no further\nappearance even of secret dissatisfaction in her manner; and O-Tama was\nso pleased that she took her into confidence, and told her something of\nthe comedy of the negotiations, and the full extent of the sacrifices\nwhich Okazaki had been compelled to make. Furthermore, in addition to\nsuch trite consolations as are always offered to a young girl betrothed\nwithout her own consent to an old man, O-Tama gave her some really\npriceless advice how to manage Okazaki. Tar\u014d's name was not even once\nmentioned. For the advice O-Yoshi dutifully thanked her step-mother,\nwith graceful prostrations. It was certainly admirable advice. Almost\nany intelligent peasant girl, fully instructed by such a teacher as\nO-Tama, might have been able to support existence with Okazaki. But\nO-Yoshi was only half a peasant girl. Her first sudden pallor and her\nsubsequent crimson flush, after the announcement of the fate reserved\nfor her, were caused by two emotional sensations of which O-Tama was\nfar from suspecting the nature. Both represented much more complex\nand rapid thinking than O-Tama had ever done in all her calculating\nexperience.\n\nThe first was a shock of horror accompanying the full recognition\nof the absolute moral insensibility of her step-mother, the utter\nhopelessness of any protest, the virtual sale of her person to that\nhideous old man for the sole motive of unnecessary gain, the cruelty\nand the shame of the transaction. But almost as quickly there rushed\nto her consciousness an equally complete sense of the need of courage\nand strength to face the worst, and of subtlety to cope with strong\ncunning. It was then she smiled. And as she smiled, her young will\nbecame steel, of the sort that severs iron without turning edge. She\nknew at once exactly what to do,--her samurai blood told her that; and\nshe plotted only to gain the time and the chance. And she felt already\nso sure of triumph that she had to make a strong effort not to laugh\naloud. The light in her eyes completely deceived O-Tama, who detected\nonly a manifestation of satisfied feeling, and imagined the feeling due\nto a sudden perception of advantages to be gained by a rich marriage.\n\nIt was the fifteenth day of the ninth month; and the wedding was to be\ncelebrated upon the sixth of the tenth month. But three days later,\nO-Tama, rising at dawn, found that her step-daughter had disappeared\nduring the night. Tar\u014d Uchida had not been seen by his father since the\nafternoon of the previous day. But letters from both were received a\nfew hours afterwards.\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nThe early morning train from Ky\u014dto was in; the little station was full\nof hurry and noise,--clattering of geta, humming of converse, and\nfragmentary cries of village boys selling cakes and luncheons: \"_Kwashi\nyoros--!_\" \"_Sushi yoros--!_\" \"_Bent\u014d yoros--!_\" Five minutes, and the\ngeta clatter, and the banging of carriage doors, and the shrilling of\nthe boys stopped, as a whistle blew and the train jolted and moved.\nIt rumbled out, puffed away slowly northward, and the little station\nemptied itself. The policeman on duty at the wicket banged it to, and\nbegan to walk up and down the sanded platform, surveying the silent\nrice-fields.\n\nAutumn had come,--the Period of Great Light. The sun glow had suddenly\nbecome whiter, and shadows sharper, and all outlines clear as edges\nof splintered glass. The mosses, long parched out of visibility by\nthe summer heat, had revived in wonderful patches and bands of bright\nsoft green over all shaded bare spaces of the black volcanic soil;\nfrom every group of pine-trees vibrated the shrill wheeze of the\ntsuku-tsuku-b\u014dshi; and above all the little ditches and canals was a\nsilent flickering of tiny lightnings,--zigzag soundless flashings of\nemerald and rose and azure-of-steel,--the shooting of dragon-flies.\n\nNow, it may have been due to the extraordinary clearness of the morning\nair that the policeman was able to perceive, far up the track, looking\nnorth, something which caused him to start, to shade his eyes with his\nhand, and then to look at the clock. But, as a rule, the black eye of\na Japanese policeman, like the eye of a poised kite, seldom fails to\nperceive the least unusual happening within the whole limit of its\nvision. I remember that once, in far-away Oki, wishing, without being\nmyself observed, to watch a mask-dance in the street before my inn,\nI poked a small hole through a paper window of the second story, and\npeered at the performance. Down the street stalked a policeman, in\nsnowy uniform and havelock; for it was midsummer. He did not appear\neven to see the dancers or the crowd through which he walked without so\nmuch as turning his head to either side. Then he suddenly halted, and\nfixed his gaze exactly on the hole in my sh\u014dji; for at that hole he had\nseen an eye which he had instantly decided, by reason of its shape, to\nbe a foreign eye. Then he entered the inn, and asked questions about my\npassport, which had already been examined.\n\nWhat the policeman at the village station observed, and afterwards\nreported, was that, more than half a mile north of the station, two\npersons had reached the railroad track by crossing the rice-fields,\napparently after leaving a farmhouse considerably to the northwest of\nthe village. One of them, a woman, he judged by the color of her robe\nand girdle to be very young. The early express train from T\u014dky\u014d was\nthen due in a few minutes, and its advancing smoke could be perceived\nfrom the station platform. The two persons began to run quickly along\nthe track upon which the train was coming. They ran on out of sight\nround a curve.\n\nThose two persons were Tar\u014d and O-Yoshi. They ran quickly, partly to\nescape the observation of that very policeman, and partly so as to meet\nthe T\u014dky\u014d express as far from the station as possible. After passing\nthe curve, however, they stopped running, and walked, for they could\nsee the smoke coming. As soon as they could see the train itself, they\nstepped off the track, so as not to alarm the engineer, and waited,\nhand in hand. Another minute, and the low roar rushed to their ears,\nand they knew it was time. They stepped back to the track again,\nturned, wound their arms about each other, and lay down cheek to cheek,\nvery softly and quickly, straight across the inside rail, already\nringing like an anvil to the vibration of the hurrying pressure.\n\nThe boy smiled. The girl, tightening her arms about his neck, spoke in\nhis ear:--\n\n\"For the time of two lives, and of three, I am your wife; you are my\nhusband, Tar\u014d Sama.\"\n\nTar\u014d said nothing, because almost at the same instant, notwithstanding\nfrantic attempts to halt a fast train without airbrakes in a distance\nof little more than a hundred yards, the wheels passed through\nboth,--cutting evenly, like enormous shears.\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\nThe village people now put bamboo cups full of flowers upon the single\ngravestone of the united pair, and burn incense-sticks, and repeat\nprayers. This is not orthodox at all, because Buddhism forbids j\u014dshi,\nand the cemetery is a Buddhist one; but there is religion in it,--a\nreligion worthy of profound respect.\n\nYou ask why and how the people pray to those dead. Well, all do not\npray to them, but lovers do, especially unhappy ones. Other folk only\ndecorate the tomb and repeat pious texts. But lovers pray there for\nsupernatural sympathy and help. I was myself obliged to ask why, and I\nwas answered simply, \"_Because those dead suffered so much._\"\n\nSo that the idea which prompts such prayers would seem to be at once\nmore ancient and more modern than Buddhism,--the Idea of the eternal\nReligion of Suffering.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\nA WISH FULFILLED\n\n\nThen, when thou leavest the body, and comest into the free ether, thou\nshalt be a God undying, everlasting;--neither shall death have any more\ndominion over thee.--The Golden Verses.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe streets were full of white uniforms, and the calling of bugles,\nand the rumbling of artillery. The armies of Japan, for the third\ntime in history, had subdued Korea; and the Imperial declaration of\nwar against China had been published by the city journals, printed on\ncrimson paper. All the military powers of the Empire were in motion.\nThe first line of reserves had been summoned, and troops were pouring\ninto Kumamoto. Thousands were billeted upon the citizens; for barracks\nand inns and temples could not shelter the passing host. And still\nthere was no room, though special trains were carrying regiments north,\nas fast as possible, to the transports waiting at Shimonoseki.\n\nNevertheless, considering the immensity of the movement, the city was\nastonishingly quiet. The troops were silent and gentle as Japanese boys\nin school hours; there was no swaggering, no reckless gayety. Buddhist\npriests were addressing squadrons in the courts of the temples; and a\ngreat ceremony had already been performed in the parade-ground by the\nAbbot of the Shin-sh\u016b sect, who had come from Ky\u014dto for the occasion.\nThousands had been placed by him under the protection of Amida; the\nlaying of a naked razor-blade on each young head, symbolizing voluntary\nrenunciation of life's vanities, was the soldier's consecration.\nEverywhere, at the shrines of the older faith, prayers were being\noffered up by priests and people to the shades of heroes who fought\nand died for their Emperor in ancient days, and to the gods of armies.\nAt the Shint\u014d temple of Fujisaki sacred charms were being distributed\nto the men. But the most imposing rites were those at Honmy\u014dji, the\nfar-famed monastery of the Nichiren sect, where for three hundred years\nhave reposed the ashes of Kato Kiyomasa, conqueror of Korea, enemy\nof the Jesuits, protector of the Buddhists;--Honmy\u014dji, where the\npilgrim chant of the sacred invocation, Namu-my\u014d-h\u014d-renge-ky\u014d, sounds\nlike the roar of surf;--Honmy\u014dji, where you may buy wonderful little\nmamori in the shape of tiny Buddhist shrines, each holding a minuscule\nimage of the deified warrior. In the great central temple, and in all\nthe lesser temples that line the long approach, special services were\nsung, and special prayers were addressed to the spirit of the hero for\nghostly aid. The armor, and helmet, and sword of Kiyomasa, preserved in\nthe main shrine for three centuries, were no longer to be seen. Some\ndeclared that they had been sent to Korea, to stimulate the heroism\nof the army. But others told a story of echoing hoofs in the temple\ncourt by night, and the passing of a mighty Shadow, risen from the dust\nof his sleep, to lead the armies of the Son of Heaven once more to\nconquest. Doubtless even among the soldiers, brave, simple lads from\nthe country, many believed,--just as the men of Athens believed in the\npresence of Theseus at Marathon. All the more, perhaps, because to no\nsmall number of the new recruits Kumamoto itself appeared a place of\nmarvels hallowed by traditions of the great captain, and its castle\na world's wonder, built by Kiyomasa after the plan of a stronghold\nstormed in Ch\u00f6sen.\n\nAmid all these preparations, the people remained singularly quiet.\nFrom mere outward signs no stranger could have divined the general\nfeeling.[1] The public calm was characteristically Japanese; the race,\nlike the individual, becoming to all appearance the more self-contained\nthe more profoundly its emotions are called into play. The Emperor had\nsent presents to his troops in Korea, and words of paternal affection;\nand citizens, following the august example, were shipping away by every\nsteamer supplies of rice-wine, provisions, fruits, dainties, tobacco,\nand gifts of all kinds. Those who could afford nothing costlier were\nsending straw sandals. The entire nation was subscribing to the war\nfund; and Kumamoto, though by no means wealthy, was doing all that both\npoor and rich could help her do to prove her loyalty. The check of the\nmerchant mingled obscurely with the paper dollar of the artisan, the\nlaborer's dime, the coppers of the kurumaya, in the great fraternity\nof unbidden self-denial. Even children gave; and their pathetic\nlittle contributions were not refused, lest the universal impulse of\npatriotism should be in any manner discouraged. But there were special\nsubscriptions also being collected in every street for the support\nof the families of the troops of the reserves,--married men, engaged\nmostly in humble callings, who had been obliged of a sudden to leave\ntheir wives and little ones without the means to live. That means the\ncitizens voluntarily and solemnly pledged themselves to supply. One\ncould not doubt that the soldiers, with all this unselfish love behind\nthem, would perform even more than simple duty demanded.\n\nAnd they did.\n\n\n[1] This was written in Kumamoto during the fall of 1894. The\nenthusiasm of the nation was concentrated and silent; but under that\nexterior calm smouldered all the fierceness of the old feudal days.\nThe Government was obliged to decline the freely proffered services\nof myriads of volunteers,--- chiefly swordsmen. Had a call for such\nvolunteers been made I am sure 100,000 men would have answered it\nwithin a week. But the war spirit manifested itself in other ways\nnot less painful than extraordinary. Many killed themselves on being\nrefused the chance of military service; and I may cite at random a\nfew strange facts from the local press. The gendarme at S\u00f6ul, ordered\nto escort Minister Otori back to Japan, killed himself for chagrin at\nnot having been allowed to proceed instead to the field of battle.\nAn officer named Ishiyama, prevented by illness from joining his\nregiment on the day of its departure for Korea, rose from his sick-bed,\nand, after saluting a portrait of the Emperor, killed himself with\nhis sword. A soldier named Ikeda, at \u014csaka, having been told that\nbecause of some breach of discipline he might not be permitted to go\nto the front, shot himself. Captain Kani, of the \"Mixed Brigade,\" was\nprostrated by sickness during the attack made by his regiment on a fort\nnear Chinchow, and carried insensible to the hospital. Recovering a\nweek later, he went (November 28) to the spot where he had fallen, and\nkilled himself,--leaving this letter, translated by the _Japan Daily\nMail_: \"It was here that illness compelled me to halt and to let my\nmen storm the fort without me. Never can I wipe out such a disgrace in\nlife. To clear my honor I die thus,--leaving this letter to speak for\nme.\"\n\nA lieutenant in T\u014dky\u014d, finding none to take care of his little\nmotherless girl after his departure, killed her, and joined his\nregiment before the facts were known. He afterwards sought death on the\nfield and found it, that he might join his child on her journey to the\nMeido. This reminds one of the terrible spirit of feudal times. The\nsamurai, before going into a hopeless contest, sometimes killed his\nwife and children the better to forget those three things no warrior\nshould remember on the battle-field,--namely, home, the dear ones, and\nhis own body. After that act of ferocious heroism the samurai was ready\nfor the shini-mono-gurui,--the hour of the \"death-fury,\"--giving and\ntaking no quarter.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nManyemon said there was a soldier at the entrance who wanted to see me.\n\n\"Oh, Manyemon, I hope they are not going to billet soldiers upon\nus!--the house is too small! Please ask him what he wishes.\"\n\n\"I did,\" answered Manyemon; \"he says he knows you.\"\n\nI went to the door and looked at a fine young fellow in uniform, who\nsmiled and took off his cap as I came forward. I could not recognize\nhim. The smile was familiar, notwithstanding. Where could I have seen\nit before?\n\n\"Teacher, have you really forgotten me?\"\n\nFor another moment I stared at him, wondering: then he laughed gently,\nand uttered his name,--\n\n\"Kosuga Asakichi.\"\n\nHow my heart leaped to him as I held out both hands! \"Come in, come in!\"\nI cried.\n\n\"But how big and handsome you have grown! No wonder I did not know you.\"\n\nHe blushed like a girl, as he slipped off his shoes and unbuckled his\nsword. I remembered that he used to blush the same way in class, both\nwhen he made a mistake, and when he was praised. Evidently his heart\nwas still as fresh as then, when he was a shy boy of sixteen in the\nschool at Matsue. He had got permission to come to bid me good-by: the\nregiment was to leave in the morning for Korea.\n\nWe dined together, and talked of old times,--of Izumo, of Kitzuki, of\nmany pleasant things. I tried in vain at first to make him drink a\nlittle wine; not knowing that he had promised his mother never to drink\nwine while he was in the army. Then I substituted coffee for the wine,\nand coaxed him to tell me all about himself. He had returned to his\nnative place, after graduating, to help his people, wealthy farmers;\nand he had found that his agricultural studies at school were of great\nservice to him. A year later, all the youths of the village who had\nreached the age of nineteen, himself among the number, were summoned\nto the Buddhist temple for examination as to bodily and educational\nfitness for military service. He had passed as ichiban (first-class)\nby the verdicts of the examining surgeon and of the recruiting-major\n(_sh\u014dsa_), and had been drawn at the ensuing conscription. After\nthirteen months' service he had been promoted to the rank of sergeant.\nHe liked the array. At first he had been stationed at Nagoya, then at\nT\u014dky\u014d; but finding that his regiment was not to be sent to Korea, he\nhad petitioned with success for transfer to the Kumamoto division. \"And\nnow I am so glad,\" he exclaimed, his face radiant with a soldier's\njoy: \"we go to-morrow!\" Then he blushed again, as if ashamed of having\nuttered his frank delight. I thought of Carlyle's deep saying, that\nnever pleasures, but only suffering and death are the lures that draw\ntrue hearts. I thought also--what I could not say to any Japanese--that\nthe joy in the lad's eyes was like nothing I had ever seen before,\nexcept the caress in the eyes of a lover on the morning of his bridal.\n\n\"Do you remember,\" I asked, \"when you declared in the schoolroom that\nyou wished to die for His Majesty the Emperor?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he answered, laughing. \"And the chance has come,--not for me\nonly, but for several of my class.\"\n\n\"Where are they?\" I asked. \"With you?\"\n\n\"No; they were all in the Hiroshima division, and they are already\nin Korea. Imaoka (you remember him, teacher: he was very tall), and\nNagasaki, and Ishihara,--they were all in the fight at S\u00f6ng-Hwan. And\nour drill-master, the lieutenant,--you remember him?\"\n\n\"Lieutenant Fujii, yes. He had retired from the army.\"\n\n\"But he belonged to the reserves. He has also gone to Korea. He has had\nanother son born since you left Izumo.\"\n\n\"He had two little girls and one boy,\" I said, \"when I was in Matsue.\"\n\n\"Yes: now he has two boys.\"\n\n\"Then his family must feel very anxious about him?\"\n\n\"_He_ is not anxious,\" replied the lad. \"To die in battle is very\nhonorable; and the Government will care for the families of those who\nare killed. So our officers have no fear. Only--it is very sad to die\nif one has no son.\"\n\n\"I cannot see why.\"\n\n\"Is it not so in the West?\"\n\n\"On the contrary, we think it is very sad for the man to die who has\nchildren.\"\n\n\"But why?\"\n\n\"Every good father must be anxious about the future of his children.\nIf he be taken suddenly away from them, they may have to suffer many\nsorrows.\"\n\n\"It is not so in the families of our officers. The relations care well\nfor the child, and the Government gives a pension. So the father need\nnot be afraid. But to die is sorrowful for one who has no child.\"\n\n\"Do you mean sorrowful for the wife and the rest of the family?\"\n\n\"No; I mean for the man himself, the husband.\"\n\n\"And how? Of what use can a son be to a dead man?\"\n\n\"The son inherits. The son maintains the family name. The son makes the\nofferings.\"\n\n\"The offerings to the dead?\"\n\n\"Yes. Do you now understand?\"\n\n\"I understand the fact, not the feeling. Do military men still hold\nthese beliefs?\"\n\n\"Certainly. Are there no such beliefs in the West?\"\n\n\"Not now. The ancient Greeks and Romans had such beliefs. They thought\nthat the ancestral spirits dwelt in the home, received the offerings,\nwatched over the family. Why they thought so, we partly know; but\nwe cannot know exactly how they felt, because we cannot understand\nfeelings which we have never experienced, or which we have not\ninherited. For the same reason, I cannot know the real feeling of a\nJapanese in relation to the dead.\"\n\n\"Then you think that death is the end of everything?\"\n\n\"That is not the explanation of my difficulty. Some feelings are\ninherited,--perhaps also some ideas. Your feelings and your thoughts\nabout the dead, and the duty of the living to the dead, are totally\ndifferent from those of an Occidental. To us the idea of death is that\nof a total separation, not only from the living, but from the world.\nDoes not Buddhism also tell of a long dark journey that the dead must\nmake?\"\n\n\"The journey to the Meido,--yes. All must make that journey. But we\ndo not think of death as a total separation. We think of the dead as\nstill with us. We speak to them each day.\"\n\n\"I know that. What I do not know are the ideas behind the facts. If the\ndead go to the Meido, why should offerings be made to ancestors in the\nhousehold shrines, and prayers be said to them as if they were really\npresent? Do not the common people thus confuse Buddhist teachings and\nShint\u014d belief?\"\n\n\"Perhaps many do. But even by those who are Buddhists only, the\nofferings and the prayers to the dead are made in different places\nat the same time,--in the parish temples, and also before the family\nbutsudan.\"\n\n\"But how can souls be thought of as being in the Meido, and also in\nvarious other places at the same time? Even if the people believe the\nsoul to be multiple, that would not explain away the contradiction. For\nthe dead, according to Buddhist teaching, are judged.\"\n\n\"We think of the soul both as one and as many. We think of it as of one\nperson, but not as of a substance. We think of it as something that may\nbe in many places at once, like a moving of air.\"\n\n\"Or of electricity?\" I suggested.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nEvidently, to my young friend's mind the ideas of the Meido and of\nthe home-worship of the dead had never seemed irreconcilable; and\nperhaps to any student of Buddhist philosophy the two faiths would not\nappear to involve any serious contradictions. The Sutra of the Lotus\nof the Good Law teaches that the Buddha state \"is endless and without\nlimit,--immense as the element of ether.\" Of a Buddha who had long\nentered into Nirvana it declares, \"Even after his complete extinction,\nhe wanders through this whole world in all ten points of space.\" And\nthe same Sutra, after recounting the simultaneous apparition of all\nthe Buddhas who had ever been, makes the teacher proclaim, \"_All these\nyou see are my proper bodies, by kotis of thousands, like the sands of\nthe Ganges: they have appeared that the law may be fulfilled._\" But it\nseemed to me obvious that, in the artless imagination of the common\npeople, no real accord could ever have been established between the\nprimitive conceptions of Shint\u014d and the much more definite Buddhist\ndoctrine of a judgment of souls.\n\n\"Can you really think of death,\" I asked, \"as life, as light?\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" was the smiling answer. \"We think that after death we shall\nstill be with our families. We shall see our parents, our friends. We\nshall remain in this world,--the light as now.\"\n\n(There suddenly recurred to me, with new meaning, some words of a\nstudent's composition regarding the future of a just man: _His soul\nshall hover eternally in the universe._)\n\n\"And therefore,\" continued Asakichi, \"one who has a son can die with a\ncheerful mind.\"\n\n\"Because the son will make those offerings of food and drink without\nwhich the spirit would suffer?\" I queried.\n\n\"It is not only that. There are duties much more important than the\nmaking of offerings. It is because every man needs some one to love him\nafter he is dead. Now you will understand.\"\n\n\"Only your words,\" I replied, \"only the facts of the belief. The\nfeeling I do not understand. I cannot think that the love of the\nliving could make me happy after death. I cannot even imagine myself\nconscious of any love after death. And you, you are going far away to\nbattle,--do you think it unfortunate that you have no son?\"\n\n\"I? Oh no! I myself _am_ a son,--a younger son. My parents are still\nalive and strong, and my brother is caring for them. If I am killed,\nthere will be many at home to love me,--brothers, sisters, and little\nones. It is different with us soldiers: we are nearly all very young.\"\n\n\"For how many years,\" I asked, \"are the offerings made to the dead?\"\n\n\"For one hundred years.\"\n\n\"Only for a hundred years?\"\n\n\"Yes. Even in the Buddhist temples the prayers and the offerings are\nmade only for a hundred years.\"\n\n\"Then do the dead cease to care for remembrance in a hundred years? Or\ndo they fade out at last? Is there a dying of souls?\"\n\n\"No, but after one hundred years they are no longer with us. Some say\nthey are born again; others say they become kami, and do reverence to\nthem as kami, and on certain days make offerings to them in the toko.\"\n\n(Such were, I knew, the commonly accepted explanations, but I had heard\nof beliefs strangely at variance with these. There are traditions that,\nin families of exceeding virtue, the souls of ancestors took material\nform, and remained sometimes visible through hundreds of years. A\nsengaji pilgrim[1] of old days has left an account of two whom he said\nhe had seen in some remote part of the interior. They were small, dim\nshapes, \"dark like old bronze.\" They could not speak, but made little\nmoaning sounds, and they did not eat, but only inhaled the warm vapor\nof the food daily set before them. Every year, their descendants said,\nthey became smaller and vaguer.)\n\n\"Do you think it is very strange that we should love the dead?\"\nAsakichi asked.\n\n\"No,\" I replied, \"I think it is beautiful. But to me, as a Western\nstranger, the custom seems not of to-day, but of a more ancient world.\nThe thoughts of the old Greeks about the dead must have been much like\nthose of the modern Japanese. The feelings of an Athenian soldier in\nthe age of Pericles were perhaps the same as yours in this era of\nMeiji. And you have read at school how the Greeks sacrificed to the\ndead, and how they paid honor to the spirits of brave men and patriots?\"\n\n\"Yes. Some of their customs were very like our own. Those of us who\nfall in battle against China will also be honored. They will be revered\nas kami. Even our Emperor will honor them.\"\n\n\"But,\" I said, \"to die so far away from the graves of one's fathers, in\na foreign land, would seem, even to Western people, a very sad thing.\"\n\n\"Oh no. There will be monuments set up to honor our dead in their own\nnative villages and towns, and the bodies of our soldiers will be\nburned, and the ashes sent home to Japan. At least that will be done\nwhenever possible. It might be difficult after a great battle.\"\n\n(A sudden memory of Homer surged back to me, with, a vision of that\nantique plain where \"the pyres of the dead burnt continually in\nmultitude.\")\n\n\"And the spirits of the soldiers slain in this war,\" I asked,--\"will\nthey not always be prayed to help the country in time of national\ndanger?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, always. We shall be loved and worshiped by all the people.\"\n\nHe said \"we\" quite naturally, like one already destined. After a little\npause he resinned:--\n\n\"The last year that I was at school we had a military excursion. We\nmarched to a shrine in the district of In, where the spirits of heroes\nare worshiped. It is a beautiful and lonesome place, among hills; and\nthe temple is shadowed by very high trees. It is always dim and cool\nand silent there. We drew up before the shrine in military order;\nnobody spoke. Then the bugle sounded through the holy grove, like a\ncall to battle; and we all presented arms; and the tears came to my\neyes,--I do not know why. I looked at my comrades, and I saw they\nfelt as I did. Perhaps, because you are a foreigner, you will not\nunderstand. But there is a little poem, that every Japanese knows,\nwhich expresses the feeling very well. It was written long ago by the\ngreat priest Saigyo H\u014dshi, who had been a warrior before becoming a\npriest, and whose real name was Sato Norikyo:--\n\n    \"'_Nani go to no_\n    _Owashimasu ka wa_\n    _Shirane domo_\n    _Arigata sa ni zo_\n    _Namida kobururu._'\"[2]\n\nIt was not the first time that I had heard such a confession. Many of\nmy students had not hesitated to speak of sentiments evoked by the\nsacred traditions and the dim solemnity of the ancient shrines. Really\nthe experience of Asakichi was no more individual than might be a\nsingle ripple in a fathomless sea. He had only uttered the ancestral\nfeeling of a race,--the vague but immeasurable emotion of Shint\u014d.\n\nWe talked on till the soft summer darkness fell. Stars and the\nelectric lights of the citadel twinkled out together; bugles sang;\nand from Kiyomasa's fortress rolled into the night a sound deep as a\nthunder-peal, the chant of ten thousand men:--\n\n    Nishi mo higashi mo\n      Mina teki zo,\n    Minami mo kita mo\n      Mina teki zo:\n    Yose-kura teki wa\n      Shiranuhi no\n    Tsukushi no hate no\n      Satsuma gata.[3]\n\n\"You have learned that song, have you not?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh yes,\" said Asakichi. \"Every soldier knows it.\"\n\nIt was the Kumamoto R\u014dj\u014d, the Song of the Siege. We listened, and could\neven catch some words in that mighty volume of sound:--\n\n    Tenchi mo kuzuru\n      Bakari nari,\n    Tenchi wa kuzure\n      Yama kawa wa\n    Saicuru tameshi no\n      Araba tote,\n    Ugokanu mono wa\n      Kimi ga mi yo.[4]\n\nFor a little while Asakichi sat listening, swaying his shoulders in\ntime to the strong rhythm of the chant; then, as one suddenly waking,\nhe laughed, and said:--\n\n\"Teacher, I must go! I do not know how to thank you enough, nor to tell\nyou how happy this day has been for me. But first,\"--taking from his\nbreast a little envelope,--\"please accept this. You asked me for a\nphotograph long ago: I brought it for a souvenir.\"\n\nHe rose, and buckled on his sword. I pressed his hand at the entrance.\n\n\"And what may I send you from Korea, teacher?\" he asked.\n\n\"Only a letter,\" I said,--\"after the next great victory.\"\n\n\"Surely, if I can hold a pen,\" he responded.\n\nThen straightening up till he looked like a statue of bronze, he gave\nme the formal military salute, and strode away in the dark.\n\nI returned to the desolate guest-room and dreamed. I heard the thunder\nof the soldiers' song. I listened to the roar of the trains, bearing\naway so many young hearts, so much priceless loyalty, so much splendid\nfaith and love and valor, to the fever of Chinese rice-fields, to\ngathering cyclones of death.\n\n\n[1] A sengaji pilgrim is one who makes the pilgrimage to the thousand\nfamous temples of the Nichiren sect; a journey requiring many years to\nperform.\n\n[2] \"What thing (cause) there may he, I cannot tell. But [whenever I\ncome in presence of the shrine] grateful tears overflow.\"\n\n[3] This would be a free translation in nearly the same measure:--\n\n    Oh! the land to south and north\n      All is full of foes!\n    Westward, eastward, looking forth,\n      All is full of foes!\n    None can well the number tell\n      Of the hosts that pour\n    From the strand of Satsuma,\n      From Tsukushi's shore.\n\n\n\n[4]\n\n    What if Earth should sundered he?\n      What if Heaven fall?\n    What if mountain mix with sea?\n      Brave hearts each and all,\n    Know one thing shall still endure,\n      Ruin cannot whelm,\n    Everlasting, holy, pure,--\n      This Imperial Realm.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe evening of the same day that we saw the name \"Kosuga Asakichi\" in\nthe long list published by the local newspaper, Manyemon decorated\nand illuminated the alcove of the guest-room as for a sacred festival;\nfilling the vases with flowers, lighting several small lamps, and\nkindling incense-rods in a little cup of bronze. When all was finished,\nhe called me. Approaching the recess, I saw the lad's photograph\nwithin, set upright on a tiny dai; and before it was spread a miniature\nfeast of rice and fruits and cakes,--the old man's offering.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" ventured Manyemon, \"it would please his spirit if the master\nshould be honorably willing to talk to him. He would understand the\nmaster's English.\"\n\nI did talk to him; and the portrait seemed to smile through the wreaths\nof the incense. But that which I said was for him only, and the Gods.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n\nIN YOKOHAMA\n\n\nA good sight indeed has met us to-day,--a good daybreak,--a beautiful\nrising;--for we have seen the Perfectly Enlightened, who has crossed\nthe stream.--HEMAVATASUTTA.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe Jiz\u014d-D\u014d was not easy to find, being hidden away in a court behind\na street of small shops; and the entrance to the court itself--a very\nnarrow opening between two houses--being veiled at every puff of wind\nby the fluttering sign-drapery of a dealer in second-hand clothing.\n\nBecause of the heat, the sh\u014dji of the little temple had been removed,\nleaving the sanctuary open to view on three sides. I saw the usual\nBuddhist furniture--service-bell, reading-desk, and scarlet lacquered\nmokugy\u014d, disposed upon the yellow matting. The altar supported a stone\nJiz\u014d, wearing a bib for the sake of child ghosts; and above the statue,\nupon a long shelf, were smaller ages gilded and painted,--another\nJiz\u014d, aureoled from head to feet, a radiant Amida, a sweet-faced\nKwannon, and a grewsome figure of the Judge of Souls. Still higher\nwere suspended a confused multitude of votive offerings, including\ntwo framed prints taken from American illustrated papers: a view of\nthe Philadelphia Exhibition, and a portrait of Adelaide Neilson in\nthe character of Juliet. In lieu of the usual flower vases before the\nhorizon there were jars of glass bearing the inscription,--\"_Reine\nClaude au jus; conservation garantie. Toussaint Cosnard: Bordeaux._\"\nAnd the box filled with incense-rods bore the legend: \"_Rich in\nflavor--Pinhead Cigarettes._\" To the innocent folk who gave them,\nand who could never hope in this world to make costlier gifts,\nthese _ex-voto_ seemed beautiful because strange; and in spite of\nincongruities it seemed to me that the little temple did really look\npretty.\n\nA screen, with weird figures of Arhats creating dragons, masked the\nfurther chamber; and the song of an unseen uguisu sweetened the hush\nof the place. A red cat came from behind the screen to look at us,\nand retired again, as if to convey a message. Presently appeared an\naged nun, who welcomed us and bade us enter; her smoothly shaven head\nshining like a moon at every reverence. We doffed our footgear, and\nfollowed her behind the screen, into a little room that opened upon a\ngarden; and we saw the old priest seated upon a cushion, and writing at\na very low table. He laid aside his brush to greet us; and we also took\nour places on cushions before him. Very pleasant his face was to look\nupon: all wrinkles written there by the ebb of life spake of that which\nwas good.\n\nThe nun brought us tea, and sweetmeats stamped with the Wheel of the\nLaw; the red cat curled itself up beside me; and the priest talked to\nus. His voice was deep and gentle; there were bronze tones in it, like\nthe rich murmurings which follow each peal of a temple bell. We coaxed\nhim to tell us about himself. He was eighty-eight years of age, and his\neyes and ears were still as those of a young man; but he could not walk\nbecause of chronic rheumatism. For twenty years he had been occupied in\nwriting a religious history of Japan, to be completed in three hundred\nvolumes; and he had already completed two hundred and thirty. The rest\nhe hoped to write during the coming year. I saw on a small book-shelf\nbehind him the imposing array of neatly bound MSS.\n\n\"But the plan upon which he works,\" said my student interpreter,\n\"is quite wrong. His history will never be published; it is full of\nimpossible stories--miracles and fairy-tales.\"\n\n(I thought I should like to read the stories.)\n\n\"For one who has reached such an age,\" I said, \"you seem very strong.\"\n\n\"The signs are that' I shall live some years longer,\" replied the old\nman, \"though I wish to live only long enough to finish my history.\nThen, as I am helpless and cannot move about, I want to die so as to\nget a new body. I suppose I must have committed some fault in a former\nlife, to be crippled as I am. But I am glad to feel that I am nearing\nthe Shore.\"\n\n\"He means the shore of the Sea of Death and Birth,\" says my\ninterpreter. \"The ship whereby we cross, you know, is the Ship of the\nGood Law; and the farthest shore is Nehan,--Nirvana.\"\n\n\"Are all our bodily weaknesses and misfortunes,\" I asked, \"the results\nof errors committed in other births?\"\n\n\"That which we are,\" the old man answered, \"is the consequence of\nthat which we have been. We say in Japan the consequence of mang\u014d and\ning\u014d,--the two classes of actions.\"\n\n\"Evil and good?\" I queried.\n\n\"Greater and lesser. There are no perfect actions. Every act contains\nboth merit and demerit, just as even the best painting has defects and\nexcellences. But when the sum of good in any action exceeds the sum of\nevil, just as in a good painting the merits outweigh the faults, then\nthe result is progress. And gradually by such progress will all evil be\neliminated.\"\n\n\"But how,\" I asked, \"can the result of actions affect the physical\nconditions? The child follows the way of his fathers, inherits their\nstrength or their weakness; yet not from them does he receive his\nsoul.\"\n\n\"The chain of causes and effects is not easy to explain in a few words.\nTo understand all you should study the Dai-j\u014d or Greater Vehicle; also\nthe Sh\u014d-j\u014d, or Lesser Vehicle. There you will learn that the world\nitself exists only because of acts. Even as one learning to write,\nat first writes only with great difficulty, but afterward, becoming\nskillful, writes without knowledge of any effort, so the tendency of\nacts continually repeated is to form habit. And such tendencies persist\nfar beyond this life.\"\n\n\"Can any man obtain the power to remember his former births?\"\n\n\"That is very rare,\" the old man answered, shaking his head. \"To have\nsuch memory one should first become a Bosatsu [Bodhissattva].\"\n\n\"Is it not possible to become a Bosatsu?\"\n\n\"Not in this age. This is the Period of Corruption. First there was\nthe Period of True Doctrine, when life was long; and after it came the\nPeriod of Images, during which men departed from the highest truth;\nand now the world is degenerate. It is not now possible by good deeds\nto become a Buddha, because the world is too corrupt and life is\ntoo short. But devout persons may attain the Gokuraku [Paradise] by\nvirtue of merit, and by constantly repeating the Nembutsu; and in the\nGokuraku, they may be able to practice the true doctrine. For the days\nare longer there, and life also is very long.\"\n\n\"I have read in our translations of the Sutras,\" I said, \"that by\nvirtue of good deeds men may be reborn in happier and yet happier\nconditions successively, each time obtaining more perfect faculties,\neach time surrounded by higher joys. Riches are spoken of, and strength\nand beauty, and graceful women, and all that people desire in this\ntemporary world. Wherefore I cannot help thinking that the way of\nprogress must continually grow more difficult the further one proceeds.\nFor if these texts be true, the more one succeeds in detaching one's\nself from the things of the senses, the more powerful become the\ntemptations to return to them. So that the reward of virtue would seem\nitself to be made an obstacle in the path.\"\n\n\"Not so!\" replied the old man. \"They, who by self-mastery reach such\nconditions of temporary happiness, have gained spiritual force also,\nand some knowledge of truth. Their strength to conquer themselves\nincreases more and more with every triumph, until they reach at\nlast that world of Apparitional Birth, in which the lower forms of\ntemptation have no existence.\"\n\nThe red cat stirred uneasily at a sound of geta, then went to the\nentrance, followed by the nun. There were some visitors waiting; and\nthe priest begged us to excuse him a little while, that he might attend\nto their spiritual wants. We made place quickly for them, and they came\nin,--poor pleasant folk, who saluted us kindly: a mother bereaved,\ndesiring to have prayers said for the happiness of her little dead boy;\na young wife to obtain the pity of the Buddha for her ailing husband; a\nfather and daughter to seek divine help for somebody that had gone very\nfar away. The priest spoke caressingly to all, giving to the mother\nsome little prints of Jiz\u014d, giving a paper of blest rice to the wife,\nand on behalf of the father and daughter, preparing some holy texts.\nInvoluntarily there came to me the idea of all the countless innocent\nprayers thus being daily made in countless temples; the idea of all\nthe fears and hopes and heartaches of simple love; the idea of all\nthe humble sorrows unheard by any save the gods. The student began to\nexamine the old man's books, and I began to think of the unthinkable.\n\nLife--life as unity, uncreated, without beginning,--of which we know\nthe luminous shadows only;--life forever striving against death, and\nalways conquered yet always surviving--what is it?--why is it? A myriad\ntimes the universe is dissipated,--a myriad times again evolved; and\nthe same life vanishes with every vanishing, only to reappear in\nanother cycling. The Cosmos becomes a nebula, the nebula a Cosmos:\neternally the swarms of suns and worlds are born; eternally they die.\nBut after each tremendous integration the flaming spheres cool down and\nripen into life; and the life ripens into Thought. The ghost in each\none of us must have passed through the burning of a million suns,--must\nsurvive the awful vanishing of countless future universes. May not\nMemory somehow and somewhere also survive? Are we sure that in ways\nand forms unknowable it does not? as infinite vision,--remembrance of\nthe Future in the Past? Perhaps in the Night-without-end, as in deeps\nof Nirvana, dreams of all that has ever been, of all that can ever be,\nare being perpetually dreamed.\n\nThe parishioners uttered their thanks, made their little offerings to\nJiz\u014d, and retired, saluting us as they went. We resumed our former\nplaces beside the little writing-table, and the old man said:--\n\n\"It is the priest, perhaps, who among all men best knows what sorrow is\nin the world. I have heard that in the countries of the West there is\nalso much suffering, although the Western nations are so rich.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I made answer; \"and I think that in Western countries there\nis more unhappiness than in Japan. For the rich there are larger\npleasures, but for the poor greater pains. Our life is much more\ndifficult to live; and, perhaps for that reason, our thoughts are more\ntroubled by the mystery of the world.\"\n\nThe priest seemed interested, but said nothing. With the interpreter's\nhelp, I continued:--\n\n\"There are three great questions by which the minds of many men in the\nWestern countries are perpetually tormented. These questions we call\n'the Whence, the Whither, and the Why,' meaning, Whence Life? Whither\ndoes it go? Why does it exist and suffer? Our highest Western Science\ndeclares them riddles impossible to solve, yet confesses at the same\ntime that the heart of man can find no peace till they are solved.\nAll religions have attempted explanations; and all their explanations\nare different. I have searched Buddhist books for answers to these\nquestions, and I found answers which seemed to me better than any\nothers. Still, they did not satisfy me, being incomplete. From your own\nlips I hope to obtain some answers to the first and the third questions\nat least. I do not ask for proof or for arguments of any kind: I ask\nonly to know doctrine. Was the beginning of all things in universal\nMind?\"\n\nTo this question I really expected no definite answer, having, in the\nSutra called Sabb\u00e2sava, read about \"those things which ought not to\nbe considered,\" and about the Six Absurd Notions, and the words of the\nrebuke to such as debate within themselves: \"_This is a being: whence\ndid it come? whither will it go?_\" But the answer came, measured and\nmusical, like a chant:--\n\n\"All things considered as individual have come into being, through\nforms innumerable of development and reproduction, out of the universal\nMind. Potentially within that mind they had existed from eternity.\nBut between that we call Mind and that we call Substance there is no\ndifference of essence. What we name Substance is only the sum of our\nown sensations and perceptions; and these themselves are but phenomena\nof Mind. Of Substance-in-itself we have not any knowledge. We know\nnothing beyond the phases of our mind, and these phases are wrought in\nit by outer influence or power, to which we give the name Substance.\nBut Substance and Mind in themselves are only two phases of one\ninfinite Entity.\"\n\n\"There are Western teachers also,\" I said, \"who teach a like doctrine;\nand the most profound researches of our modern science seem to\ndemonstrate that what we term Matter has no absolute existence. But\nconcerning that infinite Entity of which you speak, is there any\nBuddhist teaching as to when and how It first produced those two forms\nwhich in name we still distinguish as Mind and Substance?\"\n\n\"Buddhism,\" the old priest answered, \"does not teach, as other\nreligions do, that things have been produced by creation. The one and\nonly Reality is the universal Mind, called in Japanese Shinnyo,[1]--the\nReality-in-its-very-self, infinite and eternal. Now this infinite\nMind within Itself beheld Its own sentiency. And, even as one who in\nhallucination assumes apparitions to be actualities, so the universal\nEntity took for external existences that which It beheld only within\nItself. We call this illusion Mu-myo,[2] signifying 'without radiance,'\nor 'void of illumination.'\"\n\n\"The word has been translated by some Western scholars,\" I observed,\n\"as Ignorance.'\"\n\n\"So I have been told. But the idea conveyed by the word we use is not\nthe idea expressed by the term 'ignorance.' It is rather the idea of\nenlightenment misdirected, or of illusion.\"\n\n\"And what has been taught,\" I asked, concerning the time of that\nillusion?\"\n\n\"The time of the primal illusion is said to be Mu-shi, 'beyond\nbeginning,' in the incalculable past. From Shinnyo emanated the first\ndistinction of the Self and the Not-Self, whence have arisen all\nindividual existences, whether of Spirit or of Substance, and all those\npassions and desires, likewise, which influence the conditions of being\nthrough countless births. Thus the universe is the emanation of the\ninfinite Entity; yet it cannot be said that we are the creations of\nthat Entity. The original Self of each of us is the universal Mind; and\nwithin each of us the universal Self exists, together with the effects\nof the primal illusion. And this state of the original Self enwrapped\nin the results of illusion, we call Ny\u014drai-z\u014d,[3] or the Womb of the\nBuddha. The end for which we should all strive is simply our return to\nthe infinite Original Self, which is the essence of Buddha.\"\n\n\"There is another subject of doubt,\" I said, \"about which I much\ndesire to know the teaching of Buddhism. Our Western science declares\nthat the visible universe has been evolved and dissolved successively\ninnumerable times during the infinite past, and must also vanish and\nreappear through countless cycles in the infinite future. In our\ntranslations of the ancient Indian philosophy, and of the sacred texts\nof the Buddhists, the same thing is declared. But is it not also\ntaught that there shall come at last for all things a time of ultimate\nvanishing and of perpetual rest?\"\n\nHe answered: \"The Sh\u014d-j\u014d indeed teaches that the universe has appeared\nand disappeared over and over again, times beyond reckoning in the\npast, and that it must continue to be alternately dissolved and\nreformed through unimaginable eternities to come. But we are also\ntaught that all things shall enter finally and forever, into the state\nof Nehan.\"[4]\n\nAn irreverent yet irrepressible fancy suddenly arose within me. I could\nnot help thinking of Absolute Rest as expressed by the scientific\nformula of two hundred and seventy-four degrees (centigrade) below\nzero, or 461\u00b0.2 Fahrenheit. But I only said:--\n\n\"For the Western mind it is difficult to think of absolute rest as a\ncondition of bliss. Does the Buddhist idea of Nehan include the idea of\ninfinite stillness, of universal immobility?\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the priest. \"Nehan is the condition of Absolute\nSelf-sufficiency, the state of all-knowing, all-perceiving. We do\nnot suppose it a state of total inaction, but the supreme condition\nof freedom from all restraint. It is true that we cannot imagine a\nbodiless condition of perception or knowledge; because all our ideas\nand sensations belong to the condition of the body. But we believe that\nNehan is the state of infinite vision and infinite wisdom and infinite\nspiritual peace.\"\n\nThe red cat leaped upon the priest's knees, and there curled itself\ninto a posture of lazy comfort. The old man caressed it; and my\ncompanion observed, with a little laugh:--\n\n\"See how fat it is! Perhaps it may have performed some good deeds in a\nprevious life.\"\n\n\"Do the conditions of animals,\" I asked, \"also depend upon merit and\ndemerit in previous existences?\"\n\nThe priest answered me seriously:--\n\n\"All conditions of being depend upon conditions pre\u00ebxisting, and Life\nis One. To be born into the world of men is fortunate; there we have\nsome enlightenment, and chances of gaining merit. But the state of\nan animal is a state of obscurity of mind, deserving our pity and\nbenevolence. No animal can be considered truly fortunate; yet even in\nthe life of animals there are countless differences of condition.\"\n\nA little silence followed,--softly broken by the purring of the cat. I\nlooked at the picture of Adelaide Neilson, just visible above the top\nof the screen; and I thought of Juliet, and wondered what the priest\nwould say about Shakespeare's wondrous story of passion and sorrow,\nwere I able to relate it worthily in Japanese. Then suddenly, like an\nanswer to that wonder, came a memory of the two hundred and fifteenth\nverse of the Dhammapada: \"_From love comes grief; from grief comes\nfear: one who is free from love knows neither grief nor fear._\"\n\n\"Does Buddhism,\" I asked, \"teach that all sexual love ought to be\nsuppressed? Is such love of necessity a hindrance to enlightenment?\nI know that Buddhist priests, excepting those of the Shin-sh\u016b, are\nforbidden to marry; but I do not know what is the teaching concerning\ncelibacy and marriage among the laity.\"\n\n\"Marriage may be either a hindrance or a help on the Path,\" the old\nman said, \"according to conditions. All depends upon conditions. If\nthe love of wife and child should cause a man to become too much\nattached to the temporary advantages of this unhappy world, then such\nlove would be a hindrance. But, on the contrary, if the love of wife\nand child should enable a man to live more purely and more unselfishly\nthan he could do in a state of celibacy, then marriage would be a very\ngreat help to him in the Perfect Way. Many are the dangers of marriage\nfor the wise; but for those of little understanding the dangers of\ncelibacy are greater. And even the illusion of passion may sometimes\nlead noble natures to the higher knowledge. There is a story of this.\nDai-Mokukenren,[5] whom the people call Mokuren, was a disciple of\nShaka.[6] He was a very comely man; and a girl became enamored of him.\nAs he belonged already to the Order, she despaired of being ever able\nto have him for her husband; and she grieved in secret. But at last she\nfound courage to go to the Lord Buddha, and to speak all her heart to\nhim. Even while she was speaking, he cast a deep sleep upon her; and\nshe dreamed she was the happy wife of Mokuren. Years of contentment\nseemed to pass in her dream; and after them years of joy and sorrow\nmingled; and suddenly her husband was taken away from her by death.\nThen she knew such sorrow that she wondered how she could live; and\nshe awoke in that pain, and saw the Buddha smile. And he said to her:\n'Little Sister, thou hast seen. Choose now as thou wilt,--either to\nbe the bride of Mokuren, or to seek the higher Way upon which he\nhas entered.' Then she cut off her hair, and became a nun, and in\nafter-time attained to the condition of one never to be reborn.\"\n\nFor a moment it seemed to me that the story did not show how love's\nillusion could lead to self-conquest; that the girl's conversion\nwas only the direct result of painful knowledge forced upon her,\nnot a consequence of her love. But presently I reflected that the\nvision accorded her could have produced no high result in a selfish\nor unworthy soul. I thought of disadvantages unspeakable which the\npossession of foreknowledge might involve in the present order of life;\nand felt it was a blessed thing for most of us that the future shaped\nitself behind a veil. Then I dreamed that the power to lift that veil\nmight be evolved or won, just so soon as such a faculty should be of\nreal benefit to men, but not before; and I asked:--\n\n\"Can the power to see the Future be obtained through enlightenment?\"\n\nThe priest answered:--\n\n\"Yes. When we reach that state of enlightenment in which we obtain\nthe Roku-Jindz\u016b, or Six Mysterious Faculties, then we can see the\nFuture as well as the Past. Such power comes at the same time as the\npower of remembering former births. But to attain to that condition of\nknowledge, in the present age of the world, is very difficult.\"\n\nMy companion made me a stealthy sign that it was time to say good-by.\nWe had stayed rather long--even by the measure of Japanese etiquette,\nwhich is generous to a fault in these matters. I thanked the master of\nthe temple for his kindness in replying to my fantastic questions, and\nventured to add:--\n\n\"There are a hundred other things about which I should like to ask you,\nbut to-day I have taken too much of your time. May I come again?\"\n\n\"It will make me very happy,\" he said. \"Be pleased to come again as\nsoon as you desire. I hope you will not fail to ask about all things\nwhich are still obscure to you. It is by earnest inquiry that truth may\nbe known and illusions dispelled. Nay, come often--that I may speak to\nyou of the Sh\u014d-j\u014d. And these I pray you to accept.\"\n\nHe gave me two little packages. One contained white sand--sand from\nthe holy temple of Zenk\u014dji, whither all good souls make pilgrimage\nafter death. The other contained a very small white stone, said to be a\nshari, or relic of the body of a Buddha.\n\nI hoped to visit the kind old man many times again. But a school\ncontract took me out of the city and over the mountains; and I saw him\nno more.\n\n\n[1] Sanscrit: _Bh\u00fbta-Tathat\u00e2._\n\n[2] Sanscrit: _Avidya._\n\n[3] Sanscrit: Tath\u00e2gata-gharba. The term \"Tath\u00e2gata\" (Japanese Ny\u014drai)\nis the highest title of a Buddha. It signifies \"One whose coming is\nlike the coming of his predecessors.\"\n\n[4] Nirvana.\n\n[5] Sanscrit: _Mah\u00e2maudgaly\u00e2yana._\n\n[6] The Japanese rendering of Sakyamuni.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nFive years, all spent far away from treaty ports, slowly flitted by\nbefore I saw the Jiz\u014d-D\u014d again. Many changes had taken place both\nwithout and within me during that time. The beautiful illusion of\nJapan, the almost weird charm that comes with one's first entrance into\nher magical atmosphere, had, indeed, stayed with me very long, but had\ntotally faded out at last. I had learned to see the Far East without\nits glamour. And I had mourned not a little for the sensations of the\npast.\n\nBut one day they all came back to me--just for a moment. I was in\nYokohama, gazing once more from the Bluff at the divine spectre\nof Fuji haunting the April morning. In that enormous spring blaze\nof blue light, the feeling of my first Japanese day returned, the\nfeeling of my first delighted wonder in the radiance of an unknown\nfairy-world full of beautiful riddles,--an Elf-land having a special\nsun and a tinted atmosphere of its own. Again I knew myself steeped\nin a dream of luminous peace; again all visible things assumed for\nme a delicious immateriality. Again the Orient heaven--flecked only\nwith thinnest white ghosts of cloud, all shadowless as Souls entering\ninto Nirvana--became for me the very sky of Buddha; and the colors of\nthe morning seemed deepening into those of the traditional hour of\nHis birth, when trees long dead burst into blossom, and winds were\nperfumed, and all creatures living found themselves possessed of loving\nhearts. The air seemed pregnant with even such a vague sweetness, as if\nthe Teacher were about to come again; and all faces passing seemed to\nsmile with premonition of the celestial advent.\n\nThen the ghostliness went away, and things looked earthly; and I\nthought of all the illusions I had known, and of the illusions of the\nworld as Life, and of the universe itself as illusion. Whereupon the\nname Mu-myo returned to memory; and I was moved immediately to seek the\nancient thinker of the Jiz\u014d-D\u014d.\n\nThe quarter had been much changed: old houses had vanished, and new\nones dovetailed wondrously together. I discovered the court at last\nnevertheless, and saw the little temple just as I had remembered it.\nBefore the entrance women were standing; and a young priest I had\nnever seen before was playing with a baby; and the small brown hands\nof the infant were stroking his shaven face. It was a kindly face, and\nintelligent, with very long eyes.\n\n\"Five years ago,\" I said to him, in clumsy Japanese, \"I visited this\ntemple. In that time there was an aged bonsan here.\"\n\nThe young bonsan gave the baby into the arms of one who seemed to be\nits mother, and responded:--\n\n\"Yes. He died--that old priest; and I am now in his place. Honorably\nplease to enter.\"\n\nI entered. The little sanctuary no longer looked interesting: all\nits innocent prettiness was gone. Jiz\u014d still smiled over his bib;\nbut the other divinities had disappeared, and likewise many votive\nofferings--including the picture of Adelaide Neilson. The priest tried\nto make me comfortable in the chamber where the old man used to write,\nand set a smoking-box before me. I looked for the books in the corner;\nthey also had vanished. Everything seemed to have been changed.\n\nI asked:--\n\n\"When did he die?\"\n\n\"Only last winter,\" replied the incumbent, \"in the Period of Greatest\nCold. As he could not move his feet, he suffered much from the cold.\nThis is his ihai.\"\n\nHe went to an alcove containing shelves incumbered with a bewilderment\nof objects indescribable,--old wrecks, perhaps, of sacred things,--and\nopened the doors of a very small butsudan, placed between glass jars\nfull of flowers. Inside I saw the mortuary tablet,--fresh black\nlacquer and gold. He lighted a lamplet before it, set a rod of incense\nsmouldering, and said:--\n\n\"Pardon my rude absence a little while; for there are parishioners\nwaiting.\"\n\nSo left alone, I looked at the ihai and watched the steady flame of\nthe tiny lamp and the blue, slow, upcurlings of incense,--wondering if\nthe spirit of the old priest was there. After a moment I felt as if\nhe really were, and spoke to him without words. Then I noticed that\nthe flower vases on either side of the butsudan still bore the name of\nToussaint Cosnard of Bordeaux, and that the incense-box maintained its\nfamiliar legend of richly flavored cigarettes. Looking about the room\nI also perceived the red cat, fast asleep in a sunny corner. I went to\nit, and stroked it; but it knew me not, and scarcely opened its drowsy\neyes. It was sleeker than ever, and seemed happy. Near the entrance I\nheard a plaintive murmuring; then the voice of the priest, reiterating\nsympathetically some half-comprehended answer to his queries: \"_A woman\nof nineteen, yes. And a man of twenty-seven,--is it?_\" Then I rose to\ngo.\n\n\"Pardon,\" said the priest, looking up from his writing, while the poor\nwomen saluted me, \"yet one little moment more!\"\n\n\"Nay,\" I answered; \"I would not interrupt you. I came only to see the\nold man, and I have seen his ihai. This, my little offering, was for\nhim. Please to accept it for yourself.\"\n\n\"Will you not wait a moment, that I may know your name?\"\n\n\"Perhaps I shall come again,\" I said evasively. \"Is the old nun also\ndead?\"\n\n\"Oh no! she is still taking care of the temple. She has gone out, but\nwill presently return. Will you not wait? Do you wish nothing?\"\n\n\"Only a prayer,\" I answered. \"My name makes no difference. A man of\nforty-four. Pray that he may obtain whatever is best for him.\"\n\nThe priest wrote something down. Certainly that which I had bidden him\npray for was not the wish of my \"heart of hearts.\" But I knew the Lord\nBuddha would never hearken to any foolish prayer for the return of lost\nillusions.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nYUKO: A REMINISCENCE\n\n\nMEIJI, xxiv, 5. MAY, 1891\n\nWho shall find a valiant woman?--far and from the uttermost coasts is\nthe price of her.--_Vulgate._\n\n\n\"_Tenshi-Sama go-shimpai._\" The Son of Heaven augustly sorrows.\n\nStrange stillness in the city, a solemnity as of public mourning. Even\nitinerant venders utter their street cries in a lower tone than is\ntheir wont. The theatres, usually thronged from early morning until\nlate into the night, are all closed. Closed also every pleasure-resort,\nevery show--even the flower-displays. Closed likewise all the\nbanquet-halls. Not even the tinkle of a samisen can be heard in the\nsilent quarters of the geisha. There are no revelers in the great inns;\nthe guests talk in subdued voices. Even the faces one sees upon the\nstreet have ceased to wear the habitual smile; and placards announce\nthe indefinite postponement of banquets and entertainments.\n\nSuch public depression might follow the news of some great calamity or\nnational peril,--a terrible earthquake, the destruction of the capital,\na declaration of war. Yet there has been actually nothing of all\nthis,--only the announcement that the Emperor sorrows; and in all the\nthousand cities of the land, the signs and tokens of public mourning\nare the same, expressing the deep sympathy of the nation with its\nsovereign.\n\nAnd following at once upon this immense sympathy comes the universal\nspontaneous desire to repair the wrong, to make all possible\ncompensation for the injury done. This manifests itself in countless\nways mostly straight from the heart, and touching in their simplicity.\nFrom almost everywhere and everybody, letters and telegrams of\ncondolence, and curious gifts, are forwarded to the Imperial guest.\nRich and poor strip themselves of their most valued heirlooms, their\nmost precious household treasures, to offer them to the wounded Prince.\nInnumerable messages also are being prepared to send to the Czar,--and\nall this by private individuals, spontaneously. A nice old merchant\ncalls upon me to request that I should compose for him a telegram in\nFrench, expressing the profound grief of all the citizens for the\nattack upon the Czarevitch,--a telegram to the Emperor of all the\nRussias. I do the best I can for him, but protest my total inexperience\nin the wording of telegrams to high and mighty personages. \"Oh! that\nwill not matter,\" he makes answer; \"we shall send it to the Japanese\nMinister at St. Petersburg: he will correct any mistakes as to form.\" I\nask him if he is aware of the cost of such a message. He has correctly\nestimated it as something over one hundred yen, a very large sum for a\nsmall Matsue merchant to disburse.\n\nSome grim old samurai show their feelings about the occurrence in a\nless gentle manner. The high official intrusted with the safety of\nthe Czarevitch at Otsu receives, by express, a fine sword and a stem\nletter bidding him prove his manhood and his regret like a sa murai, by\nperforming harakiri immediately.\n\nFor this people, like its own Shint\u014d gods, has various souls: it\nhas its Nigi-mi-tama and its Ara-mi-tama, its Gentle and its Rough\nSpirit. The Gentle Spirit seeks only to make reparation; but the Rough\nSpirit demands expiation. And now through the darkening atmosphere of\nthe popular life, everywhere is felt the strange thrilling of these\nopposing impulses, as of two electricities.\n\nFar away in Kanagawa, in the dwelling of a wealthy family, there is a\nyoung girl, a serving-maid, named Yuko, a samurai name of other days,\nsignifying \"valiant.\"\n\nForty millions are sorrowing, but she more than all the rest. How\nand why no Western mind could fully know. Her being is ruled by\nemotions and by impulses of which we can guess the nature only in\nthe vaguest possible way. Something of the soul of a good Japanese\ngirl we can know. Love is there--potentially, very deep and still.\nInnocence also, insusceptible of taint--that whose Buddhist symbol is\nthe lotus-flower. Sensitiveness likewise, delicate as the earliest\nsnow of plum-blossoms. Fine scorn of death is there--her samurai\ninheritance--hidden under a gentleness soft as music. Religion is\nthere, very real and very simple,--a faith of the heart, holding the\nBuddhas and the Gods for friends, and unafraid to ask them for anything\nof which Japanese courtesy allows the asking. But these, and many other\nfeelings, are supremely dominated by one emotion impossible to express\nin any Western tongue--something for which the word \"loyalty\" were an\nutterly dead rendering, something akin rather to that which we call\nmystical exaltation: a sense of uttermost reverence and devotion to\nthe Tenshi-Sama. Now this is much more than any individual feeling.\nIt is the moral power and will undying of a ghostly multitude whose\nprocession stretches back out of her life into the absolute night of\nforgotten time. She herself is but a spirit-chamber, haunted by a past\nutterly unlike our own,--a past in which, through centuries uncounted,\nall lived and felt and thought as one, in ways which never were as our\nways.\n\n\"_Tenshi-Sama go-shimpai._\" A burning shock of desire to give was\nthe instant response of the girl's heart--desire over powering, yet\nhopeless, since she owned nothing, unless the veriest trifle saved from\nher wages. But the longing remains, leaves her no rest. In the night\nshe thinks; asks herself questions which the dead answer for her. \"What\ncan I give that the sorrow of the August may cease?\" \"Thyself,\" respond\nvoices without sound. \"But can I?\" she queries wonderingly. \"Thou hast\nno living parent,\" they reply; \"neither does it belong to thee to make\nthe offerings. Be thou our sacrifice. To give life for the August One\nis the highest duty, the highest joy.\" \"And in what place?\" she asks.\n\"Saiky\u014d,\" answer the silent voices; \"in the gateway of those who by\nancient custom should have died.\"\n\nDawn breaks; and Yuko rises to make obeisance to the sun. She fulfills\nher first morning duties; she requests and obtains leave of absence.\nThen she puts on her prettiest robe, her brightest girdle, her whitest\ntabi, that she may look worthy to give her life for the Tenshi-Sama.\nAnd in another hour she is journeying to Ky\u014dto. From the train window\nshe watches the gliding of the landscapes. Very sweet the day is;--all\ndistances, blue-toned with drowsy vapors of spring, are good to look\nupon. She sees the loveliness of the land as her fathers saw it, but as\nno Western eyes can see it, save in the weird, queer charm of the old\nJapanese picture-books. She feels the delight of life, but dreams not\nat all of the possible future preciousness of that life for herself.\nNo sorrow follows the thought that after her passing the world will\nremain as beautiful as before. No Buddhist melancholy weighs upon\nher: she trusts herself utterly to the ancient gods. They smile upon\nher from the dusk of their holy groves, from their immemorial shrines\nupon the backward fleeing hills. And one, perhaps, is with her: he who\nmakes the grave seem fairer than the palace to those who fear not; he\nwhom the people call Shinigami, the lord of death-desire. For her the\nfuture holds no blackness. Always she will see the rising of the holy\nSun above the peaks, the smile of the Lady-Moon upon the waters, the\neternal magic of the Seasons. She will haunt the places of beauty,\nbeyond the folding of the mists, in the sleep of the cedar-shadows,\nthrough circling of innumerable years. She will know a subtler life, in\nthe faint winds that stir the snow of the flowers of the cherry, in the\nlaughter of playing waters, in every happy whisper of the vast green\nsilences. But first she will greet her kindred, somewhere in shadowy\nhalls awaiting her coming to say to her: \"_Thou hast done well,--like a\ndaughter of samurai. Enter, child! because of thee to-night we sup with\nthe Gods!_\"\n\nIt is daylight when the girl reaches Ky\u014dto. She finds a lodging, and\nseeks the house of a skillful female hairdresser.\n\n\"Please to make it very sharp,\" says Yuko, giving the kamiyui a very\nsmall razor (article indispensable of a lady's toilet); \"and I shall\nwait here till it is ready.\" She unfolds a freshly bought newspaper\nand looks for the latest news from the capital; while the shop-folk\ngaze curiously, wondering at the serious pretty manner which forbids\nfamiliarity. Her face is placid like a child's; but old ghosts stir\nrestlessly in her heart, as she reads again of the Imperial sorrow. \"I\nalso wish it were the hour,\" is her answering thought. \"But we must\nwait.\" At last she receives the tiny blade in faultless order, pays the\ntrifle ashed, and returns to her inn.\n\nThere she writes two letters: a farewell to her brother, an\nirreproachable appeal to the high officials of the City of Emperors,\npraying that the Tenshi-Sama may be petitioned to cease from sorrowing,\nseeing that a young life, even though unworthy, has been given in\nvoluntary expiation of the wrong.\n\nWhen she goes out again it is that hour of heaviest darkness which\nprecedes the dawn; and there is a silence as of cemeteries. Few and\nfaint are the lamps; strangely loud the sound of her little geta. Only\nthe stars look upon her.\n\nSoon the deep gate of the Government edifice is before her. Into the\nhollow shadow she slips, whispers a prayer, and kneels. Then, according\nto ancient rule, she takes off her long under-girdle of strong soft\nsilk, and with it binds her robes tightly about her, making the knot\njust above her knees. For no matter what might happen in the instant\nof blind agony, the daughter of a samurai must be found in death with\nlimbs decently composed. And then, with steady precision, she makes in\nher throat a gash, out of which the blood leaps in a pulsing jet. A\nsamurai girl does not blunder in these matters: she knows the place of\nthe arteries and the veins.\n\nAt sunrise the police find her, quite cold, and the two letters, and a\npoor little purse containing five yen and a few sen (enough, she had\nhoped, for her burial); and they take her and all her small belongings\naway.\n\nThen by lightning the story is told at once to a hundred cities.\n\nThe great newspapers of the capital receive it; and cynical journalists\nimagine vain things, and try to discover common motives for that\nsacrifice: a secret shame, a family sorrow, some disappointed love. But\nno; in all her simple life there had been nothing hidden, nothing weak,\nnothing unworthy; the bud of the lotus unfolded were less virgin. So\nthe cynics write about her only noble things, befitting the daughter of\na samurai.\n\nThe Son of Heaven hears, and knows how his people love him, and\naugustly ceases to mourn.\n\nThe Ministers hear, and whisper to one another, within the shadow of\nthe Throne: \"All else will change; but the heart of the nation will not\nchange.\"\n\nNevertheless, for high reasons of State, the State pretends not to know.","title":"\"Out of the East\": Reveries and Studies in New Japan","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":63331}