{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8882/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8882","id":"gutenberg_8882","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8882","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Folklore -- Japan","Japan -- Civilization","Japan -- Social life and customs"],"text":"Produced by Liz Warren\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nKOKORO\n\nBY\n\nLAFCADIO HEARN\n\n\n\n\nTHE papers composing this volume treat of the inner rather than\nof the outer life of Japan,--for which reason they have been\ngrouped under the title Kokoro (heart). Written with the above\ncharacter, this word signifies also mind, in the emotional sense;\nspirit; courage; resolve; sentiment; affection; and inner\nmeaning,--just as we say in English, \"the heart of things.\"\n\nKOBE September 15, 1895.\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nI.  AT A RAILWAY STATION\nII. THE GENIUS Of JAPANESE CIVILIZATION\nIII. A STREET SINGER\nIV. FROM A TRAVELING DIARY\nV. THE NUN OF THE TEMPLE OF AMIDA\nVI. AFTER THE WAR\nVII. HARU\nVIII. A GLIMPSE OF TENDENCIES\nIX. BY FORCE OF KARMA\nX. A CONSERVATIVE\nXI. IN THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS\nXII. THE IDEA OF PRE-EXISTENCE\nXIII. IN CHOLERA-TIME\nXIV. SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT ANCESTOR-WORSHIP\nXV. KIMIKO\nAPPENDIX. THREE POPULAR BALLADS\n\n\n\nKOKORO\n\nI\n\nAT A RAILWAY STATION\n\nSeventh day of the sixth Month;--\ntwenty-sixth of Meiji.\n\nYesterday a telegram from Fukuoka announced that a desperate\ncriminal captured there would be brought for trial to Kumamoto\nto-day, on the train due at noon. A Kumamoto policeman had gone\nto Fukuoka to take the prisoner in charge.\n\nFour years ago a strong thief entered some house by night in the\nStreet of the Wrestlers, terrified and bound the inmates, and\ncarried away a number of valuable things. Tracked skillfully by\nthe police, he was captured within twenty-four hours,--even\nbefore he could dispose of his plunder. But as he was being taken\nto the police station he burst his bonds, snatched the sword of\nhis captor, killed him, and escaped. Nothing more was heard of\nhim until last week.\n\nThen a Kumamoto detective, happening to visit the Fukuoka prison,\nsaw among the toilers a face that had been four years\nphotographed upon his brain. \"Who is that man?\" he asked the\nguard. \"A thief,\" was the reply,--\"registered here as Kusabe.\"\nThe detective walked up to the prisoner and said:--\n\n\"Kusabe is not your name. Nomura Teichi, you are needed in\nKumamoto for murder.\" The felon confessed all.\n\n\nI went with a great throng of people to witness the arrival at\nthe station. I expected to hear and see anger; I even feared\npossibilities of violence. The murdered officer had been much\nliked; his relatives would certainly be among the spectators; and\na Kumamoto crowd is not very gentle. I also thought to find many\npolice on duty. My anticipations were wrong.\n\nThe train halted in the usual scene of hurry and noise,--scurry\nand clatter of passengers wearing geta,--screaming of boys\nwanting to sell Japanese newspapers and Kumamoto lemonade.\nOutside the barrier we waited for nearly five minutes. Then,\npushed through the wicket by a police-sergeant, the prisoner\nappeared,--a large wild-looking man, with head bowed down, and\narms fastened behind his back. Prisoner and guard both halted in\nfront of the wicket; and the people pressed forward to see--but\nin silence. Then the officer called out,--\n\n\"Sugihara San! Sugihara O-Kibi! is she present?\"\n\nA slight small woman standing near me, with a child on her back,\nanswered, \"Hai!\" and advanced through the press. This was the\nwidow of the murdered man; the child she carried was his son. At\na wave of the officer's hand the crowd fell back, so as to leave\na clear space about the prisoner and his escort. In that space\nthe woman with the child stood facing the murderer. The hush was\nof death.\n\nNot to the woman at all, but to the child only, did the officer\nthen speak. He spoke low, but so clearly that I could catch every\nsyllable:--\n\n\"Little one, this is the man who killed your father four years\nago. You had not yet been born; you were in your mother's womb.\nThat you have no father to love you now is the doing of this man.\nLook at him--[here the officer, putting a hand to the prisoner's\nchin, sternly forced him to lift his eyes]--look well at him,\nlittle boy! Do not be afraid. It is painful; but it is your duty.\nLook at him!\"\n\nOver the mother's shoulder the boy gazed with eyes widely open,\nas in fear; then he began to sob; then tears came; but steadily\nand obediently he still looked--looked--looked--straight into the\ncringing face.\n\nThe crowd seemed to have stopped breathing.\n\nI saw the prisoner's features distort; I saw him suddenly dash\nhimself down upon his knees despite his fetters, and beat his\nface into the dust, crying out the while in a passion of hoarse\nremorse that made one's heart shake:--\n\n\"Pardon! pardon! pardon me, little one! That I did--not for hate\nwas it done, but in mad fear only, in my desire to escape. Very,\nvery wicked have I been; great unspeakable wrong have I done you!\nBut now for my sin I go to die. I wish to die; I am glad to die!\nTherefore, O little one, be pitiful!--forgive me!\"\n\nThe child still cried silently. The officer raised the shaking\ncriminal; the dumb crowd parted left and right to let them by.\nThen, quite suddenly, the whole multitude began to sob. And as\nthe bronzed guardian passed, I saw what I had never seen before,\n--what few men ever see,--what I shall probably never see again,\n--the tears of a Japanese policeman.\n\nThe crowd ebbed, and left me musing on the strange morality of\nthe spectacle. Here was justice unswerving yet compassionate,--\nforcing knowledge of a crime by the pathetic witness of its\nsimplest result. Here was desperate remorse, praying only for\npardon before death. And here was a populace--perhaps the most\ndangerous in the Empire when angered--comprehending all, touched\nby all, satisfied with the contrition and the shame, and filled,\nnot with wrath, but only with the great sorrow of the\nsin,--through simple deep experience of the difficulties of life\nand the weaknesses of human nature.\n\nBut the most significant, because the most Oriental, fact of the\nepisode was that the appeal to remorse had been made through the\ncriminal's sense of fatherhood,--that potential love of children\nwhich is so large a part of the soul of every Japanese.\n\nThere is a story that the most famous of all Japanese robbers,\nIshikawa Goemon, once by night entering a house to kill and\nsteal, was charmed by the smile of a baby which reached out hands\nto him, and that he remained playing with the little creature\nuntil all chance of carrying out his purpose was lost.\n\nIt is not hard to believe this story. Every year the police\nrecords tell of compassion shown to children by professional\ncriminals. Some months ago a terrible murder case was reported in\nthe local papers,--the slaughter of a household by robbers. Seven\npersons had been literally hewn to pieces while asleep; but the\npolice discovered a little boy quite unharmed, crying alone in a\npool of blood; and they found evidence unmistakable that the men\nwho slew must have taken great care not to hurt the child.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nTHE GENIUS OF JAPANESE CIVILIZATION\n\nI\n\nWithout losing a single ship or a single battle, Japan has broken\ndown the power of China, made a new Korea, enlarged her own\nterritory, and changed the whole political face of the East.\nAstonishing as this has seemed politically, it is much more\nastonishing psychologically; for it represents the result of a\nvast play of capacities with which the race had never been\ncredited abroad,--capacities of a very high order. The\npsychologist knows that the so-called \"adoption of Western\ncivilization\" within a time of thirty years cannot mean the\naddition to the Japanese brain of any organs or powers previously\nabsent from it. He knows that it cannot mean any sudden change in\nthe mental or moral character of the race. Such changes are not\nmade in a generation. Transmitted civilization works much more\nslowly, requiring even hundreds of years to produce certain\npermanent psychological results.\n\nIt is in this light that Japan appears the most extraordinary\ncountry in the world; and the most wonderful thing in the whole\nepisode of her \"Occidentalization\" is that the race brain could\nbear so heavy a shock. Nevertheless, though the fact be unique in\nhuman history, what does it really mean? Nothing more than\nrearrangement of a part of the pre-existing machinery of thought.\nEven that, for thousands of brave young minds, was death. The\nadoption of Western civilization was not nearly such an easy\nmatter as un-thinking persons imagined. And it is quite evident\nthat the mental readjustments, effected at a cost which remains\nto be told, have given good results only along directions in\nwhich the race had always shown capacities of special kinds.\nThus, the appliances of Western industrial invention have worked\nadmirably in Japanese hands,--have produced excellent results in\nthose crafts at which the nation had been skillful, in other and\nquainter ways, for ages. There has been no transformation,\n\n--nothing more than the turning of old abilities into new and\nlarger channels. The scientific professions tell the same story.\nFor certain forms of science, such as medicine, surgery (there\nare no better surgeons in the world than the\nJapanese), chemistry, microscopy, the Japanese genius is\nnaturally adapted; and in all these it has done work already\nheard of round the world. In war and statecraft it has shown\nwonderful power; but throughout their history the Japanese have\nbeen characterized by great military and political capacity.\nNothing remarkable has been done, however, in directions foreign\nto the national genius. In the study, for example, of Western\nmusic, Western art, Western literature, time would seem to have\nbeen simply wasted(1). These things make appeal extraordinary to\nemotional life with us; they make no such appeal to Japanese\nemotional life. Every serious thinker knows that emotional\ntransformation of the individual through education is impossible.\nTo imagine that the emotional character of an Oriental race could\nbe transformed in the short space of thirty years, by the contact\nof Occidental ideas, is absurd. Emotional life, which is older\nthan intellectual life, and deeper, can no more be altered\nsuddenly by a change of milieu than the surface of a mirror can\nbe changed by passing reflections. All that Japan has been able\nto do so miraculously well has been done without any\nself-transformation; and those who imagine her emotionally closer\nto us to-day than she may have been thirty years ago ignore facts\nof science which admit of no argument.\n\nSympathy is limited by comprehension. We may sympathize to the\nsame degree that we understand. One may imagine that he\nsympathizes with a Japanese or a Chinese; but the sympathy can\nnever be real to more than a small extent outside of the simplest\nphases of common emotional life,--those phases in which child and\nman are at one. The more complex feelings of the Oriental have\nbeen composed by combinations of experiences, ancestral and\nindividual, which have had no really precise correspondence in\nWestern life, and which we can therefore not fully know. For\nconverse reasons, the Japanese cannot, even though they would,\ngive Europeans their best sympathy.\n\nBut while it remains impossible for the man of the West to\ndiscern the true color of Japanese life, either intellectual or\nemotional (since the one is woven into the other), it is equally\nimpossible for him to escape the conviction that, compared with\nhis own, it is very small. It is dainty; it holds delicate\npotentialities of rarest interest and value; but it is otherwise\nso small that Western life, by contrast with it, seems almost\nsupernatural. For we must judge visible and measurable\nmanifestations. So judging, what a contrast between the emotional\nand intellectual worlds of West and East! Far less striking that\nbetween the frail wooden streets of the Japanese capital and the\ntremendous solidity of a thoroughfare in Paris or London. When\none compares the utterances which West and East have given to\ntheir dreams, their aspirations, their sensations,--a Gothic\ncathedral with a Shinto temple, an opera by Verdi or a trilogy by\nWagner with a performance of geisha, a European epic with a\nJapanese poem,--how incalculable the difference in emotional\nvolume, in imaginative power, in artistic synthesis! True, our\nmusic is an essentially modern art; but in looking back through\nall our past the difference in creative force is scarcely less\nmarked,--not surely in the period of Roman magnificence, of\nmarble amphitheatres and of aqueducts spanning provinces, nor in\nthe Greek period of the divine in sculpture and of the supreme in\nliterature.\n\n\nAnd this leads to the subject of another wonderful fact in the\nsudden development of Japanese power. Where are the outward\nmaterial signs of that immense new force she has been showing\nboth in productivity and in war? Nowhere! That which we miss in\nher emotional and intellectual life is missing also from her\nindustrial and commercial life,--largeness! The land remains what\nit was before; its face has scarcely been modified by all the\nchanges of Meiji. The miniature railways and telegraph poles, the\nbridges and tunnels, might almost escape notice in the ancient\ngreen of the landscapes. In all the cities, with the exception of\nthe open ports and their little foreign settlements, there exists\nhardly a street vista suggesting the teaching of Western ideas.\nYou might journey two hundred miles through the interior of the\ncountry, looking in vain for large manifestations of the new\ncivilization. In no place do you find commerce exhibiting its\nambition in gigantic warehouses, or industry expanding its\nmachinery under acres of roofing. A Japanese city is still, as it\nwas ten centuries ago, little more than a wilderness of wooden\nsheds,--picturesque, indeed, as paper lanterns are, but scarcely\nless frail. And there is no great stir and noise anywhere,--no\nheavy traffic, no booming and rumbling, no furious haste. In\nTokyo itself you may enjoy, if you wish, the peace of a country\nvillage. This want of visible or audible signs of the new-found\nforce which is now menacing the markets of the West and changing\nthe maps of the far East gives one a queer, I might even say a\nweird feeling. It is almost the sensation received when, after\nclimbing through miles of silence to reach some Shinto shrine,\nyou find voidness only and solitude,--an elfish, empty little\nwooden structure, mouldering in shadows a thousand years old. The\nstrength of Japan, like the strength of her ancient faith, needs\nlittle material display: both exist where the deepest real power\nof any great people exists,--in the Race Ghost.\n\n(1) In one limited sense, Western art has influenced Japanese.\nliterature and drama; but the character of the influence proves\nthe racial difference to which I refer. European plays have been\nreshaped for the Japanese stage, and European novels rewritten\nfor Japanese readers. But a literal version is rarely attempted;\nfor the original incidents, thoughts, and emotions would be\nunintelligible to the average reader or playgoer. Plots are\nadopted; sentiments and incidents are totally transformed. \"The\nNew Magdalen\" becomes a Japanese girl who married an Eta. Victor\nHugo's _Les Miserables_ becomes a tale of the Japanese civil war;\nand Enjolras a Japanese student. There have been a few rare\nexceptions, including the marked success of a literal translation\nof the _Sorrows of Werther_.\n\n\n\nII\n\nAs I muse, the remembrance of a great city comes back to me,--a\ncity walled up to the sky and roaring like the sea. The memory of\nthat roar returns first; then the vision defines: a chasm, which\nis a street, between mountains, which are houses. I am tired,\nbecause I have walked many miles between those precipices of\nmasonry, and have trodden no earth,--only slabs of rock,--and\nhave heard nothing but thunder of tumult. Deep below those huge\npavements I know there is a cavernous world tremendous: systems\nunderlying systems of ways contrived for water and steam and\nfire. On either hand tower facades pierced by scores of tiers of\nwindows,--cliffs of architecture shutting out the sun. Above, the\npale blue streak of sky is cut by a maze of spidery lines,--an\ninfinite cobweb of electric wires. In that block on the right\nthere dwell nine thousand souls; the tenants of the edifice\nfacing it pay the annual rent of a million dollars. Seven\nmillions scarcely covered the cost of those bulks overshadowing\nthe square beyond,--and there are miles of such. Stairways of\nsteel and cement, of brass and stone, with costliest balustrades,\nascend through the decades and double-decades of stories; but no\nfoot treads them. By water-power, by steam, by electricity, men\ngo up and down; the heights are too dizzy, the distances too\ngreat, for the use of the limbs. My friend who pays rent of five\nthousand dollars for his rooms in the fourteenth story of a\nmonstrosity not far off has never trodden his stairway. I am\nwalking for curiosity alone; with a serious purpose I should not\nwalk: the spaces are too broad, the time is too precious, for\nsuch slow exertion,--men travel from district to district, from\nhouse to office, by steam. Heights are too great for the voice to\ntraverse; orders are given and obeyed by machinery. By\nelectricity far-away doors are opened; with one touch a hundred\nrooms are lighted or heated.\n\nAnd all this enormity is hard, grim, dumb; it is the enormity of\nmathematical power applied to utilitarian ends of solidity and\ndurability. These leagues of palaces, of warehouses, of business\nstructures, of buildings describable and indescribable, are not\nbeautiful, but sinister. One feels depressed by the mere\nsensation of the enormous life which created them, life without\nsympathy; of their prodigious manifestation of power, power\nwithout pity. They are the architectural utterance of the new\nindustrial age. And there is no halt in the thunder of wheels, in\nthe storming of hoofs and of human feet. To ask a question, one\nmust shout into the ear of the questioned; to see, to understand,\nto move in that high-pressure medium, needs experience. The\nunaccustomed feels the sensation of being in a panic, in a\ntempest, in a cyclone. Yet all this is order.\n\nThe monster streets leap rivers, span sea-ways, with bridges of\nstone, bridges of steel. Far as the eye can reach, a bewilderment\nof masts, a web-work of rigging, conceals the shores, which are\ncliffs of masonry. Trees in a forest stand less thickly, branches\nin a forest mingle less closely, than the masts and spars of that\nimmeasurable maze. Yet all is order.\n\n\n\nIII\n\nGenerally speaking, we construct for endurance, the Japanese for\nimpermanency. Few things for common use are made in Japan with a\nview to durability. The straw sandals worn out and replaced at\neach stage of a journey, the robe consisting of a few simple\nwidths loosely stitched together for wearing, and unstitched\nagain for washing, the fresh chopsticks served to each new guest\nat a hotel, the light shoji frames serving at once for windows\nand walls, and repapered twice a year; the mattings renewed every\nautumn,--all these are but random examples of countless small\nthings in daily life that illustrate the national contentment\nwith impermanency.\n\nWhat is the story of a common Japanese dwelling? Leaving my home\nin the morning, I observe, as I pass the corner of the next\nstreet crossing mine, some men setting up bamboo poles on a\nvacant lot there. Returning after five hours' absence, I find on\nthe same lot the skeleton of a two-story house. Next forenoon I\nsee that the walls are nearly finished already,--mud and wattles.\nBy sundown the roof has been completely tiled. On the following\nmorning I observe that the mattings have been put down, and the\ninside plastering has been finished. In five days the house is\ncompleted. This, of course, is a cheap building; a fine one would\ntake much longer to put up and finish. But Japanese cities are\nfor the most part composed of such common buildings. They are as\ncheap as they are simple.\n\nI cannot now remember where I first met with the observation that\nthe curve of the Chinese roof might preserve the memory of the\nnomad tent. The idea haunted me long after I had ungratefully\nforgotten the book in which I found it; and when I first saw, in\nIzumo, the singular structure of the old Shinto temples, with\nqueer cross-projections at their gable-ends and upon their\nroof-ridges, the suggestion of the forgotten essayist about the\npossible origin of much less ancient forms returned to me with\ngreat force. But there is much in Japan besides primitive\narchitectural traditions to indicate a nomadic ancestry for the\nrace. Always and everywhere there is a total absence of what we\nwould call solidity; and the characteristics of impermanence seem\nto mark almost everything in the exterior life of the people,\nexcept, indeed, the immemorial costume of the peasant and the\nshape of the implements of his toil. Not to dwell upon the fact\nthat even during the comparatively brief period of her written\nhistory Japan has had more than sixty capitals, of which the\ngreater number have completely disappeared, it may be broadly\nstated that every Japanese city is rebuilt within the time of a\ngeneration. Some temples and a few colossal fortresses offer\nexceptions; but, as a general rule, the Japanese city changes its\nsubstance, if not its form, in the lifetime of a man. Fires,\nearth-quakes, and many other causes partly account for this; the\nchief reason, however, is that houses are not built to last. The\ncommon people have no ancestral homes. The dearest spot to all\nis, not the place of birth, but the place of burial; and there is\nlittle that is permanent save the resting-places of the dead and\nthe sites of the ancient shrines.\n\nThe land itself is a land of impermanence. Rivers shift their\ncourses, coasts their outline, plains their level; volcanic peaks\nheighten or crumble; valleys are blocked by lava-floods or\nlandslides; lakes appear and disappear. Even the matchless shape\nof Fuji, that snowy miracle which has been the inspiration of\nartists for centuries, is said to have been slightly changed\nsince my advent to the country; and not a few other mountains\nhave in the same short time taken totally new forms. Only the\ngeneral lines of the land, the general aspects of its nature, the\ngeneral character of the seasons, remain fixed. Even the very\nbeauty of the landscapes is largely illusive,--a beauty of\nshifting colors and moving mists. Only he to whom those\nlandscapes are familiar can know how their mountain vapors make\nmockery of real changes which have been, and ghostly predictions\nof other changes yet to be, in the history of the archipelago.\n\nThe gods, indeed, remain,--haunt their homes upon the hills,\ndiffuse a soft religious awe through the twilight of their\ngroves, perhaps because they are without form and substance.\nTheir shrines seldom pass utterly into oblivion, like the\ndwellings of men. But every Shinto temple is necessarily rebuilt\nat more or less brief intervals; and the holiest,--the shrine of\nIse,--in obedience to immemorial custom, must be demolished every\ntwenty years, and its timbers cut into thousands of tiny charms,\nwhich are distributed to pilgrims.\n\n\nFrom Aryan India, through China, came Buddhism, with its vast\ndoctrine of impermanency. The builders of the first Buddhist\ntemples in Japan--architects of another race--built well: witness\nthe Chinese structures at Kamakura that have survived so many\ncenturies, while of the great city which once surrounded them not\na trace remains. But the psychical influence of Buddhism could in\nno land impel minds to the love of material stability. The\nteaching that the universe is an illusion; that life is but one\nmomentary halt upon an infinite journey; that all attachment to\npersons, to places, or to things must be fraught with sorrow;\nthat only through suppression of every desire--even the desire of\nNirvana itself--can humanity reach the eternal peace, certainly\nharmonized with the older racial feeling. Though the people never\nmuch occupied themselves with the profounder philosophy of the\nforeign faith, its doctrine of impermanency must, in course of\ntime, have profoundly influenced national character. It explained\nand consoled; it imparted new capacity to bear all things\nbravely; it strengthened that patience which is a trait of the\nrace. Even in Japanese art--developed, if not actually created,\nunder Buddhist influence--the doctrine of impermanency has left\nits traces. Buddhism taught that nature was a dream, an illusion,\na phantasmagoria; but it also taught men how to seize the\nfleeting impressions of that dream, and how to interpret them in\nrelation to the highest truth. And they learned well. In the\nflushed splendor of the blossom-bursts of spring, in the coming\nand the going of the cicada, in the dying crimson of autumn\nfoliage, in the ghostly beauty of snow, in the delusive motion of\nwave or cloud, they saw old parables of perpetual meaning. Even\ntheir calamities--fire, flood, earthquake, pestilence--\ninterpreted to them unceasingly the doctrine of the eternal\nVanishing.\n\n_All things which exist in Time must perish. The forests, the\nmountains,--all things thus exist. In Time are born all things\nhaving desire._\n\n_The Sun and Moon, Sakra himself with all the multitude of his\nattendants, will all, without exception, perish; there is not one\nthat will endure._\n\n_In the beginning things were fixed; in the end again they\nseparate: different combinations cause other substance; for in\nnature there is no uniform and constant principle._\n\n_All component things must grow old; impermanent are all\ncomponent things. Even unto a grain of sesamum seed there is no\nsuch thing as a compound which is permanent. All are transient;\nall have the inherent quality of dissolution._\n\n_All component things, without exception, are impermanent,\nunstable, despicable, sure to depart, disintegrating; all are\ntemporary as a mirage, as a phantom, or as foam.... Even as all\nearthen vessels made by the potter end in being broken, so end\nthe lives of men._\n\n_And a belief in matter itself is unmentionable and\ninexpressible,--it is neither a thing nor no-thing: and this is\nknown even by children and ignorant persons._\n\n\n\nIV\n\nNow it is worth while to inquire if there be not some\ncompensatory value attaching to this impermanency and this\nsmallness in the national life.\n\n\nNothing is more characteristic of that life than its extreme\nfluidity. The Japanese population represents a medium whose\nparticles are in perpetual circulation. The motion is in itself\npeculiar. It is larger and more eccentric than the motion of\nOccidental populations, though feebler between points. It is also\nmuch more natural,--so natural that it could not exist in Western\ncivilization. The relative mobility of a European population and\nthe Japanese population might be expressed by a comparison\nbetween certain high velocities of vibration and certain low\nones. But the high velocities would represent, in such a\ncomparison, the consequence of artificial force applied; the\nslower vibrations would not. And this difference of kind would\nmean more than surface indications could announce. In one sense,\nAmericans may be right in thinking themselves great travelers. In\nanother, they are certainly wrong; the man of the people in\nAmerica cannot compare, as a traveler, with the man of the people\nin Japan. And of course, in considering relative mobility of\npopulations, one must consider chiefly the great masses, the\nworkers,--not merely the small class of wealth. In their own\ncountry, the Japanese are the greatest travelers of any civilized\npeople. They are the greatest travelers because, even in a land\ncomposed mainly of mountain chains, they recognize no obstacles\nto travel. The Japanese who travels most is not the man who needs\nrailways or steamers to carry him.\n\nNow, with us, the common worker is incomparably less free than\nthe common worker in Japan. He is less free because of the more\ncomplicated mechanism of Occidental societies, whose forces tend\nto agglomeration and solid integration. He is less free because\nthe social and industrial machinery on which he must depend\nreshapes him to its own particular requirements, and always so as\nto evolve some special and artificial capacity at the cost of\nother inherent capacity. He is less free because he must live at\na standard making it impossible for him to win financial\nindependence by mere thrift. To achieve any such independence, he\nmust possess exceptional character and exceptional faculties\ngreater than those of thousands of exceptional competitors\nequally eager to escape from the same thralldom. In brief, then,\nhe is less independent because the special character of his\ncivilization numbs his natural power to live without the help of\nmachinery or large capital. To live thus artificially means to\nlose, sooner or later, the power of independent movement. Before\na Western man can move he has many things to consider. Before a\nJapanese moves he has nothing to consider. He simply leaves the\nplace he dislikes, and goes to the place he wishes, without any\ntrouble. There is nothing to prevent him. Poverty is not an\nobstacle, but a stimulus. Impedimenta he has none, or only such\nas he can dispose of in a few minutes. Distances have no\nsignificance for him. Nature has given him perfect feet that can\nspring him over fifty miles a day without pain; a stomach whose\nchemistry can extract ample nourishment from food on which no\nEuropean could live; and a constitution that scorns heat, cold,\nand damp alike, because still unimpaired by unhealthy clothing,\nby superfluous comforts, by the habit of seeking warmth from\ngrates and stoves, and by the habit of wearing leather shoes.\n\nIt seems to me that the character of our footgear signifies more\nthan is commonly supposed. The footgear represents in itself a\ncheck upon individual freedom. It signifies this even in\ncostliness; but in form it signifies infinitely more. It has\ndistorted the Western foot out of the original shape, and\nrendered it incapable of the work for which it was evolved. The\nphysical results are not limited to the foot. Whatever acts as a\ncheck, directly or indirectly, upon the organs of locomotion must\nextend its effects to the whole physical constitution. Does the\nevil stop even there? Perhaps we submit to conventions the most\nabsurd of any existing in any civilization because we have too\nlong submitted to the tyranny of shoemakers. There may be defects\nin our politics, in our social ethics, in our religious system,\nmore or less related to the habit of wearing leather shoes.\nSubmission to the cramping of the body must certainly aid in\ndeveloping submission to the cramping of the mind.\n\nThe Japanese man of the people--the skilled laborer able to\nunderbid without effort any Western artisan in the same line of\nindustry--remains happily independent of both shoemakers and\ntailors. His feet are good to look at, his body is healthy, and\nhis heart is free. If he desire to travel a thousand miles, he\ncan get ready for his journey in five minutes. His whole outfit\nneed not cost seventy-five cents; and all his baggage can be put\ninto a handkerchief. On ten dollars he can travel for a year\nwithout work, or he can travel simply on his ability to work, or\nhe can travel as a pilgrim. You may reply that any savage can do\nthe same thing. Yes, but any civilized man cannot; and the\nJapanese has been a highly civilized man for at least a thousand\nyears. Hence his present capacity to threaten Western\nmanufacturers.\n\nWe have been too much accustomed to associate this kind of\nindependent mobility with the life of our own beggars and tramps,\nto have any just conception of its intrinsic meaning. We have\nthought of it also in connection with unpleasant\nthings,--uncleanliness and bad smells. But, as Professor\nChamberlain has well said, \"a Japanese crowd is the sweetest in\nthe world\" Your Japanese tramp takes his hot bath daily, if he\nhas a fraction of a cent to pay for it, or his cold bath, if he\nhas not. In his little bundle there are combs, toothpicks,\nrazors, toothbrushes. He never allows himself to become\nunpleasant. Reaching his destination, he can transform himself\ninto a visitor of very nice manners, and faultless though simple\nattire(1).\n\nAbility to live without furniture, without impedimenta, with the\nleast possible amount of neat clothing, shows more than the\nadvantage held by this Japanese race in the struggle of life; it\nshows also the real character of some weaknesses in our own\ncivilization. It forces reflection upon the useless multiplicity\nof our daily wants. We must have meat and bread and butter; glass\nwindows and fire; hats, white shirts, and woolen underwear; boots\nand shoes; trunks, bags, and boxes; bedsteads, mattresses,\nsheets, and blankets: all of which a Japanese can do without, and\nis really better off without. Think for a moment how important an\narticle of Occidental attire is the single costly item of white\nshirts! Yet even the linen shirt, the so-called \"badge of a\ngentleman,\" is in itself a useless garment. It gives neither\nwarmth nor comfort. It represents in our fashions the survival of\nsomething once a luxurious class distinction, but to-day\nmeaningless and useless as the buttons sewn on the outside of\ncoat-sleeves.\n\n(1) Critics have tried to make fun of Sir Edwin Arnold's\nremark that a Japanese crowd smells like a geranium-flower. Yet\nthe simile is exact! The perfume called jako, when sparingly\nused, might easily be taken for the odor of a musk-geranium. In\nalmost any Japanese assembly including women a slight perfume of\njako is discernible; for the robes worn have been laid in drawers\ncontaining a few grains of jako. Except for this delicate scent,\na Japanese crowd is absolutely odorless.\n\n\nV\n\nThe absence of any huge signs of the really huge things that\nJapan has done bears witness to the very peculiar way in which\nher civilization has been working. It cannot forever so work; but\nit has so worked thus far with amazing success. Japan is\nproducing without capital, in our large sense of the word. She\nhas become industrial without becoming essentially mechanical and\nartificial. The vast rice crop is raised upon millions of tiny,\ntiny farms; the silk crop, in millions of small poor homes, the\ntea crop, on countless little patches of soil. If you visit Kyoto\nto order something from one of the greatest porcelain makers in\nthe world, one whose products are known better in London and in\nParis than even in Japan, you will find the factory to be a\nwooden cottage in which no American farmer would live. The\ngreatest maker of cloisonne vases, who may ask you two hundred\ndollars for something five inches high, produces his miracles\nbehind a two-story frame dwelling containing perhaps six small\nrooms. The best girdles of silk made in Japan, and famous\nthroughout the Empire, are woven in a house that cost scarcely\nfive hundred dollars to build. The work is, of course,\nhand-woven. But the factories weaving by machinery--and weaving\nso well as to ruin foreign industries of far vaster capacity--are\nhardly more imposing, with very few exceptions. Long, light, low\none-story or two-story sheds they are, about as costly to erect\nas a row of wooden stables with us. Yet sheds like these turn out\nsilks that sell all round the world. Sometimes only by inquiry,\nor by the humming of the machinery, can you distinguish a factory\nfrom an old yashiki, or an old-fashioned Japanese school\nbuilding,--unless indeed you can read the Chinese characters over\nthe garden gate. Some big brick factories and breweries exist;\nbut they are very few, and even when close to the foreign\nsettlements they seem incongruities in the landscape.\n\nOur own architectural monstrosities and our Babels of machinery\nhave been brought into existence by vast integrations of\nindustrial capital. But such integrations do not exist in the Far\nEast; indeed, the capital to make them does not exist. And\nsupposing that in the course of a few generations there should\nform in Japan corresponding combinations of money power, it is\nnot easy to suppose correspondences in architectural\nconstruction. Even two-story edifices of brick have given bad\nresults in the leading commercial centre; and earthquakes seem to\ncondemn Japan to perpetual simplicity in building. The very land\nrevolts against the imposition of Western architecture, and\noccasionally even opposes the new course of traffic by pushing\nrailroad lines out of level and out of shape.\n\nNot industry alone still remains thus unintegrated; government\nitself exhibits a like condition. Nothing is fixed except the\nThrone. Perpetual change is identical with state policy.\nMinisters, governors, superintendents, inspectors, all high civil\nand military officials, are shifted at irregular and surprisingly\nshort intervals, and hosts of smaller officials scatter each time\nwith the whirl. The province in which I passed the first\ntwelvemonth of my residence in Japan has had four different\ngovernors in five years. During my stay at Kumamoto, and before\nthe war had begun, the military command of that important post\nwas three times changed. The government college had in three\nyears three directors. In educational circles, especially, the\nrapidity of such changes has been phenomenal. There have been five\ndifferent ministers of education in my own time, and more than\nfive different educational policies. The twenty-six thousand\npublic schools are so related in their management to the local\nassemblies that, even were no other influences at work, constant\nchange would be inevitable because of the changes in the\nassemblies. Directors and teachers keep circling from post to\npost; there are men little more than thirty years old who have\ntaught in almost every province of the country. That any\neducational system could have produced any great results under\nthese conditions seems nothing short of miraculous.\n\nWe are accustomed to think that some degree of stability is\nnecessary to all real progress, all great development. But Japan\nhas given proof irrefutable that enormous development is possible\nwithout any stability at all. The explanation is in the race\ncharacter,--a race character in more ways than one the very\nopposite of our own. Uniformly mobile, and thus uniformly\nimpressionable, the nation has moved unitedly in the direction of\ngreat ends, submitting the whole volume of its forty millions to\nbe moulded by the ideas of its rulers, even as sand or as water\nis shaped by wind. And this submissiveness to reshaping belongs\nto the old conditions of its soul life,--old conditions of rare\nunselfishness and perfect faith. The relative absence from the\nnational character of egotistical individualism has been the\nsaving of an empire; has enabled a great people to preserve its\nindependence against prodigious odds. Wherefore Japan may well be\ngrateful to her two great religions, the creators and the\npreservers of her moral power to Shinto, which taught the\nindividual to think of his Emperor and of his country before\nthinking either of his own family or of himself; and to Buddhism,\nwhich trained him to master regret, to endure pain, and to accept\nas eternal law the vanishing of things loved and the tyranny of\nthings hated.\n\n\nTo-day there is visible a tendency to hardening,--a danger of\nchanges leading to the integration of just such an officialism as\nthat which has proved the curse and the weakness of China. The\nmoral results of the new education have not been worthy of the\nmaterial results. The charge of want of \"individuality,\" in the\naccepted sense of pure selfishness, will scarcely be made against\nthe Japanese of the next century. Even the compositions of\nstudents already reflect the new conception of intellectual\nstrength only as a weapon of offense, and the new sentiment of\naggressive egotism. \"Impermanency,\" writes one, with a fading\nmemory of Buddhism in his mind, \"is the nature of our life. We\nsee often persons who were rich yesterday, and are poor to-day.\nThis is the result of human competition, according to the law of\nevolution. We are exposed to that competition. We must fight each\nother, even if we are not inclined to do so. With what sword\nshall we fight? With the sword of knowledge, forged by\neducation.\"\n\nWell, there are two forms of the cultivation of Self. One leads\nto the exceptional development of the qualities which are noble,\nand the other signifies something about which the less said the\nbetter. But it is not the former which the New Japan is now\nbeginning to study. I confess to being one of those who believe\nthat the human heart, even in the history of a race, may be worth\ninfinitely more than the human intellect, and that it will sooner\nor later prove itself infinitely better able to answer all the\ncruel enigmas of the Sphinx of Life. I still believe that the old\nJapanese were nearer to the solution of those enigmas than are\nwe, just because they recognized moral beauty as greater than\nintellectual beauty. And, by way of conclusion, I may venture to\nquote from an article on education by Ferdinand Brunetiere:--\n\n\"All our educational measures will prove vain, if there be no\neffort to force into the mind, and to deeply impress upon it, the\nsense of those fine words of Lamennais: '_Human society is based\nupon mutual giving, or upon the sacrifice of man for man, or of\neach man for all other men; and sacrifice is the very essence of\nall true society._' It is this that we have been unlearning for\nnearly a century; and if we have to put ourselves to school\nafresh, it will be in order that we may learn it again. Without\nsuch knowledge there can be no society and no education,--not, at\nleast, if the object of education be to form man for society.\nIndividualism is to-day the enemy of education, as it is also the\nenemy of social order. It has not been so always; but it has so\nbecome. It will not be so forever; but it is so now. And without\nstriving to destroy it-which would mean to fall from one extreme\ninto another--we must recognize that, no matter what we wish to\ndo for the family, for society, for education, and for the\ncountry, it is against individualism that the work will have to\nbe done.\"\n\n\n\nIII\n\nA STREET SINGER\n\nA woman carrying a samisen, and accompanied by a little boy seven\nor eight years old, came to my house to sing. She wore the dress\nof a peasant, and a blue towel tied round her head. She was ugly;\nand her natural ugliness had been increased by a cruel attack of\nsmallpox. The child carried a bundle of printed ballads.\n\nNeighbors then began to crowd into my front yard,--mostly young\nmothers and nurse girls with babies on their backs, but old women\nand men likewise--the inkyo of the vicinity. Also the\njinrikisha-men came from their stand at the next street-corner;\nand presently there was no more room within the gate.\n\n\nThe woman sat down on my doorstep, tuned her samisen, played a\nbar of accompaniment,--and a spell descended upon the people; and\nthey stared at each other in smiling amazement.\n\nFor out of those ugly disfigured lips there gushed and rippled a\nmiracle of a voice--young, deep, unutterably touching in its\npenetrating sweetness. \"Woman or wood-fairy?\" queried a\nbystander. Woman only,--but a very, very great artist. The way\nshe handled her instrument might have astounded the most skillful\ngeisha; but no such voice had ever been heard from any geisha,\nand no such song. She sang as only a peasant can sing,--with\nvocal rhythms learned, perhaps, from the cicada and the wild\nnightingales,--and with fractions and semi-fractions and\ndemi-semi-fractions of tones never written down in the musical\nlanguage of the West.\n\nAnd as she sang, those who listened began to weep silently. I did\nnot distinguish the words; but I felt the sorrow and the\nsweetness and the patience of the life of Japan pass with her\nvoice into my heart,--plaintively seeking for something never\nthere. A tenderness invisible seemed to gather and quiver about\nus; and sensations of places and of times forgotten came softly\nback, mingled with feelings ghostlier,--feelings not of any place\nor time in living memory.\n\nThen I saw that the singer was blind.\n\n\nWhen the song was finished, we coaxed the woman into the house,\nand questioned her. Once she had been fairly well to do, and had\nlearned the samisen when a girl. The little boy was her son. Her\nhusband was paralyzed. Her eyes had been destroyed by smallpox.\nBut she was strong, and able to walk great distances. When the\nchild became tired, she would carry him on her back. She could\nsupport the little one, as well as the bed-ridden husband,\nbecause whenever she sang the people cried, and gave her coppers\nand food.... Such was her story. We gave her some money and a\nmeal; and she went away, guided by her boy.\n\n\nI bought a copy of the ballad, which was about a recent double\nsuicide: \"_The sorrowful ditty of Tamayone and Takejiro,--\ncomposed by Tabenaka Yone of Number Fourteen of the Fourth Ward\nof Nippon-bashi in the South District of the City of Osaka_.\" It\nhad evidently been printed from a wooden block; and there were\ntwo little pictures. One showed a girl and boy sorrowing\ntogether. The other--a sort of tail-piece--represented a\nwriting-stand, a dying lamp, an open letter, incense burning in a cup,\nand a vase containing shikimi,--that sacred plant used in the\nBuddhist ceremony of making offerings to the dead. The queer\ncursive text, looking like shorthand written perpendicularly,\nyielded to translation only lines like these:--\n\n\"In the First Ward of Nichi-Hommachi, in far-famed Osaka--\n_O the sorrow of this tale of shinju!_\n\n\"Tamayone, aged nineteen,--to see her was to love her, for\nTakejiro, the young workman.\n\n\"For the time of two lives they exchange mutual vows--\n_O the sorrow of loving a courtesan!_\n\n\"On their arms they tattoo a Raindragon, and the character\n'Bamboo'--thinking never of the troubles of life....\n\n\"But he cannot pay the fifty-five yen for her freedom--\n_O the anguish of Takejiro's heart!_\n\n\"Both then vow to pass away together, since never in this world\ncan they become husband and wife....\n\n\"Trusting to her comrades for incense and for flowers--\n_O the pity of their passing like the dew!_\n\n\"Tamayone takes the wine-cup filled with water only, in which\nthose about to die pledge each other....\n\n\"_O the tumult of the lovers' suicide!--O the pity of their lives\nthrown away!_\"\n\nIn short, there was nothing very unusual in the story, and\nnothing at all remarkable in the verse. All the wonder of the\nperformance had been in the voice of the woman. But long after\nthe singer had gone that voice seemed still to stay,--making\nwithin me a sense of sweetness and of sadness so strange that I\ncould not but try to explain to myself the secret of those\nmagical tones.\n\nAnd I thought that which is hereafter set down:--\n\n\nAll song, all melody, all music, means only some evolution of the\nprimitive natural utterance of feeling,--of that untaught speech\nof sorrow, joy, or passion, whose words are tones. Even as other\ntongues vary, so varies this language of tone combinations.\nWherefore melodies which move us deeply have no significance to\nJapanese ears; and melodies that touch us not at all make\npowerful appeal to the emotion of a race whose soul-life differs\nfrom our own as blue differs from yellow....Still, what is the\nreason of the deeper feelings evoked in me--an alien--by this\nOriental chant that I could never even learn,--by this common\nsong of a blind woman of the people? Surely that in the voice of\nthe singer there were qualities able to make appeal to something\nlarger than the sum of the experience of one race,--to something\nwide as human life, and ancient as the knowledge of good and\nevil.\n\n\nOne summer evening, twenty-five years ago, in a London park, I\nheard a girl say \"Good-night\" to somebody passing by. Nothing but\nthose two little words,--\"Good-night.\" Who she was I do not know:\nI never even saw her face; and I never heard that voice again.\nBut still, after the passing of one hundred seasons, the memory\nof her \"Good-night\" brings a double thrill incomprehensible of\npleasure and pain,--pain and pleasure, doubtless, not of me, not\nof my own existence, but of pre-existences and dead suns.\n\nFor that which makes the charm of a voice thus heard but once\ncannot be of this life. It is of lives innumerable and forgotten.\nCertainly there never have been two voices having precisely the\nsame quality. But in the utterance of affection there is a\ntenderness of timbre common to the myriad million voices of all\nhumanity. Inherited memory makes familiar to even the newly-born\nthe meaning of the tone of caress. Inherited, no doubt,\nlikewise, our knowledge of the tones of sympathy, of grief, of\npity. And so the chant of a blind woman in this city of the Far\nEast may revive in even a Western mind emotion deeper than\nindividual being,--vague dumb pathos of forgotten sorrows,--dim\nloving impulses of generations unremembered. The dead die never\nutterly. They sleep in the darkest cells of tired hearts and busy\nbrains,--to be startled at rarest moments only by the echo of\nsome voice that recalls their past.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nFROM A TRAVELING DIARY\n\nI\n\nOSAKA-KYOTO RAILWAY.\nApril 15, 1895.\n\nFeeling drowsy in a public conveyance, and not being able to lie\ndown, a Japanese woman will lift her long sleeve before her face\nere she begins to nod. In this second-class railway-carriage\nthere are now three women asleep in a row, all with faces\nscreened by the left sleeve, and all swaying together with the\nrocking of the train, like lotos-flowers in a soft current. (This\nuse of the left sleeve is either fortuitous or instinctive;\nprobably instinctive, as the right hand serves best to cling to\nstrap or seat in case of shock.) The spectacle is at once pretty\nand funny, but especially pretty, as exemplifying that grace with\nwhich a refined Japanese woman does everything,--always in the\ndaintiest and least selfish way possible. It is pathetic, too,\nfor the attitude is also that of sorrow, and sometimes of weary\nprayer. All because of the trained sense of duty to show only\none's happiest face to the world.\n\nWhich fact reminds me of an experience.\n\nA male servant long in my house seemed to me the happiest of\nmortals. He laughed invariably when spoken to, looked always\ndelighted while at work, appeared to know nothing of the small\ntroubles of life. But one day I peeped at him when he thought\nhimself quite alone, and his relaxed face startled me. It was not\nthe face I had known. Hard lines of pain and anger appeared in\nit, making it seem twenty years older. I coughed gently to\nannounce my presence. At once the face smoothed, softened,\nlighted up as by a miracle of rejuvenation. Miracle, indeed, of\nperpetual unselfish self-control.\n\n\nII\n\nKyoto, April 16.\n\nThe wooden shutters before my little room in the hotel are pushed\naway; and the morning sun immediately paints upon my shoji,\nacross squares of gold light, the perfect sharp shadow of a\nlittle peach-tree. No mortal artist--not even a Japanese--could\nsurpass that silhouette! Limned in dark blue against the yellow\nglow, the marvelous image even shows stronger or fainter tones\naccording to the varying distance of the unseen branches outside.\nit sets me thinking about the possible influence on Japanese art\nof the use of paper for house-lighting purposes.\n\nBy night a Japanese house with only its shoji closed looks like a\ngreat paper-sided lantern,--a magic-lantern making moving shadows\nwithin, instead of without itself. By day the shadows on the\nshoji are from outside only; but they may be very wonderful at\nthe first rising of the sun, if his beams are leveled, as in this\ninstance, across a space of quaint garden.\n\nThere is certainly nothing absurd in that old Greek story which\nfinds the origin of art in the first untaught attempt to trace\nupon some wall the outline of a lover's shadow. Very possibly all\nsense of art, as well as all sense of the supernatural, had its\nsimple beginnings in the study of shadows. But shadows on shoji\nare so remarkable as to suggest explanation of certain Japanese\nfaculties of drawing by no means primitive, but developed beyond\nall parallel, and otherwise difficult to account for. Of course,\nthe quality of Japanese paper, which takes shadows better than\nany frosted glass, must be considered, and also the character of\nthe shadows themselves. Western vegetation, for example, could\nscarcely furnish silhouettes so gracious as those of Japanese\ngarden-trees, all trained by centuries of caressing care to look\nas lovely as Nature allows.\n\nI wish the paper of my shoji could have been, like a photographic\nplate, sensitive to that first delicious impression cast by a\nlevel sun. I am already regretting distortions: the beautiful\nsilhouette has begun to lengthen.\n\n\nIII\n\nKyoto, April 16.\n\nOf all peculiarly beautiful things in Japan, the most beautiful\nare the approaches to high places of worship or of rest,--the\nWays that go to Nowhere and the Steps that lead to Nothing.\n\nCertainly, their special charm is the charm of the adventitious,\n--the effect of man's handiwork in union with Nature's finest\nmoods of light and form and color,--a charm which vanishes on\nrainy days; but it is none the less wonderful because fitful.\n\nPerhaps the ascent begins with a sloping paved avenue, half a\nmile long, lined with giant trees. Stone monsters guard the way\nat regular intervals. Then you come to some great flight of steps\nascending through green gloom to a terrace umbraged by older and\nvaster trees; and other steps from thence lead to other terraces,\nall in shadow. And you climb and climb and climb, till at last,\nbeyond a gray torii, the goal appears: a small, void, colorless\nwooden shrine,--a Shinto miya. The shock of emptiness thus\nreceived, in the high silence and the shadows, after all the\nsublimity of the long approach, is very ghostliness itself.\n\nOf similar Buddhist experiences whole multitudes wait for those\nwho care to seek them. I might suggest, for example, a visit to\nthe grounds of Higashi Otani, which are in the city of Kyoto. A\ngrand avenue leads to the court of a temple, and from the court a\nflight of steps fully fifty feet wide--massy, mossed, and\nmagnificently balustraded--leads to a walled terrace. The scene\nmakes one think of the approach to some Italian pleasure-garden\nof Decameron days. But, reaching the terrace, you find only a\ngate, opening--into a cemetery! Did the Buddhist\nlandscape-gardener wish to tell us that all pomp and power and\nbeauty lead only to such silence at last?\n\n\nIV\n\nKYOTO, April 10-20.\n\nI have passed the greater part of three days in the national\nExhibition,--time barely sufficient to discern the general\ncharacter and significance of the display. It is essentially\nindustrial, but nearly all delightful, notwithstanding, because\nof the wondrous application of art to all varieties of\nproduction. Foreign merchants and keener observers than I find in\nit other and sinister meaning,--the most formidable menace to\nOccidental trade and industry ever made by the Orient. \"Compared\nwith England,\" wrote a correspondent of the London Times, \"it is\nfarthings for pennies throughout.... The story of the Japanese\ninvasion of Lancashire is older than that of the invasion of\nKorea and China. It has been a conquest of peace,--a painless\nprocess of depletion which is virtually achieved.... The Kyoto\ndisplay is proof of a further immense development of industrial\nenterprise.... A country where laborers' hire is three shillings\na week, with all other domestic charges in proportion,\nmust--other things being equal--kill competitors whose expenses\nare quadruple the Japanese scale.\" Certainly the industrial\njiujutsu promises unexpected results.\n\nThe price of admission to the Exhibition is a significant matter\nalso. Only five sen! Yet even at this figure an immense sum is\nlikely to be realized,--so great is the swarm of visitors.\nMultitudes of peasants are pouring daily into the\ncity,--pedestrians mostly, just as for a pilgrimage. And a\npilgrimage for myriads the journey really is, because of the\ninauguration festival of the greatest of Shinshu temples.\n\nThe art department proper I thought much inferior to that of the\nTokyo Exhibition of 1890. Fine things there were, but few.\nEvidence, perhaps, of the eagerness with which the nation is\nturning all its energies and talents in directions where money is\nto be made; for in those larger departments where art is combined\nwith industry,--such as ceramics, enamels, inlaid work,\nembroideries,--no finer and costlier work could ever have been\nshown. Indeed, the high value of certain articles on display\nsuggested a reply to a Japanese friend who observed,\nthoughtfully, \"If China adopts Western industrial methods, she\nwill be able to underbid us in all the markets of the world.\"\n\n\"Perhaps in cheap production,\" I made answer. \"But there is no\nreason why Japan should depend wholly upon cheapness of\nproduction. I think she may rely more securely upon her\nsuperiority in art and good taste. The art-genius of a people may\nhave a special value against which all competition by cheap labor\nis vain. Among Western nations, France offers an example. Her\nwealth is not due to her ability to underbid her neighbors. Her\ngoods are the dearest in the world: she deals in things of luxury\nand beauty. But they sell in all civilized countries because they\nare the best of their kind. Why should not Japan become the\nFrance of the Further East?\"\n\n\nThe weakest part of the art display is that devoted to\noil-painting,--oil-painting in the European manner. No reason\nexists why the Japanese should not be able to paint wonderfully\nin oil by following their own particular methods of artistic\nexpression. But their attempts to follow Western methods have\neven risen to mediocrity only in studies requiring very realistic\ntreatment. Ideal work in oil, according to Western canons of art,\nis still out of their reach. Perhaps they may yet discover for\nthemselves a new gateway to the beautiful, even through\noil-painting, by adaptation of the method to the particular needs\nof the race-genius; but there is yet no sign of such a tendency.\n\nA canvas representing a perfectly naked woman looking at herself\nin a very large mirror created a disagreeable impression. The\nJapanese press had been requesting the removal of the piece, and\nuttering comments not flattering to Western art ideas.\nNevertheless the canvas was by a Japanese painter. It was a daub;\nbut it had been boldly priced at three thousand dollars.\n\nI stood near the painting for a while to observe its effect upon\nthe people,--peasants by a huge majority. They would stare at it,\nlaugh scornfully, utter some contemptuous phrase, and turn away\nto examine the kakemono, which were really far more worthy of\nnotice though offered at prices ranging only from ten to fifty\nyen. The comments were chiefly leveled at \"foreign\" ideas of good\ntaste (the figure having been painted with a European head). None\nseemed to consider the thing as a Japanese work. Had it\nrepresented a Japanese woman, I doubt whether the crowd would\nhave even tolerated its existence.\n\nNow all this scorn for the picture itself was just. There was\nnothing ideal in the work. It was simply the representation of a\nnaked woman doing what no woman could like to be seen doing. And\na picture of a mere naked woman, however well executed, is never\nart if art means idealism. The realism of the thing was its\noffensiveness. Ideal nakedness may be divine,--the most godly of\nall human dreams of the superhuman. But a naked person is not\ndivine at all. Ideal nudity needs no girdle, because the charm is\nof lines too beautiful to be veiled or broken. The living real\nhuman body has no such divine geometry. Question: Is an artist\njustified in creating nakedness for its own sake, unless he can\ndivest that nakedness of every trace of the real and personal?\n\nThere is a Buddhist text which truly declares that he alone is\nwise who can see things without their individuality. And it is\nthis Buddhist way of seeing which makes the greatness of the true\nJapanese art.\n\n\nV\n\nThese thoughts came:--\n\nThat nudity which is divine, which is the abstract of beauty\nabsolute, gives to the beholder a shock of astonishment and\ndelight,--not unmixed with melancholy. Very few works of art give\nthis, because very few approach perfection. But there are marbles\nand gems which give it, and certain fine studies of them, such as\nthe engravings published by the Society of Dilettanti. The longer\none looks, the more the wonder grows, since there appears no\nline, or part of a line, whose beauty does not surpass all\nremembrance. So the secret of such art was long thought\nsupernatural; and, in very truth, the sense of beauty it\ncommunicates is more than human,--is superhuman, in the meaning\nof that which is outside of existing life,--is therefore\nsupernatural as any sensation known to man can be.\n\nWhat is the shock?\n\nIt resembles strangely, and is certainly akin to, that psychical\nshock which comes with the first experience of love. Plato\nexplained the shock of beauty as being the Soul's sudden\nhalf-remembrance of the World of Divine Ideas. \"They who see here\nany image or resemblance of the things which are there receive a\nshock like a thunderbolt, and are, after a manner, taken out of\nthemselves.\" Schopenhauer explained, the shock of first love as\nthe Willpower of the Soul of the Race. The positive psychology of\nSpencer declares in our own day that the most powerful of human\npassions, when it makes its first appearance, is absolutely\nantecedent to all individual experience. Thus do ancient thought\nand modern--metaphysics and science--accord in recognizing that\nthe first deep sensation of human beauty known to the individual\nis not individual at all.\n\nMust not the same truth hold of that shock which supreme art\ngives? The human ideal expressed in such art appeals surely to\nthe experience of all that Past enshrined in the emotional life\nof the beholder,--to something inherited from innumerable\nancestors.\n\nInnumerable indeed!\n\nAllowing three generations to a century, and presupposing no\nconsanguineous marriages, a French mathematician estimates that\neach existing individual of his nation would have in his veins\nthe blood of twenty millions of contemporaries of the year 1000.\nOr calculating from the first year of our own era, the ancestry\nof a man of to-day would represent a total of eighteen\nquintillions. Yet what are twenty centuries to the time of the\nlife of man!\n\nWell, the emotion of beauty, like all of our emotions, is\ncertainly the inherited product of unimaginably countless\nexperiences in an immeasurable past. In every aesthetic sensation\nis the stirring of trillions of trillions of ghostly memories\nburied in the magical soil of the brain. And each man carries\nwithin him an ideal of beauty which is but an infinite composite\nof dead perceptions of form, color, grace, once dear to look\nupon. It is dormant, this ideal,--potential in essence,--cannot\nbe evoked at will before the imagination; but it may light up\nelectrically at any perception by the living outer senses of some\nvague affinity. Then is felt that weird, sad, delicious thrill,\nwhich accompanies the sudden backward-flowing of the tides of\nlife and time; then are the sensations of a million years and of\nmyriad generations summed into the emotional feeling of a moment.\n\nNow, the artists of one civilization only--the Greeks--were able\nto perform the miracle of disengaging the Race-Ideal of beauty\nfrom their own souls, and fixing its wavering out-line in jewel\nand stone. Nudity, they made divine; and they still compel us to\nfeel its divinity almost as they felt it themselves. Perhaps they\ncould do this because, as Emerson suggested, they possessed\nall-perfect senses. Certainly it was not because they were as\nbeautiful as their own statues. No man and no woman could be\nthat. This only is sure,--that they discerned and clearly fixed\ntheir ideal,--composite of countless million remembrances of dead\ngrace in eyes and eyelids, throat and cheek, mouth and chin, body\nand limbs.\n\n\nThe Greek marble itself gives proof that there is no absolute\nindividuality,--that the mind is as much a composite of souls as\nthe body is of cells.\n\n\nVI\n\nKyoto, April 21.\n\nThe noblest examples of religious architecture in the whole\nempire have just been completed; and the great City of Temples is\nnow enriched by two constructions probably never surpassed in all\nthe ten centuries of its existence. One is the gift of the\nImperial Government; the other, the gift of the common people.\n\nThe government's gift is the Dai-Kioku-Den,--erected to\ncommemorate the great festival of Kwammu Tenno, fifty-first\nemperor of Japan, and founder of the Sacred City. To the Spirit\nof this Emperor the Dai-Kioku-Den is dedicated: it is thus a\nShinto temple, and the most superb of all Shinto temples.\nNevertheless, it is not Shinto architecture, but a facsimile of\nthe original palace of Kwammu Tenno upon the original scale. The\neffect upon national sentiment of this magnificent deviation from\nconventional forms, and the profound poetry of the reverential\nfeeling which suggested it, can be fully comprehended only by\nthose who know that Japan is still practically ruled by the dead.\nMuch more than beautiful are the edifices of the Dai-Kioku-Den.\nEven in this most archaic of Japan cities they startle; they tell\nto the sky in every tilted line of their horned roofs the tale of\nanother and more fantastic age. The most eccentrically striking\nparts of the whole are the two-storied and five-towered\ngates,--veritable Chinese dreams, one would say. In color the\nconstruction is not less oddly attractive than in form,--and this\nespecially because of the fine use made of antique green tiles in\nthe polychromatic roofing. Surely the august Spirit of Kwammu\nTenno might well rejoice in this charming evocation of the past\nby architectural necromancy!\n\nBut the gift of the people to Kyoto is still grander. It is\nrepresented by the glorious Higashi Hongwanji,--or eastern\nHongwan temple (Shinshu). Western readers may form some idea of\nits character from the simple statement that it cost eight\nmillions of dollars and required seventeen years to build. In\nmere dimension it is largely exceeded by other Japanese buildings\nof cheaper construction; but anybody familiar with the Buddhist\ntemple architecture of Japan can readily perceive the difficulty\nof building a temple one hundred and, twenty-seven feet high, one\nhundred and ninety-two feet deep, and more than two hundred feet\nlong. Because of its peculiar form, and especially because of the\nvast sweeping lines of its roof, the Hongwanji looks even far\nlarger than it is,--looks mountainous. But in any country it\nwould be deemed a wonderful structure. There are beams forty-two\nfeet long and four feet thick; and there are pillars nine feet in\ncircumference. One may guess the character of the interior\ndecoration from the statement that the mere painting of the\nlotos-flowers on the screens behind the main altar cost ten\nthousand dollars. Nearly all this wonderful work was done with\nthe money contributed in coppers by hard-working peasants. And\nyet there are people who think that Buddhism is dying!\n\nMore than one hundred thousand peasants came to see the grand\ninauguration. They seated themselves by myriads on matting laid\ndown by the acre in the great court. I saw them waiting thus at\nthree in the afternoon. The court was a living sea. Yet all that\nhost was to wait till seven o'clock for the beginning of the\nceremony, without refreshment, in the hot sun. I saw at one\ncorner of the court a band of about twenty young girls,--all in\nwhite, and wearing peculiar white caps,--and I asked who they\nwere. A bystander replied: \"As all these people must wait here\nmany hours, it is to be feared that some may become ill.\nTherefore professional nurses have been stationed here to take\ncare of any who may be sick. There are likewise stretchers in\nwaiting, and carriers. And there are many physicians.\"\n\nI admired the patience and the faith. But those peasants might\nwell love the magnificent temple,--their own creation in very\ntruth, both directly and indirectly. For no small part of the\nactual labor of building was done for love only; and the mighty\nbeams for the roof had been hauled to Kyoto from far-away\nmountain-slopes, with cables made of the hair of Buddhist wives\nand daughters. One such cable, preserved in the temple, is more\nthan three hundred and sixty feet long, and nearly three inches\nin diameter.\n\n\nTo me the lesson of those two magnificent monuments of national\nreligious sentiment suggested the certain future increase in\nethical power and value of that sentiment, concomitantly with the\nincrease of national prosperity. Temporary poverty is the real\nexplanation of the apparent temporary decline of Buddhism. But an\nera of great wealth is beginning. Some outward forms of Buddhism\nmust perish; some superstitions of Shinto must die. The vital\ntruths and recognitions will expand, strengthen, take only deeper\nroot in the heart of the race, and potently prepare it for the\ntrials of that larger and harsher life upon which it has to\nenter.\n\n\n\nVII\n\nKobe, April 23.\n\nI have been visiting the exhibition of fishes and of fisheries\nwhich is at Hyogo, in a garden by the sea. Waraku-en is its name,\nwhich signifies, \"The Garden of the Pleasure of Peace.\" It is\nlaid out like a landscape garden of old time, and deserves its\nname. Over its verge you behold the great bay, and fishermen in\nboats, and the white far-gliding of sails splendid with light,\nand beyond all, shutting out the horizon, a lofty beautiful\nmassing of peaks mauve-colored by distance.\n\nI saw ponds of curious shapes, filled with clear sea-water, in\nwhich fish of beautiful colors were swimming. I went to the\naquarium where stranger kinds of fishes swam behind glass--fishes\nshaped like toy-kites, and fishes shaped like sword-blades, and\nfishes that seemed to turn themselves inside out, and funny,\npretty fishes of butterfly-colors, that move like dancing-girls,\nwaving sleeve-shaped fins.\n\nI saw models of all manner of boats and nets and hooks and\nfish-traps and torch-baskets for night-fishing. I saw pictures of\nevery kind of fishing, and both models and pictures of men\nkilling whales. One picture was terrible,--the death agony of a\nwhale caught in a giant net, and the leaping of boats in a\nturmoil of red foam, and one naked man on the monstrous back--a\nsingle figure against the sky--striking with a great steel, and\nthe fountain-gush of blood responding to the stroke.... Beside me\nI heard a Japanese father and mother explain the picture to their\nlittle boy; and the mother said:--\n\n\"When the whale is going to die, it speaks; it cries to the Lord\nBuddha for help,--_Namu Amida Butsu!_\"\n\nI went to another part of the garden where there were tame deer,\nand a \"golden bear\" in a cage, and peafowl in an aviary, and an\nape. The people fed the deer and the bear with cakes, and tried\nto coax the peacock to open its tail, and grievously tormented\nthe ape. I sat down to rest on the veranda of a pleasure-house\nnear the aviary, and the Japanese folk who had been looking at\nthe picture of whale-fishing found their way to the same veranda;\nand presently I heard the little boy say:--\n\n\"Father, there is an old, old fisherman in his boat. Why does he\nnot go to the Palace of the Dragon-King of the Sea, like\nUrashima?\"\n\nThe father answered: \"Urashima caught a turtle which was not\nreally a turtle, but the Daughter of the Dragon-King. So he was\nrewarded for his kindness. But that old fisherman has not caught\nany turtle, and even if he had caught one, he is much too old to\nmarry. Therefore he will not go to the Palace.\"\n\nThen the boy looked at the flowers, and the fountains, and the\nsunned sea with its white sails, and the mauve-colored mountains\nbeyond all, and exclaimed:--\n\n\"Father, do you think there is any place more beautiful than this\nin the whole world?\"\n\nThe father smiled deliciously, and seemed about to answer, but\nbefore he could speak the child cried out, and leaped, and\nclapped his little hands for delight, because the peacock had\nsuddenly outspread the splendor of its tail. And all hastened to\nthe aviary. So I never heard the reply to that pretty question.\n\nBut afterwards I thought that it might have been answered thus:--\n\n\n\"My boy, very beautiful this is. But the world is full of beauty;\nand there may be gardens more beautiful than this.\n\n\"But the fairest of gardens is not in our world. It is the Garden\nof Amida, in the Paradise of the West.\n\n\"And whosoever does no wrong what time he lives may after death\ndwell in that Garden.\n\n\"There the divine Kujaku, bird of heaven, sings of the Seven\nSteps and the Five Powers, spreading its tail as a sun.\n\n\"There lakes of jewel-water are, and in them lotos-flowers of a\nloveliness for which there is not any name. And from those\nflowers proceed continually rays of rainbow-light, and spirits of\nBuddhas newly-born.\n\n\"And the water, murmuring among the lotos-buds, speaks to the\nsouls in them of Infinite Memory and Infinite Vision, and of the\nFour Infinite Feelings.\n\n\"And in that place there is no difference between gods and men,\nsave that under the splendor of Amida even the gods must bend;\nand all sing the hymn of praise beginning, '_O Thou of\nImmeasurable Light!_'\n\n\"But the Voice of the River Celestial chants forever, like the\nchanting of thousands in unison: '_Even this is not high; there\nis still a Higher! This is not real; this is not Peace!_'\"\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE NUN OF THE TEMPLE OF AMIDA\n\nWhen O-Toyo's husband--a distant cousin, adopted into her family\nfor love's sake--had been summoned by his lord to the capital,\nshe did not feel anxious about the future. She felt sad only. It\nwas the first time since their bridal that they had ever been\nseparated. But she had her father and mother to keep her company,\nand, dearer than either,--though she would never have confessed\nit even to herself,--her little son. Besides, she always had\nplenty to do. There were many household duties to perform, and\nthere was much clothing to be woven--both silk and cotton.\n\nOnce daily at a fixed hour, she would set for the absent husband,\nin his favorite room, little repasts faultlessly served on dainty\nlacquered trays,--miniature meals such as are offered to the\nghosts of the ancestors, and to the gods(1). These repasts were\nserved at the east side of the room, and his kneeling-cushion\nplaced before them. The reason they were served at the east side,\nwas because he had gone east. Before removing the food, she\nalways lifted the cover of the little soup-bowl to see if there\nwas vapor upon its lacquered inside surface. For it is said that\nif there be vapor on the inside of the lid covering food so\noffered, the absent beloved is well. But if there be none, he is\ndead,--because that is a sign that his soul has returned by\nitself to seek nourishment. O-Toyo found the lacquer thickly\nbeaded with vapor day by day.\n\nThe child was her constant delight. He was three years old, and\nfond of asking questions to which none but the gods know the real\nanswers. When he wanted to play, she laid aside her work to play\nwith him. When he wanted to rest, she told him wonderful stories,\nor gave pretty pious answers to his questions about those things\nwhich no man can ever understand. At evening, when the little\nlamps had been lighted before the holy tablets and the images,\nshe taught his lips to shape the words of filial prayer. When he\nhad been laid to sleep, she brought her work near him, and\nwatched the still sweetness of his face. Sometimes he would smile\nin his dreams; and she knew that Kwannon the divine was playing\nshadowy play with him, and she would murmur the Buddhist\ninvocation to that Maid \"who looketh forever down above the sound\nof prayer.\"\n\n\nSometimes, in the season of very clear days, she would climb the\nmountain of Dakeyama, carrying her little boy on her back. Such a\ntrip delighted him much, not only because of what his mother\ntaught him to see, but also of what she taught him to hear. The\nsloping way was through groves and woods, and over grassed\nslopes, and around queer rocks; and there were flowers with\nstories in their hearts, and trees holding tree-spirits. Pigeons\ncried korup-korup; and doves sobbed owao, owao and cicada wheezed\nand fluted and tinkled.\n\nAll those who wait for absent dear ones make, if they can, a\npilgrimage to the peak called Dakeyama. It is visible from any\npart of the city; and from its summit several provinces can be\nseen. At the very top is a stone of almost human height and\nshape, perpendicularly set up; and little pebbles are heaped\nbefore it and upon it. And near by there is a small Shinto shrine\nerected to the spirit of a princess of other days. For she\nmourned the absence of one she loved, and used to watch from this\nmountain for his coming until she pined away and was changed into\na stone. The people therefore built the shrine; and lovers of the\nabsent still pray there for the return of those dear to them; and\neach, after so praying, takes home one of the little pebbles\nheaped there. And when the beloved one returns, the pebble must\nbe taken back to the pebble-pile upon the mountain-top, and other\npebbles with it, for a thank-offering and commemoration.\n\nAlways ere O-Toyo and her son could reach their home after such a\nday, the dusk would fall softly about them; for the way was long,\nand they had to both go and return by boat through the wilderness\nof rice-fields round the town,--which is a slow manner of\njourneying. Sometimes stars and fireflies lighted them; sometimes\nalso the moon,--and O-Toyo would softly sing to her boy the Izumo\nchild-song to the moon:--\n\nNono-San,\nLittle Lady Moon,\nHow old are you?\n\"Thirteen days,--\nThirteen and nine.\"\nThat is still young,\nAnd the reason must be\nFor that bright red obi,\nSo nicely tied(2),\nAnd that nice white girdle\nAbout your hips.\nWill you give it to the horse?\n\"Oh, no, no!\"\nWill you give it to the cow?\n\"Oh, no, no!(3)\"\n\nAnd up to the blue night would rise from all those wet leagues of\nlabored field that great soft bubbling chorus which seems the\nvery voice of the soil itself,--the chant of the frogs. And\nO-Toyo would interpret its syllables to the child: Me kayui! me\nkayui! \"Mine eyes tickle; I want to sleep.\"\n\nAll those were happy hours.\n\n(1) Such a repast, offered to the spirit of the absent one loved,\nis called a Kage-zen; lit., \"Shadow-tray.\" The word zen is also\nuse to signify the meal served on the lacquered tray,--which has\nfeet, like miniature table. So that time term \"Shadow-feast\"\nwould be a better translation of Kage-zen.\n\n(2) Because an obi or girdle of very bright color can be worn\nonly by children.\n\n(3) Nono-San,\nor\nO-Tsuki-san\nIkutsu?\n\"Jiu-san,--\nKokonotsu.\"\n\nSore wa mada\nWakai yo,\nWakai ye mo\nDori\nAkai iro no\nObi to,\nShire iro no\nObi to\nKoshi ni shanto\nMusun de.\nUma ni yaru?\n\"Iyaiya!\"\nUshi ni yaru?\n\"Iyaiya!\"\n\n\n\nII\n\nThen twice, within the time of three days, those masters of life\nand death whose ways belong to the eternal mysteries struck at\nher heart. First she was taught that the gentle husband for whom\nshe had so often prayed never could return to her,--having been\nreturned unto that dust out of which all forms are borrowed. And\nin another little while she knew her boy slept so deep a sleep\nthat the Chinese physician could not waken him. These things she\nlearned only as shapes are learned in lightning flashes. Between\nand beyond the flashes was that absolute darkness which is the\npity of the gods.\n\nIt passed; and she rose to meet a foe whose name is Memory.\nBefore all others she could keep her face, as in other days,\nsweet and smiling. But when alone with this visitant, she found\nherself less strong. She would arrange little toys and spread\nout little dresses on the matting, and look at them, and talk to\nthem in whispers, and smile silently. But the smile would ever\nend in a burst of wild, loud weeping; and she would beat her head\nupon the floor, and ask foolish questions of the gods.\n\n\nOne day she thought of a weird consolation,--that rite the\npeople name Toritsu-banashi,--the evocation of the dead. Could\nshe not call back her boy for one brief minute only? It would\ntrouble the little soul; but would he not gladly bear a moment's\npain for her dear sake? Surely!\n\n\n[To have the dead called back one must go to some priest--Buddhist\nor Shinto--who knows the rite of incantation. And the\nmortuary tablet, or ihai, of the dead must be brought to that\npriest.\n\nThen ceremonies of purification are performed; candles are\nlighted and incense is kindled before the ihai; and prayers or\nparts of sutras are recited; and offerings of flowers and of rice\nare made. But, in this case, the rice must not be cooked.\nAnd when everything has been made ready, the priest, taking in\nhis left hand an instrument shaped like a bow, and striking it\nrapidly with his right, calls upon the name of the dead, and\ncries out the words, Kitazo yo! kitazo yo! kitazo yo! meaning, \"I\nhave come(1).\" And, as he cries, the tone of his voice gradually\nchanges until it becomes the very voice of the dead person,--for\nthe ghost enters into him.\n\nThen the dead will answer questions quickly asked, but will cry\ncontinually: \"Hasten, hasten! for this my coming back is painful,\nand I have but a little time to stay!\" And having answered, the\nghost passes; and the priest falls senseless upon his face.\n\nNow to call back the dead is not good. For by calling them back\ntheir condition is made worse. Returning to the underworld, they\nmust take a place lower than that which they held before.\n\nTo-day these rites are not allowed by law. They once consoled;\nbut the law is a good law, and just,--since there exist men\nwilling to mock the divine which is in human hearts.]\n\n\nSo it came to pass that O-Toyo found herself one night in a\nlonely little temple at the verge of the city,--kneeling before\nthe ihai of her boy, and hearing the rite of incantation. And\npresently, out of the lips of the officiant there came a voice\nshe thought she knew,--a voice loved above all others,--but faint\nand very thin, like a sobbing of wind.\n\nAnd the thin voice cried to her:--\n\n\"Ask quickly, quickly, mother! Dark is the way and long; and I\nmay not linger.\"\n\nThen tremblingly she questioned:--\n\n\"Why must I sorrow for my child? What is the justice of the\ngods?\"\n\nAnd there was answer given:--\n\n\"O mother, do not mourn me thus! That I died was only that you\nmight not die. For the year was a year of sickness and of\nsorrow,--and it was given me to know that you were to die; and I\nobtained by prayer that I should take your place(2).\n\n\"O mother, never weep for me! it is not kindness to mourn for the\ndead. Over the River of Tears(3) their silent road is; and when\nmothers weep, the flood of that river rises, and the soul cannot\npass, but must wander to and fro.\n\n\"Therefore, I pray you, do not grieve, O mother mine! Only give\nme a little water sometimes.\"\n\n(1) Whence the Izumo saying about one who too often announces his\ncoming: \"Thy talk is like the talk of\nnecromancy!\"--Toritsubanashi no yona.\n\n(2) Migawari, \"substitute,\" is the religious term.\n\n(3) \"Namida-no-Kawa.\"\n\n\n\nIII\n\nFrom that hour she was not seen to weep. She performed, lightly\nand silently, as in former days, the gentle duties of a daughter.\n\nSeasons passed; and her father thought to find another husband\nfor her. To the mother, he said:--\n\n\"If our daughter again have a son, it will be great joy for her,\nand for all of us.\"\n\nBut the wiser mother made answer:--\n\n\"Unhappy she is not. It is impossible that she marry again. She\nhas become as a little child, knowing nothing of trouble or sin.\"\n\nIt was true that she had ceased to know real pain. She had begun\nto show a strange fondness for very small things. At first she\nhad found her bed too large--perhaps through the sense of\nemptiness left by the loss of her child; then, day by day, other\nthings seemed to grow too large,--the dwelling itself, the\nfamiliar rooms, the alcove and its great flower-vases,--even the\nhousehold utensils. She wished to eat her rice with miniature\nchop-sticks out of a very small bowl such as children use.\n\nIn these things she was lovingly humored; and in other matters\nshe was not fantastic. The old people consulted together about\nher constantly. At last the father said:--\n\n\"For our daughter to live with strangers might be painful. But as\nwe are aged, we may soon have to leave her. Perhaps we could\nprovide for her by making her a nun. We might build a little\ntemple for her.\"\n\nNext day the mother asked O-Toyo:--\n\n\"Would you not like to become a holy nun, and to live in a very,\nvery small temple, with a very small altar, and little images of\nthe Buddhas? We should be always near you. If you wish this, we\nshall get a priest to teach you the sutras.\"\n\nO-Toyo wished it, and asked that an extremely small nun's dress\nbe got for her. But the mother said:--\n\n\"Everything except the dress a good nun may have made small. But\nshe must wear a large dress--that is the law of Buddha.\"\n\nSo she was persuaded to wear the same dress as other nuns.\n\n\nIV\n\nThey built for her a small An-dera, or Nun's-Temple, in an empty\ncourt where another and larger temple, called Amida-ji, had once\nstood. The An-dera was also called Amida-ji, and was dedicated to\nAmida-Nyorai and to other Buddhas. It was fitted up with a very\nsmall altar and with miniature altar furniture. There was a tiny\ncopy of the sutras on a tiny reading-desk, and tiny screens and\nbells and kakemono. And she dwelt there long after her parents\nhad passed away. People called her the Amida-ji no Bikuni,--which\nmeans The Nun of the Temple of Amida.\n\nA little outside the gate there was a statue of Jizo. This Jizo\nwas a special Jizo--the friend of sick children. There were\nnearly always offerings of small rice-cakes to be seen before\nhim. These signified that some sick child was being prayed for;\nand the number of the rice-cakes signified the number of the\nyears of the child. Most often there were but two or three cakes;\nrarely there were seven or ten. The Amida-ji no Bikuni took care\nof the statue, and supplied it with incense-offerings, and\nflowers from the temple garden; for there was a small garden\nbehind the An-dera.\n\nAfter making her morning round with her alms-bowl, she would\nusually seat herself before a very small loom, to weave cloth\nmuch too narrow for serious use. But her webs were bought always\nby certain shopkeepers who knew her story; and they made her\npresents of very small cups, tiny flower-vases, and queer\ndwarf-trees for her garden.\n\nHer greatest pleasure was the companionship of children; and this\nshe never lacked. Japanese child-life, is mostly passed in temple\ncourts; and many happy childhoods were spent in the court of the\nAmida-ji. All the mothers in that street liked to have their\nlittle ones play there, but cautioned them never to laugh at the\nBikuni-San. \"Sometimes her ways are strange,\" they would say;\n\"but that is because she once had a little son, who died, and the\npain became too great for her mother's heart. So you must be very\ngood and respectful to her.\"\n\nGood they were, but not quite respectful in the reverential\nsense. They knew better than to be that. They called her\n\"Bikuni-San\" always, and saluted her nicely; but otherwise they\ntreated her like one of themselves. They played games with her;\nand she gave them tea in extremely small cups, and made for them\nheaps of rice-cakes not much bigger than peas, and wove upon her\nloom cloth of cotton and cloth of silk for the robes of their\ndolls. So she became to them as a blood-sister.\n\nThey played with her daily till they grew too big to play, and\nleft the court of the temple of Amida to begin the bitter work of\nlife, and to become the fathers and mothers of children whom they\nsent to play in their stead. These learned to love the Bikuni-San\nlike their parents had done. And the Bikuni-San lived to play\nwith the children of the children of the children of those who\nremembered when her temple was built.\n\nThe people took good heed that she should not know want. There\nwas always given to her more than she needed for herself. So she\nwas able to be nearly as kind to the children as she wished, and\nto feed extravagantly certain small animals. Birds nested in her\ntemple, and ate from her hand, and learned not to perch upon the\nheads of the Buddhas.\n\n\nSome days after her funeral, a crowd of children visited my\nhouse. A little girl of nine years spoke for them all:--\n\n\"Sir, we are asking for the sake of the Bikuni-San who is dead. A\nvery large haka(1) has been set up for her. It is a nice haka.\nBut we want to give her also a very, very small haka because in\nthe time she was with us she often said that she would like a\nvery little haka. And the stone-cutter has promised to cut it for\nus, and to make it very pretty, if we can bring the money.\nTherefore perhaps you will honorably give something.\"\n\n\"Assuredly,\" I said. \"But now you will have nowhere to play.\"\n\nShe answered, smiling:--\"We shall still play in the court of the\ntemple of Amida. She is buried there. She will hear our playing,\nand be glad.\"\n\n(1) Tombstone.\n\n\nVI\n\nAFTER THE WAR\n\n\nI\n\nHyogo, May 5, 1895.\n\nHyogo, this morning, lies bathed in a limpid magnificence of\nlight indescribable,--spring light, which is vapory, and lends a\nsort of apparitional charm to far things seen through it. Forms\nremain sharply outlined, but are almost idealized by faint colors\nnot belonging to them; and the great hills behind the town aspire\ninto a cloudless splendor of tint that seems the ghost of azure\nrather than azure itself.\n\nOver the blue-gray slope of tiled roofs there is a vast quivering\nand fluttering of extraordinary shapes,--a spectacle not indeed\nnew to me, but always delicious. Everywhere are floating--tied to\nvery tall bamboo poles--immense brightly colored paper fish,\nwhich look and move as if alive. The greater number vary from\nfive to fifteen feet in length; but here and there I see a baby\nscarcely a foot long, hooked to the tail of a larger one. Some\npoles have four or five fish attached to them at heights\nproportioned to the dimensions of the fish, the largest always at\nthe top. So cunningly shaped and colored these things are that\nthe first sight of them is always startling to a stranger. The\nlines holding them are fastened within the head; and the wind,\nentering the open mouth, not only inflates the body to perfect\nform, but keeps it undulating,--rising and descending, turning\nand twisting, precisely like a real fish, while the tail plays\nand the fins wave irreproachably. In the garden of my next-door\nneighbor there are two very fine specimens. One has an orange\nbelly and a bluish-gray back; the other is all a silvery tint;\nand both have big weird eyes. The rustling of their motion as\nthey swim against the sky is like the sound of wind in a\ncane-field. A little farther off I see another very big fish,\nwith a little red boy clinging to its back. That red boy\nrepresents Kintoki, strongest of all children ever born in Japan,\nwho, while still a baby, wrestled with bears and set traps for\ngoblin-birds.\n\nEverybody knows that these paper carp, or koi, are hoisted only\nduring the period of the great birth festival of boys, in the\nfifth month; that their presence above a house signifies the\nbirth of a son; and that they symbolize the hope of the parents\nthat their lad will be able to win his way through the world\nagainst all obstacles,--even as the real koi, the great Japanese\ncarp, ascends swift rivers against the stream. In many parts of\nsouthern and western Japan you rarely see these koi. You see,\ninstead, very long narrow flags of cotton cloth, called nobori,\nwhich are fastened perpendicularly, like sails, with little spars\nand rings to poles of bamboo, and bear designs in various colors\nof the koi in an eddy,--or of Shoki, conqueror of demons,--or of\npines,--or of tortoises,--or other fortunate symbols.\n\n\nII\n\nBut in this radiant spring of the Japanese year 2555, the koi\nmight be taken to symbolize something larger than parental hope,\n--the great trust of a nation regenerated through war. The\nmilitary revival of the Empire--the real birthday of New\nJapan--began with the conquest of China. The war is ended; the\nfuture, though clouded, seems big with promise; and, however grim\nthe obstacles to loftier and more enduring achievements, Japan\nhas neither fears nor doubts.\n\nPerhaps the future danger is just in this immense self-confidence.\nIt is not a new feeling created by victory. It is a race feeling,\nwhich repeated triumphs have served only to strengthen. From the\ninstant of the declaration of war there was never the least doubt of\nultimate victory. There was universal and profound enthusiasm, but\nno outward signs of emotional excitement. Men at once set to writing\nhistories of the triumphs of Japan, and these histories--issued to\nsubscribers in weekly or monthly parts, and illustrated with\nphoto-lithographs or drawings on wood--were selling all over the country\nlong before any foreign observers could have ventured to predict the\nfinal results of the campaign. From first to last the nation felt\nsure of its own strength, and of the impotence of China. The\ntoy-makers put suddenly into the market legions of ingenious mechanisms,\nrepresenting Chinese soldiers in flight, or being cut down by\nJapanese troopers, or tied together as prisoners by their queues, or\nkowtowing for mercy to illustrious generals. The old-fashioned\nmilitary playthings, representing samurai in armor, were superseded\nby figures--in clay, wood, paper, or silk--of Japanese cavalry,\ninfantry, and artillery; by models of forts and batteries; and\nmodels of men-of-war. The storming of the defenses of Port Arthur by\nthe Kumamoto Brigade was the subject of one ingenious mechanical\ntoy; another, equally clever, repeated the fight of the Matsushima\nKan with the Chinese iron-clads. There were sold likewise myriads of\ntoy-guns discharging corks by compressed air with a loud pop, and\nmyriads of toy-swords, and countless tiny bugles, the constant\nblowing of which recalled to me the tin-horn tumult of a certain New\nYear's Eve in New Orleans. The announcement of each victory resulted\nin an enormous manufacture and sale of colored prints, rudely and\ncheaply executed, and mostly depicting the fancy of the artist\nonly,--but well fitted to stimulate the popular love of glory. Wonderful\nsets of chessmen also appeared, each piece representing a Chinese or\nJapanese officer or soldier.\n\nMeanwhile, the theatres were celebrating the war after a much\nmore complete fashion. It is no exaggeration to say that almost\nevery episode of the campaign was repeated upon the stage. Actors\neven visited the battlefields to study scenes and backgrounds,\nand fit themselves to portray realistically, with the aid of\nartificial snowstorms, the hardships of the army in Manchuria.\nEvery gallant deed was dramatized almost as soon as reported. The\ndeath of the bugler Shirakami Genjiro(1); the triumphant courage\nof Harada Jiukichi, who scaled a rampart and opened a fortress\ngate to his comrades; the heroism of the fourteen troopers who\nheld their own against three hundred infantry; the successful\ncharge of unarmed coolies upon a Chinese battalion,--all these\nand many other incidents were reproduced in a thousand theatres.\nImmense illuminations of paper lanterns, lettered with phrases of\nloyalty or patriotic cheer, celebrated the success of the\nimperial arms, or gladdened the eyes of soldiers going by train\nto the field. In Kobe,--constantly traversed by troop-trains,--such\nilluminations continued night after night for weeks\ntogether; and the residents of each street further subscribed for\nflags and triumphal arches.\n\nBut the glories of the war were celebrated also in ways more\ndurable by the various great industries of the country. Victories\nand incidents of sacrificial heroism were commemorated in\nporcelain, in metal-work, and in costly textures, not less than\nin new designs for envelopes and note-paper. They were portrayed\non the silk linings of haori(2), on women's kerchiefs of\nchirimen(3), in the embroidery of girdles, in the designs of silk\nshirts and of children's holiday robes,--not to speak of cheaper\nprinted goods, such as calicoes and toweling. They were\nrepresented in lacquer-ware of many kinds, on the sides and\ncovers of carven boxes, on tobacco-pouches, on sleeve-buttons, in\ndesigns for hairpins, on women's combs, even on chopsticks.\nBundles of toothpicks in tiny cases were offered for sale, each\ntoothpick having engraved upon it, in microscopic text, a\ndifferent poem about the war. And up to the time of peace, or at\nleast up to the time of the insane attempt by a soshi(4) to kill\nthe Chinese plenipotentiary during negotiations, all things\nhappened as the people had wished and expected.\n\nBut as soon as the terms of peace had been announced, Russia\ninterfered, securing the help of France and Germany to bully\nJapan. The combination met with no opposition; the government\nplayed jiujutsu, and foiled expectations by unlooked-for\nyielding. Japan had long ceased to feel uneasy about her own\nmilitary power. Her reserve strength is probably much greater\nthan has ever been acknowledged, and her educational system, with\nits twenty-six thousand schools, is an enormous drilling-machine.\nOn her own soil she could face any foreign power. Her\nnavy was her weak point, and of this she was fully aware. It was\na splendid fleet of small, light cruisers, and splendidly\nhandled. Its admiral, without the loss of a single vessel, had\nannihilated the Chinese fleet in two engagements, but it was not\nyet sufficiently heavy to face the combined navies of three\nEuropean powers; and the flower of the Japanese army was beyond\nthe sea. The most opportune moment for interference had been\ncunningly chosen, and probably more than interference was\nintended. The heavy Russian battle-ships were stripped for\nfighting; and these alone could possibly have overpowered the\nJapanese fleet, though the victory would have been a costly one.\nBut Russian action was suddenly checked by the sinister\ndeclaration of English sympathy for Japan. Within a few weeks\nEngland could bring into Asiatic waters a fleet capable of\ncrushing, in one short battle, all the iron-clads assembled by\nthe combination. And a single shot from a Russian cruiser might\nhave plunged the whole world into war.\n\nBut in the Japanese navy there was a furious desire to battle\nwith the three hostile powers at once. It would have been a great\nfight, for no Japanese commander would have dreamed of yielding,\nno Japanese ship would have struck her colors. The army was\nequally desirous of war. It needed all the firmness of the\ngovernment to hold the nation back. Free speech was gagged; the\npress was severely silenced; and by the return to China of the\nLiao-Tung peninsula, in exchange for a compensatory increase of\nthe war indemnity previously exacted, peace was secured. The\ngovernment really acted with faultless wisdom. At this period of\nJapanese development a costly war with Russia could not fail to\nhave consequences the most disastrous to industry, commerce, and\nfinance. But the national pride has been deeply wounded, and the\ncountry can still scarcely forgive its rulers.\n\n(1) At the battle of Song-Hwan, a Japanese bugler named\nShirakami Genjiro was ordered to sound the charge (suzume). He\nhad sounded it once when a bullet passed through his lungs,\nthrowing him down.. His comrades tried to take the bugle away,\nseeing the wound was fatal. He wrested it from them, lifted it\nagain to his lips, sounded the charge once more with all his\nstrength, and fell back dead. I venture to offer this rough\ntranslation of a song now sung about him by every soldier and\nschoolboy in Japan:--\n\nSHIRAKAMI GENJIRO\n\n(After the Japanese military ballad, Rappa-no-hibiki.)\nEasy in other times than this\nWere Anjo's stream to cross;\nBut now, beneath the storm of shot,\nIts waters seethe and toss.\n\nIn other time to pass that stream\nWere sport for boys at play;\nBut every man through blood must wade\nWho fords Anjo to-day.\n\nThe bugle sounds;--through flood and flame\nCharges the line of steel;--\nAbove the crash of battle rings\nThe bugle's stern appeal.\n\nWhy has that bugle ceased to call?\nWhy does it call once more?\nWhy sounds the stirring signal now\nMore faintly than before?\n\nWhat time the bugle ceased to sound,\nThe breast was smitten through;--\nWhat time the blast rang faintly, blood\nGushed from the lips that blew.\n\nDeath-stricken, still the bugler stands!\nHe leans upon his gun,--\nOnce more to sound the bugle-call\nBefore his life be done.\n\nWhat though the shattered body fall?\nThe spirit rushes free\nThrough Heaven and Earth to sound anew\nThat call to Victory!\n\nFar, far beyond our shore, the spot\nNow honored by his fall;--\nBut forty million brethren\nHave heard that bugle-call.\n\nComrade!--beyond the peaks and seas\nYour bugle sounds to-day\nIn forty million loyal hearts\nA thousand miles away!\n\n(2) Haori, a sort of upper dress, worn by men as well as women.\nThe linings are often of designs beautiful beyond praise.\n\n(3) Chirimen is crape-silk, of which there are many qualities;\nsome very costly and durable.\n\n(4) Soshi form one of the modern curses of Japan. They are mostly\nex-students who earn a living by hiring themselves out as rowdy\nterrorists. Politicians employ them either against the soshi of\nopponents, or as bullies in election time. Private persons\nsometimes employ them as defenders. They have figured in most of\nthe election rows which have taken place of late years in Japan,\nalso in a number of assaults made on distinguished personages.\nThe causes which produced nihilism in Russia have several points\nof resemblance with the causes which developed the modern soshi\nclass in Japan.\n\n\n\nIII\n\nHyogo, May 15.\n\nThe Matsushima Kan, returned from China, is anchored before the\nGarden of the Pleasure of Peace. She is not a colossus, though\nshe has done grand things; but she certainly looks quite\nformidable as she lies there in the clear light,--a stone-gray\nfortress of steel rising out of the smooth blue. Permission to\nvisit her has been given to the delighted people, who don their\nbest for the occasion, as for a temple festival, and I am\nsuffered to accompany some of them. All the boats in the port\nwould seem to have been hired for the visitors, so huge is the\nshoal hovering about the ironclad as we arrive. It is not\npossible for such a number of sightseers to go on board at once,\nand we have to wait while hundreds are being alternately admitted\nand dismissed. But the waiting in the cool sea air is not\nunpleasant; and the spectacle of the popular joy is worth\nwatching. What eager rushing when the turn comes! what swarming\nand squeezing and clinging! Two women fall into the sea, and are\npulled out by blue-jackets, and say they are not sorry to have\nfallen in, because they can now boast of owing their lives to the\nmen of the Matsushima Kan! As a matter of fact, they could not\nvery well have been drowned; there were legions of common boatmen\nto look after them.\n\nBut something of larger importance to the nation than the lives\nof two young women is really owing to the men of the Matsushima\nKan; and the people are rightly trying to pay them back with\nlove,--for presents, such as thousands would like to make, are\nprohibited by disciplinary rule. Officers and crew must be weary;\nbut the crowding and the questioning are borne with charming\namiability. Everything is shown and explained in detail:\nthe huge thirty-centimetre gun, with its loading apparatus and\ndirecting machinery; the quick-firing batteries; the torpedoes,\nwith their impulse-tubes; the electric lantern, with its\nsearching mechanism. I myself, though a foreigner, and therefore\nrequiring a special permit, am guided all about, both below and\nabove, and am even suffered to take a peep at the portraits of\ntheir Imperial Majesties, in the admiral's cabin; and I am told\nthe stirring story of the great fight off the Yalu. Meanwhile,\nthe old bald men and the women and the babies of the port hold\nfor one golden day command of the Matsushima. Officers, cadets,\nblue-jackets, spare no effort to please. Some talk to the\ngrandfathers; others let the children play with the hilts of\ntheir swords, or teach them how to throw up their little hands\nand shout \"_Teikoku Banzai!_\" And for tired mothers, matting has\nbeen spread, where they can squat down in the shade between\ndecks.\n\nThose decks, only a few months ago, were covered with the blood\nof brave men. Here and there dark stains, which still resist\nholy-stoning, are visible; and the people look at them with\ntender reverence. The flagship was twice struck by enormous\nshells, and her vulnerable parts were pierced by a storm of small\nprojectiles. She bore the brunt of the engagement, losing nearly\nhalf her crew. Her tonnage is only four thousand two hundred and\neighty; and her immediate antagonists were two Chinese ironclads\nof seven thousand four hundred tons each. Outside, her cuirass\nshows no deep scars, for the shattered plates have been\nreplaced;--but my guide points proudly to the numerous patchings\nof the decks, the steel masting supporting the fighting-tops, the\nsmoke-stack,--and to certain terrible dents, with small cracks\nradiating from them, in the foot-thick steel of the barbette. He\ntraces for us, below, the course of the thirty-and-a-half\ncentimetre shell that pierced the ship. \"When it came,\" he tells\nus, \"the shock threw men into the air that high\" (holding his\nhand some two feet above the deck). \"At the same moment all\nbecame dark; you could not see your hand. Then we found that one\nof the starboard forward guns had been smashed, and the crew all\nkilled. We had forty men killed instantly, and many more wounded:\nno man escaped in that part of the ship. The deck was on fire,\nbecause a lot of ammunition brought up for the guns had exploded;\nso we had to fight and to work to put out the fire at the same\ntime. Even badly wounded men, with the skin blown from their\nhands and faces, worked as if they felt no pain; and dying men\nhelped to pass water. But we silenced the Ting-yuen with one more\nshot from our big gun. The Chinese had European gunners helping\nthem. If we had not had to fight against Western gunners, _our\nvictory would have been too easy._\"\n\nHe gives the true note. Nothing, on this splendid spring day,\ncould so delight the men of the Matsushima Kan as a command to\nclear for action, and attack the great belted Russian cruisers\nlying off the coast.\n\n\nIV\n\nKobe, June 9.\n\nLast year, while traveling from Shimonoseki to the capital, I saw\nmany regiments on their way to the seat of war, all uniformed in\nwhite, for the hot season was not yet over. Those soldiers looked\nso much like students whom I had taught (thousands, indeed, were\nreally fresh from school) that I could not help feeling it was\ncruel to send such youths to battle. The boyish faces were so\nfrank, so cheerful, so seemingly innocent of the greater sorrows\nof life! \"Don't fear for them,\" said an English fellow-traveler,\na man who had passed his life in camps; \"they will give a\nsplendid account of themselves.\"\n\n\"I know it,\" was my answer; \"but I am thinking of fever and frost and\nManchurian winter: these are more to be feared than Chinese rifles(1).\"\n\nThe calling of the bugles, gathering the men together after dark,\nor signaling the hour of rest, had for years been one of the\npleasures of my summer evenings in a Japanese garrison town. But\nduring the months of war, those long, plaintive notes of the last\ncall touched me in another way. I do not know that the melody is\npeculiar; but it was sometimes played, I used to think, with\npeculiar feeling; and when uttered to the starlight by all the\nbugles of a division at once, the multitudinously blending tones\nhad a melancholy sweetness never to be forgotten. And I would\ndream of phantom buglers, summoning the youth and strength of\nhosts to the shadowy silence of perpetual rest.\n\nWell, to-day I went to see some of the regiments return. Arches\nof greenery had been erected over the street they were to pass\nthrough, leading from Kobe station to Nanko-San,--the great\ntemple dedicated to the hero spirit of Kusunoki Masashige. The\ncitizens had subscribed six thousand yen for the honor of serving\nthe soldiers with the first meal after their return; and many\nbattalions had already received such kindly welcome. The sheds\nunder which they ate in the court of the temple had been\ndecorated with flags and festoons; and there were gifts for all\nthe troops,--sweetmeats, and packages of cigarettes, and little\ntowels printed with poems in praise of valor. Before the gate of\nthe temple a really handsome triumphal arch had been erected,\nbearing on each of its facades a phrase of welcome in Chinese\ntext of gold, and on its summit a terrestrial globe surmounted by\na hawk with outspread pinions(2).\n\nI waited first, with Manyemon, before the station, which is very\nnear the temple. The train arrived; a military sentry ordered all\nspectators to quit the platform, and outside, in the street,\npolice kept back the crowd, and stopped all traffic. After a few\nminutes, the battalions came, marching in regular column through\nthe brick archway,--headed by a gray officer, who limped slightly\nas he walked, smoking a cigarette. The crowd thickened about us,\nbut there was no cheering, not even speaking,--a hush broken only\nby the measured tramp of the passing troops. I could scarcely\nbelieve those were the same men I had seen going to the war; only\nthe numbers on the shoulder-straps assured me of the fact.\nSunburnt and grim the faces were; many had heavy beards. The dark\nblue winter uniforms were frayed and torn, the shoes worn into\nshapelessness; but the strong, swinging stride was the stride of\nthe hardened soldier. Lads no longer these, but toughened men,\nable to face any troops in the world; men who had slaughtered and\nstormed; men who had also suffered many things which never will\nbe written. The features showed neither joy nor pride; the\nquick-searching eyes hardly glanced at the welcoming flags, the\ndecorations, the arch with its globe-shadowing hawk of battle,\n--perhaps because those eyes had seen too often the things which\nmake men serious. (Only one man smiled as he passed; and I\nthought of a smile seen on the face of a Zouave when I was a boy,\nwatching the return of a regiment from Africa,--a mocking smile,\nthat stabbed.) Many of the spectators were visibly affected,\nfeeling the reason of the change. But, for  that, the soldiers\nwere better soldiers now; and they were going to find welcome,\nand comforts, and gifts, and the great warm love of the\npeople,--and repose thereafter, in their old familiar camps.\n\nI said to Manyemon: \"This evening they will be in Osaka and\nNagoya. They will hear the bugles calling; and they will think of\ncomrades who never can return.\"\n\nThe old man answered, with simple earnestness: \"Perhaps by\nWestern people it is thought that the dead never return. But we\ncannot so think. There are no Japanese dead who do not return.\nThere are none who do not know the way. From China and from\nChosen, and out of the bitter sea, all our dead have come\nback,--all! They are with us now. In every dusk they gather to\nhear the bugles that called them home. And they will hear them\nalso in that day when the armies of the Son of Heaven shall be\nsummoned against Russia.\"\n\n(1) The total number of Japanese actually killed in battle, from\nthe fight at A-san to the capture of the Pescadores, was only\n739. But the deaths resulting from other causes, up to as late a\ndate as the 8th of June, during the occupation of Formosa, were\n3,148. Of these, 1,602 were due to cholera alone. Such, at least,\nwere the official figures as published in the Kobe Chronicle.\n\n(2) At the close of the great naval engagement of the 17th of\nSeptember, 1894, a hawk alighted on the fighting-mast of the\nJapanese cruiser Takachiho, and suffered itself to be taken and\nfed.  After much petting, this bird of good omen was presented to\nthe Emperor. Falconry was a great feudal sport in Japan, and\nhawks were finely trained. The hawk is now likely to become, more\nthan ever before in Japan, a symbol of victory.\n\n\n\nVII.\n\nHARU\n\nHaru was brought up, chiefly at home, in that old-fashioned way\nwhich produced one of the sweetest types of woman the world has\never seen. This domestic education cultivated simplicity of\nheart, natural grace of manner, obedience, and love of duty as\nthey were never cultivated but in Japan. Its moral product was\nsomething too gentle and beautiful for any other than the old\nJapanese society: it was not the most judicious preparation for\nthe much harsher life of the new,--in which it still survives.\nThe refined girl was trained for the condition of being\ntheoretically at the mercy of her husband. She was taught never\nto show jealousy, or grief, or anger,--even under circumstances\ncompelling all three; she was expected to conquer the faults of\nher lord by pure sweetness. In short, she was required to be\nalmost superhuman,--to realize, at least in outward seeming, the\nideal of perfect unselfishness. And this she could do with a\nhusband of her own rank, delicate in discernment,--able to divine\nher feelings, and never to wound them.\n\nHaru came of a much better family than her husband; and she was a\nlittle too good for him, because he could not really understand\nher. They had been married very young, had been poor at first,\nand then had gradually become well-off, because Haru's husband\nwas a clever man of business. Sometimes she thought he had loved\nher most when they were less well off; and a woman is seldom\nmistaken about such matters.\n\nShe still made all his clothes; and he commended her needle-work.\nShe waited upon his wants, aided him to dress and undress, made\neverything comfortable for him in their pretty home; bade him a\ncharming farewell as he went to business in the morning, and\nwelcomed him upon his return; received his friends exquisitely;\nmanaged his household matters with wonderful economy, and seldom\nasked any favors that cost money. Indeed she scarcely needed such\nfavors; for he was never ungenerous, and liked to see her\ndaintily dressed,--looking like some beautiful silver moth robed\nin the folding of its own wings,--and to take her to theatres and\nother places of amusement. She accompanied him to\npleasure-resorts famed for the blossoming of cherry-trees in\nspring, or the shimmering of fireflies on summer nights, or the\ncrimsoning of maples in autumn. And sometimes they would pass a\nday together at Maiko, by the sea, where the pines seem to sway\nlike dancing girls; or an afternoon at Kiyomidzu, in the old, old\nsummer-house, where everything is like a dream of five hundred\nyears ago,--and where there is a great shadowing of high woods,\nand a song of water leaping cold and clear from caverns, and\nalways the plaint of flutes unseen, blown softly in the antique\nway,--a tone-caress of peace and sadness blending, just as the\ngold light glooms into blue over a dying sun.\n\nExcept for such small pleasures and excursions, Haru went out\nseldom. Her only living relatives, and also those of her husband,\nwere far away in other provinces, and she had few visits to make.\nShe liked to be at home, arranging flowers for the alcoves or for\nthe gods, decorating the rooms, and feeding the tame gold-fish of\nthe garden-pond, which would lift up their heads when they saw\nher coming.\n\nNo child had yet brought new joy or sorrow into her life. She\nlooked, in spite of her wife's coiffure, like a very young girl;\nand she was still simple as a child,--notwithstanding that\nbusiness capacity in small things which her husband so admired\nthat he often condescended to ask her counsel in big things.\nPerhaps the heart then judged for him better than the pretty\nhead; but, whether intuitive or not, her advice never proved\nwrong. She was happy enough with him for five years,--during\nwhich time he showed himself as considerate as any young Japanese\nmerchant could well be towards a wife of finer character than his\nown.\n\nThen his manner suddenly became cold,--so suddenly that she felt\nassured the reason was not that which a childless wife might have\nreason to fear. Unable to discover the real cause, she tried to\npersuade herself that she had been remiss in her duties; examined\nher innocent conscience to no purpose; and tried very, very hard\nto please. But he remained unmoved. He spoke no unkind words,--\nthough she felt behind his silence the repressed tendency to\nutter them. A Japanese of the better class is not very apt to be\nunkind to his wife in words. It is thought to be vulgar and\nbrutal. The educated man of normal disposition will even answer a\nwife's reproaches with gentle phrases. Common politeness, by the\nJapanese code, exacts this attitude from every manly man;\nmoreover, it is the only safe one. A refined and sensitive woman\nwill not long submit to coarse treatment; a spirited one may even\nkill herself because of something said in a moment of passion,\nand such a suicide disgraces the husband for the rest of his\nlife. But there are slow cruelties worse than words, and safer,--\nneglect or indifference, for example, of a sort to arouse\njealousy. A Japanese wife has indeed been trained never to show\njealousy; but the feeling is older than all training,--old as\nlove, and likely to live as long. Beneath her passionless mask\nthe Japanese wife feels like her Western sister,--just like that\nsister who prays and prays, even while delighting some evening\nassembly of beauty and fashion, for the coming of the hour which\nwill set her free to relieve her pain alone.\n\nHaru had cause for jealousy; but she was too much of a child to\nguess the cause at once; and her servants too fond of her to\nsuggest it. Her husband had been accustomed to pass his evenings\nin her company, either at home or elsewhere. But now, evening\nafter evening, he went out by himself. The first time he had\ngiven her some business pretexts; afterwards he gave none, and\ndid not even tell her when he expected to return. Latterly, also,\nhe had been treating her with silent rudeness. He had become\nchanged,--\"as if there was a goblin in his heart,\"--the servants\nsaid. As a matter of fact he had been deftly caught in a snare\nset for him. One whisper from a geisha had numbed his will; one\nsmile blinded his eyes. She was far less pretty than his wife;\nbut she was very skillful in the craft of spinning webs,--webs of\nsensual delusion which entangle weak men; and always tighten more\nand more about them until the final hour of mockery and ruin.\nHaru did not know. She suspected no wrong till after her\nhusband's strange conduct had become habitual,--and even then\nonly because she found that his money was passing into unknown\nhands. He had never told her where he passed his evenings. And\nshe was afraid to ask, lest he should think her jealous. Instead\nof exposing her feelings in words, she treated him with such\nsweetness that a more intelligent husband would have divined all.\nBut, except in business, he was dull. He continued to pass his\nevenings away; and as his conscience grew feebler, his absences\nlengthened. Haru had been taught that a good wife should always\nsit up and wait for her lord's return at night; and by so doing\nshe suffered from nervousness, and from the feverish conditions,\nthat follow sleeplessness, and from the lonesomeness of her\nwaiting after the servants, kindly dismissed at the usual hour,\nhad left her with her thoughts. Once only, returning very late,\nher husband said to her: \"I am sorry you should have sat up so\nlate for me; do not wait like that again!\" Then, fearing he might\nreally have been pained on her account, she laughed pleasantly,\nand said: \"I was not sleepy, and I am not tired; honorably please\nnot to think about me.\" So he ceased to think about her,--glad to\ntake her at her word; and not long after that he stayed away for\none whole night. The next night he did likewise, and a third\nnight. After that third night's absence he failed even to return\nfor the morning meal; and Haru knew the time had come when her\nduty as a wife obliged her to speak.\n\nShe waited through all the morning hours, fearing for him,\nfearing for herself also; conscious at last of the wrong by which\na woman's heart can be most deeply wounded. Her faithful servants\nhad told her something; the rest she could guess. She was very\nill, and did not know it. She knew only that she was angry--\nselfishly angry, because of the pain given her, cruel, probing,\nsickening pain. Midday came as she sat thinking how she could say\nleast selfishly what it was now her duty to say,--the first words\nof reproach that would ever have passed her lips. Then her heart\nleaped with a shock that made everything blur and swim before her\nsight in a whirl of dizziness,--because there was a sound of\nkuruma-wheels and the voice of a servant calling:\n\"_Honorable-return-is!_\"\n\nShe struggled to the entrance to meet him, all her slender body\na-tremble with fever and pain, and terror of betraying that pain.\nAnd the man was startled, because instead of greeting him with\nthe accustomed smile, she caught the bosom of his silk robe in\none quivering little hand,--and looked into his face with eyes\nthat seemed to search for some shred of a soul,--and tried to\nspeak, but could utter only the single word, \"_Anata(1)?_\" Almost\nin the same moment her weak grasp loosened, her eyes\nclosed with a strange smile; and even before he could put out his\narms to support her, she fell. He sought to lift her. But\nsomething in the delicate life had snapped. She was dead.\n\nThere were astonishments, of course, and tears, and useless\ncallings of her name, and much running for doctors. But she lay\nwhite and still and beautiful, all the pain and anger gone out of\nher face, and smiling as on her bridal day.\n\nTwo physicians came from the public hospital,--Japanese military\nsurgeons. They asked straight hard questions,--questions that cut\nopen the self of the man down to the core. Then they told him\ntruth cold and sharp as edged steel,--and left him with his dead.\n\n\nThe people wondered he did not become a priest,--fair evidence\nthat his conscience had been awakened. By day he sits among his\nbales of Kyoto silks and Osaka figured goods,--earnest and\nsilent. His clerks think him a good master; he never speaks\nharshly. Often he works far into the night; and he has changed\nhis dwelling-place. There are strangers in the pretty house where\nHaru lived; and the owner never visits it. Perhaps because he\nmight see there one slender shadow, still arranging flowers, or\nbending with iris-grace above the goldfish in his pond. But\nwherever he rest, sometime in the silent hours he must see the\nsame soundless presence near his pillow,--sewing, smoothing,\nsoftly seeming to make beautiful the robes he once put on only to\nbetray. And at other times--in the busiest moments of his busy\nlife--the clamor of the great shop dies; the ideographs of his\nledger dim and vanish; and a plaintive little voice, which the\ngods refuse to silence, utters into the solitude of his heart,\nlike a question, the single word,--\"_Anata?_\"\n(1) \"Thou?\"\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nA GLIMPSE OP TENDENCIES\n\nI\n\nThe foreign concession of an open port offers a striking contrast\nto its far-Eastern environment. In the well-ordered ugliness of\nits streets one finds suggestions of places not on this side of\nthe world,--just as though fragments of the Occident had been\nmagically brought oversea: bits of Liverpool, of Marseilles, of\nNew York, of New Orleans, and bits also of tropical towns in\ncolonies twelve or fifteen thousand miles away. The mercantile\nbuildings--immense by comparison with the low light Japanese\nshops--seem to utter the menace of financial power. The\ndwellings, of every conceivable design--from that of an Indian\nbungalow to that of an English or French country-manor, with\nturrets and bow-windows--are surrounded by commonplace gardens of\nclipped shrubbery; the white roadways are solid and level as\ntables, and bordered with boxed-up trees. Nearly all things\nconventional in England or America have been domiciled in these\ndistricts. You see church-steeples and factory-chimneys and\ntelegraph-poles and street-lamps. You see warehouses of imported\nbrick with iron shutters, and shop fronts with plate-glass\nwindows, and sidewalks, and cast-iron railings. There are morning\nand evening and weekly newspapers; clubs and reading-rooms and\nbowling alleys; billiard halls and barrooms; schools and bethels.\nThere are electric-light and telephone companies; hospitals,\ncourts, jails, and a foreign police. There are foreign lawyers,\ndoctors, and druggists; foreign grocers, confectioners, bakers,\ndairymen; foreign dress-makers and tailors; foreign\nschool-teachers and music-teachers. There is a town-hall, for\nmunicipal business and public meetings of all kinds,--likewise\nfor amateur theatricals or lectures and concerts; and very rarely\nsome dramatic company, on a tour of the world, halts there awhile\nto make men laugh and women cry like they used to do at home.\nThere are cricket-grounds, racecourses, public parks,--or, as we\nshould call them in England, \"squares,\"--yachting associations,\nathletic societies, and swimming baths. Among the familiar noises\nare the endless tinkling of piano-practice, the crashing of a\ntown-band, and an occasional wheezing of accordions: in fact, one\nmisses only the organ-grinder. The population is English, French,\nGerman, American, Danish, Swedish, Swiss, Russian, with a thin\nsprinkling of Italians and Levantines. I had almost forgotten the\nChinese. They are present in multitude, and have a little corner\nof the district to themselves. But the dominant element is\nEnglish and American, the English being in the majority. All the\nfaults and some of the finer qualities of the masterful races can\nbe studied here to better advantage than beyond seas,--because\neverybody knows all about everybody else in communities so\nsmall,--mere oases of Occidental life in the vast unknown of the\nFar East. Ugly stories may be heard which are not worth writing\nabout; also stories of nobility and generosity--about good brave\nthings done by men who pretend to be selfish, and wear\nconventional masks to hide what is best in them from public\nknowledge.\n\nBut the domains of the foreigner do not stretch beyond the\ndistance of an easy walk, and may shrink back again into nothing\nbefore many years--for reasons I shall presently dwell upon. His\nsettlements developed precociously,--almost like \"mushroom\ncities\" in the great American West,--and reached the apparent\nlimit of their development soon after solidifying.\n\nAbout and beyond the concession, the \"native town\"--the real\nJapanese city--stretches away into regions imperfectly known. To\nthe average settler this native town remains a world of\nmysteries; he may not think it worth his while to enter it for\nten years at a time. It has no interest for him, as he is not a\nstudent of native customs, but simply a man of business; and he\nhas no time to think how queer it all is. Merely to cross the\nconcession line is almost the same thing as to cross the Pacific\nOcean,--which is much less wide than the difference between the\nraces. Enter alone into the interminable narrow maze of Japanese\nstreets, and the dogs will bark at you, and the children stare at\nyou as if you were the only foreigner they ever saw. Perhaps they\nwill even call after you \"Ijin,\" \"Tojin,\" or \"Ke-tojin,\"--the\nlast of which signifies \"hairy foreigner,\" and is not intended as\na compliment.\n\n\nII\n\nFor a long time the merchants of the concessions had their own\nway in everything, and forced upon the native firms methods of\nbusiness to which no Occidental merchant would think of\nsubmitting,--methods which plainly expressed the foreign\nconviction that all Japanese were tricksters. No foreigner would\nthen purchase anything until it had been long enough in his hands\nto be examined and re-examined and \"exhaustively\" examined,--or\naccept any order for imports unless the order were accompanied by\n\"a substantial payment of bargain money\"(1). Japanese buyers and\nsellers protested in vain; they found themselves obliged to\nsubmit. But they bided their time,--yielding only with the\ndetermination to conquer. The rapid growth of the foreign town,\nand the immense capital successfully invested therein, proved to\nthem how much they would have to learn before being able to help\nthemselves. They wondered without admiring, and traded with the\nforeigners or worked for them, while secretly detesting them. In\nold Japan the merchant ranked below the common peasant; but these\nforeign invaders assumed the tone of princes and the insolence of\nconquerors. As employers they were usually harsh, and sometimes\nbrutal. Nevertheless they were wonderfully wise in the matter of\nmaking money; they lived like kings and paid high salaries. It\nwas desirable that young men should suffer in their service for\nthe sake of learning things which would have to be learned to\nsave the country from passing under foreign rule. Some day Japan\nwould have a mercantile marine of her own, and foreign banking\nagencies, and foreign credit, and be well able to rid herself of\nthese haughty strangers: in the meanwhile they should be endured\nas teachers.\n\nSo the import and export trade remained entirely in foreign\nhands, and it grew from nothing to a value of hundreds of\nmillions; and Japan was well exploited. But she knew that she was\nonly paying to learn; and her patience was of that kind which\nendures so long as to be mistaken for oblivion of injuries. Her\nopportunities came in the natural order of things. The growing\ninflux of aliens seeking fortune gave her the first advantage.\nThe intercompetition for Japanese trade broke down old methods;\nand new firms being glad to take orders and risks without\n\"bargain-money,\" large advance-payments could no longer be\nexacted. The relations between foreigners and Japanese\nsimultaneously improved,--as the latter showed a dangerous\ncapacity for sudden combination against ill-treatment, could not\nbe cowed by revolvers, would not suffer abuse of any sort, and\nknew how to dispose of the most dangerous rowdy in the space of a\nfew minutes. Already the rougher Japanese of the ports, the dregs\nof the populace, were ready to assume the aggressive on the least\nprovocation.\n\nWithin two decades from the founding of the settlements, those\nforeigners who once imagined it a mere question of time when the\nwhole country would belong to them, began to understand how\ngreatly they had underestimated the race. The Japanese had been\nlearning wonderfully well--\"nearly as well as the Chinese.\" They\nwere supplanting the small foreign shopkeepers; and various\nestablishments had been compelled to close because of Japanese\ncompetition. Even for large firms the era of easy fortune-making\nwas over; the period of hard work was commencing. In early days\nall the personal wants of foreigners had necessarily been\nsupplied by foreigners,--so that a large retail trade had grown\nup under the patronage of the wholesale trade. The retail trade\nof the settlements was evidently doomed. Some of its branches had\ndisappeared; the rest were visibly diminishing.\n\nTo-day the economic foreign clerk or assistant in a business\nhouse cannot well afford to live at the local hotels. He can hire\na Japanese cook at a very small sum per month, or can have his\nmeals sent him from a Japanese restaurant at five to seven sen\nper plate. He lives in a house constructed in \"semi-foreign\nstyle,\" and owned by a Japanese. The carpets or mattings on his\nfloor are of Japanese manufacture. His furniture is supplied by a\nJapanese cabinet-maker. His suits, shirts, shoes, walking-cane,\numbrella, are \"Japanese make\": even the soap on his washstand is\nstamped with Japanese ideographs. If a smoker, he buys his Manila\ncigars from a Japanese tobacconist half a dollar cheaper per box\nthan any foreign house would charge him for the same quality. If\nhe wants books he can buy them at much lower prices from a\nJapanese than from a foreign book dealer,--and select his\npurchases from a much larger and better-selected stock. If he\nwants a photograph taken he goes to a Japanese gallery: no\nforeign photographer could make a living in Japan. If he wants\ncurios he visits a Japanese house;--the foreign dealer would\ncharge him a hundred per cent. dearer.\n\nOn the other hand, if he be a man of family, his daily marketing\nis supplied by Japanese butchers, fishmongers, dairymen,\nfruit-sellers, vegetable dealers. He may continue for a time to\nbuy English or American hams, bacon, canned goods, etc., from\nsome foreign provision dealer; but he has discovered that\nJapanese stores now offer the same class of goods at lower\nprices. If he drinks good beer, it probably comes from a Japanese\nbrewery; and if he wants a good quality of ordinary wine or\nliquor, Japanese storekeepers can supply it at rates below those\nof the foreign importer. Indeed, the only things he cannot buy\nfrom the Japanese houses are just those things which he cannot\nafford,--high-priced goods such as only rich men are likely to\npurchase. And finally, if any of his family become sick, he can\nconsult a Japanese physician who will charge him a fee perhaps\none tenth less than he would have had to pay a foreign physician\nin former times. Foreign doctors now find it very hard to\nlive,--unless they have something more than their practice to\nrely upon. Even when the foreign doctor brings down his fee to a\ndollar a visit, the high-class Japanese doctor can charge two,\nand still crush competition; for, he furnishes the medicine\nhimself at prices which would ruin a foreign apothecary. There\nare doctors and doctors, of course, as in all countries; but the\nGerman-speaking Japanese physician capable of directing a public\nor military hospital is not easily surpassed in his profession;\nand the average foreign physician cannot possibly compete with\nhim. He furnishes no prescriptions to be taken to a drugstore:\nhis drugstore is either at home or in a room of the hospital he\ndirects.\n\n\nThese facts, taken at random out of a multitude, imply that\nforeign shops or as we call them in America, \"stores,\" will soon\ncease to be. The existence of some has been prolonged only by\nneedless and foolish trickery on the part of some petty Japanese\ndealers,--attempts to sell abominable decoctions in foreign\nbottles under foreign labels, to adulterate imported goods, or to\nimitate trade-marks. But the common sense of the Japanese\ndealers, as a mass, is strongly opposed to such immorality, and\nthe evil will soon correct itself. The native storekeepers can\nhonestly undersell the foreign ones, because able not only to\nunderlive them, but to make fortunes during the competition.\n\nThis has been for some time well recognized in the concessions.\nBut the delusion prevailed that the great exporting and importing\nfirms were impregnable; that they could still control the whole\nvolume of commerce with the West; and that no Japanese companies\ncould find means to oppose the weight of foreign capital, or to\nacquire the business methods according to which it was employed.\nCertainly the retail trade would go. But that signified little.\nThe great firms would remain and multiply, and would increase\ntheir capacities.\n\n(1) See Japan Mail, July 21, 1895.\n\n\nIII\n\nDuring all this time of outward changes the real feeling between\nthe races--the mutual dislike of Oriental and Occidental--had\ncontinued to grow. Of the nine or ten English papers published in\nthe open ports, the majority expressed, day after day, one side\nof this dislike, in the language of ridicule or contempt; and a\npowerful native press retorted in kind, with dangerous\neffectiveness. If the \"anti-Japanese\" newspapers did not actually\nrepresent--as I believe they did--an absolute majority in\nsentiment, they represented at least the weight of foreign\ncapital, and the preponderant influences of the settlements. The\nEnglish \"pro-Japanese\" newspapers, though conducted by shrewd\nmen, and distinguished by journalistic abilities of no common\norder, could not appease the powerful resentment provoked by the\nlanguage of their contemporaries. The charges of barbarism or\nimmorality printed in English were promptly answered by the\npublication in Japanese dailies of the scandals of the open\nports,--for all the millions of the empire to know. The race\nquestion was carried into Japanese politics by a strong\nanti-foreign league; the foreign concessions were openly denounced as\nhotbeds of vice; and the national anger became so formidable that\nonly the most determined action on the part of the government\ncould have prevented disastrous happenings. Nevertheless oil was\nstill poured on the smothered fire by foreign editors, who at the\noutbreak of the war with China openly took the part of China.\nThis policy was pursued throughout the campaign. Reports of\nimaginary reverses were printed recklessly, undeniable victories\nwere unjustly belittled, and after the war had been decided, the\ncry was raised that the Japanese \"had been allowed to become\ndangerous\" Later on, the interference of Russia was applauded and\nthe sympathy of England condemned by men of English blood. The\neffect of such utterances at such a time was that of insult never\nto be forgiven upon a people who never forgive. Utterances of\nhate they were, but also utterances of alarm,--alarm excited by\nthe signing of those new treaties, bringing all aliens under\nJapanese jurisdiction,--and fear, not unfounded, of another\nanti-foreign agitation with the formidable new sense of national\npower behind it. Premonitory symptoms of such agitation were\nreally apparent in a general tendency to insult or jeer at\nforeigners, and in some rare but exemplary acts of violence. The\ngovernment again found it necessary to issue proclamations and\nwarnings against such demonstrations of national anger; and they\nceased almost as quickly as they began. But there is no doubt\nthat their cessation was due largely to recognition of the\nfriendly attitude of England as a naval power, and the worth of\nher policy to Japan in a moment of danger to the world's peace.\nEngland, too, had first rendered treaty-revision possible,--in\nspite of the passionate outcries of her own subjects in the Far\nEast; and the leaders of the people were grateful. Otherwise the\nhatred between settlers and Japanese might have resulted quite as\nbadly as had been feared.\n\nIn the beginning, of course, this mutual antagonism was racial,\nand therefore natural; and the irrational violence of prejudice\nand malignity developed at a later day was inevitable with the\never-increasing conflict of interests. No foreigner really\ncapable of estimating the conditions could have seriously\nentertained any hope of a rapprochement. The barriers of racial\nfeeling, of emotional differentiation, of language, of manners\nand beliefs, are likely to remain insurmountable for centuries.\nThough instances of warm friendship, due to the mutual attraction\nof exceptional natures able to divine each other intuitively,\nmight be cited, the foreigner, as a general rule, understands the\nJapanese quite as little as the Japanese understands him. What is\nworse for the alien than miscomprehension is the simple fact that\nhe is in the position of an invader. Under no ordinary\ncircumstances need he expect to be treated like a Japanese, and\nthis not merely because he has more money at his command, but\nbecause of his race. One price for the foreigner, another for the\nJapanese, is the common regulation,--except in those Japanese\nstores which depend almost exclusively upon foreign trade. If you\nwish to enter a Japanese theatre, a figure-show, any place of\namusement, or even an inn, you must pay a virtual tax upon your\nnationality. Japanese artisans, laborers, clerks, will not work\nfor you at Japanese rates--unless they have some other object in\nview than wages. Japanese hotel-keepers--except in those hotels\nbuilt and furnished especially for European or American\ntravelers--will not make out your bill at regular prices. Large\nhotel-companies have been formed which maintain this rule,--\ncompanies controlling scores of establishments throughout the\ncountry, and able to dictate terms to local storekeepers and to\nthe smaller hostelries. It has been generously confessed that\nforeigners ought to pay higher than Japanese for accommodation,\nsince they give more trouble; and this is true. But under even\nthese facts race-feeling is manifest. Those innkeepers who build\nfor Japanese custom only, in the great centres, care nothing for\nforeign custom, and often lose by it,--partly because well-paying\nnative guests do not like hotels patronized by foreigners, and\npartly because the Western guest wants all to himself the room\nwhich can be rented more profitably to a Japanese party of five\nor eight. Another fact not generally understood in connection\nwith this is that in Old Japan the question of recompense for\nservice was left to honor. The Japanese innkeeper always supplied\n(and in the country often still supplies) food at scarcely more\nthan cost; and his real profit depended upon the conscience of\nthe customer. Hence the importance of the chadai, or present of\ntea-money, to the hotel. From the poor a very small sum, from the\nrich a larger sum, was expected,--according to services rendered.\nIn like manner the hired servant expected to be remunerated\naccording to his master's ability to pay, even more than\naccording to the value of the work done; the artist preferred,\nwhen working for a good patron, never to name a price: only the\nmerchant tried to get the better of his customers by bargaining,\n--the immoral privilege of his class. It may be readily imagined\nthat the habit of trusting to honor for payment produced no good\nresults in dealing with Occidentals. All matters of buying and\nselling we think of as \"business\"; and business in the West is\nnot conducted under purely abstract ideas of morality, but at\nbest under relative and partial ideas of morality. A generous man\nextremely dislikes to have the price of an article which he wants\nto buy left to his conscience; for, unless he knows exactly the\nvalue of the material and the worth of the labor, he feels\nobliged to make such over-payment as will assure him that he has\ndone more than right; while the selfish man takes advantage of\nthe situation to give as nearly next to nothing as he can.\nSpecial rates have to be made, therefore, by the Japanese in all\ndealings with foreigners. But the dealing itself is made more or\nless aggressive, according to circumstance, because of race\nantagonism. The foreigner has not only to pay higher rates for\nevery kind of skilled labor; but must sign costlier leases, and\nsubmit to higher rents. Only the lowest class of Japanese\nservants can be hired even at high wages by a foreign household;\nand their stay is usually brief, as they dislike the service\nrequired of them. Even the apparent eagerness of educated\nJapanese to enter foreign employ is generally misunderstood;\ntheir veritable purpose being simply, in most cases, to fit\nthemselves for the same sort of work in Japanese business houses,\nstores, and hotels. The average Japanese would prefer to work\nfifteen hours a day for one of his own countrymen than eight\nhours a day for a foreigner paying higher wages. I have seen\ngraduates of the university working as servants; but they were\nworking only to learn special things.\n\n\nIV\n\nReally the dullest foreigner could not have believed that a\npeople of forty millions, uniting all their energies to achieve\nabsolute national independence, would remain content to leave the\nmanagement of their country's import and export trade to aliens,\n--especially in view of the feeling in the open ports. The\nexistence of foreign settlements in Japan, under consular\njurisdiction, was in itself a constant exasperation to national\npride,--an indication of national weakness. It had so been\nproclaimed in print,--in speeches by members of the anti-foreign\nleague,--in speeches made in parliament. But knowledge of the\nnational desire to control the whole of Japanese commerce, and\nthe periodical manifestations of hostility to foreigners as\nsettlers, excited only temporary uneasiness. It was confidently\nasserted that the Japanese could only injure themselves by any\nattempt to get rid of foreign negotiators. Though alarmed at the\nprospect of being brought under Japanese law, the merchants of\nthe concessions never imagined a successful attack upon large\ninterests possible, except by violation of that law itself. It\nsignified little that the Nippon Yusen Kwaisha had become, during\nthe war, one of the largest steamship companies in the world;\nthat Japan was trading directly with India and China; that\nJapanese banking agencies were being established in the great\nmanufacturing centres abroad; that Japanese merchants were\nsending their sons to Europe and America for a sound commercial\neducation. Because Japanese lawyers were gaining a large foreign\nclientele; because Japanese shipbuilders, architects, engineers\nhad replaced foreigners in government service, it did not at all\nfollow that the foreign agents controlling the import and export\ntrade with Europe and America could be dispensed with. The\nmachinery of commerce would be useless in Japanese hands; and\ncapacity for other professions by no means augured latent\ncapacity for business. The foreign capital invested in Japan\ncould not be successfully threatened by any combinations formed\nagainst it. Some Japanese houses might carry on a small import\nbusiness, but the export trade required a thorough knowledge of\nbusiness conditions on the other side of the world, and such\nconnections and credits as the Japanese could not obtain.\nNevertheless the self-confidence of the foreign importers, and\nexporters was rudely broken in July, 1895, when a British house\nhaving brought suit against a Japanese company in a Japanese\ncourt, for refusal to accept delivery of goods ordered, and\nhaving won a judgment for nearly thirty thousand dollars,\nsuddenly found itself confronted and menaced by a guild whose\npower had never been suspected. The Japanese firm did not appeal\nagainst the decision of the court: it expressed itself ready to\npay the whole sum at once--if required. But the guild to which it\nbelonged informed the triumphant plaintiffs that a compromise\nwould be to their advantage. Then the English house discovered\nitself threatened with a boycott which could utterly ruin it,--a\nboycott operating in all the industrial centres of the Empire.\nThe compromise was promptly effected at considerable loss to the\nforeign firm; and the settlements were dismayed. There was much\ndenunciation of the immorality of the proceeding(1). But it was a\nproceeding against which the law could do nothing; for boycotting\ncannot be satisfactorily dealt with under law; and it\nafforded proof positive that the Japanese were able to force\nforeign firms to submit to their dictation,--by foul means if not\nby fair. Enormous guilds had been organized by the great\nindustries,--combinations whose moves, perfectly regulated by\ntelegraph, could ruin opposition, and could set at defiance even\nthe judgment of tribunals. The Japanese had attempted boycotting\nin previous years with so little success that they were deemed\nincapable of combination. But the new situation showed how well\nthey had learned through defeat, and that with further\nimprovement of organization they could reasonably expect to get\nthe foreign trade under control,--if not into their own hands. It\nwould be the next great step toward the realization of the\nnational desire,--Japan only for the Japanese. Even though the\ncountry should be opened to foreign settlement, foreign\ninvestments would always be at the mercy of Japanese\ncombinations.\n\n(1) A Kobe merchant of great experience, writing to the Kobe\nChronicle of August 7, 1895, observed:--\"I am not attempting to\ndefend boycotts; but I firmly believe from what has come to my\nknowledge that in each and every case there has been provocation\nirritating the Japanese, rousing their feelings and their sense\nof justice, and driving them to combination as a defense.\"\n\n\nV\n\nThe foregoing brief account of existing conditions may suffice to\nprove the evolution in Japan of a social phenomenon of great\nsignificance. Of course the prospective opening of the country\nunder new treaties, the rapid development of its industries, and\nthe vast annual increase in the volume of trade with America and\nEurope, will probably bring about some increase of foreign\nsettlers; and this temporary result might deceive many as to the\ninevitable drift of things. But old merchants of experience even\nnow declare that the probable further expansion of the ports will\nreally mean the growth of a native competitive commerce that must\neventually dislodge foreign merchants. The foreign settlements,\nas communities, will disappear: there will remain only some few\ngreat agencies, such as exist in all the chief ports of the\ncivilized world; and the abandoned streets of the concessions,\nand the costly foreign houses on the heights, will be peopled and\ntenanted by Japanese. Large foreign investments will not be made\nin the interior. And even Christian mission-work must be left to\nnative missionaries; for just as Buddhism never took definite\nform in Japan until the teaching of its doctrines was left\nentirely to Japanese priests,--so Christianity will never take\nany fixed shape till it has been so remodeled as to harmonize\nwith the emotional and social life of the race. Even thus\nremodeled it can scarcely hope to exist except in the form of a\nfew small sects.\n\nThe social phenomenon exhibited can be best explained by a\nsimile. In many ways a human society may be compared biologically\nwith an individual organism. Foreign elements introduced forcibly\ninto the system of either, and impossible to assimilate, set up\nirritations and partial disintegration, until eliminated\nnaturally or removed artificially. Japan is strengthening herself\nthrough elimination of disturbing elements; and this natural\nprocess is symbolized in the resolve to regain possession of all\nthe concessions, to bring about the abolishment of consular\njurisdiction, to leave nothing under foreign control within the\nEmpire. It is also manifested in the dismissal of foreign\nemployes, in the resistance offered by Japanese congregations to\nthe authority of foreign missionaries, and in the resolute\nboycotting of foreign merchants. And behind all this\nrace-movement there is more than race-feeling: there is also the\ndefinite conviction that foreign help is proof of national\nfeebleness, and that the Empire remains disgraced before the eyes\nof the commercial world, so long as its import and export trade\nare managed by aliens. Several large Japanese firms have quite\nemancipated themselves from the domination of foreign middlemen;\nlarge trade with India and China is being carried on by Japanese\nsteamship companies; and communication with the Southern States\nof America is soon to be established by the Nippon Yusen Kwaisha,\nfor the direct importation of cotton. But the foreign settlements\nremain constant sources of irritation; and their commercial\nconquest by untiring national effort will alone satisfy the\ncountry, and will prove, even better than the war with China,\nJapan's real place among nations. That conquest, I think, will\ncertainly be achieved.\n\n\nVI\n\nWhat of the future of Japan? No one can venture any positive\nprediction on the assumption that existing tendencies will\ncontinue far into that future. Not to dwell upon the grim\nprobabilities of war, or the possibility of such internal\ndisorder as might compel indefinite suspension of the\nconstitution, and lead to a military dictatorship,--a resurrected\nShogunate in modern uniform,--great changes there will assuredly\nbe, both for better and for worse. Supposing these changes\nnormal, however, one may venture some qualified predictions,\nbased upon the reasonable supposition that the race will\ncontinue, through rapidly alternating periods of action and\nreaction, to assimilate its new-found knowledge with the best\nrelative consequences.\n\n\nPhysically, I think, the Japanese will become before the close of\nthe next century much superior to what they now are. For such\nbelief there are three good reasons. The first is that the\nsystematic military and gymnastic training of the able-bodied\nyouth of the Empire ought in a few generations to produce results\nas marked as those of the military system in Germany,--increase\nin stature, in average girth of chest, in muscular development\nAnother reason is that the Japanese of the cities are taking to a\nricher diet,--a flesh diet; and that a more nutritive food must\nhave physiological results favoring growth. Immense numbers of\nlittle restaurants are everywhere springing up, in which \"Western\nCooking\" is furnished almost as cheaply as Japanese food.\nThirdly, the delay of marriage necessitated by education and by\nmilitary service must result in the production of finer and finer\ngenerations of children. As immature marriages become the\nexception rather than the rule, children of feeble constitution\nwill correspondingly diminish in number. At present the\nextraordinary differences of stature noticeable in any Japanese\ncrowd seem to prove that the race is capable of great physical\ndevelopment under a severer social discipline.\n\nMoral improvement is hardly to be expected--rather the reverse.\nThe old moral ideals of Japan were at least quite as noble as our\nown; and men could really live up to them in the quiet benevolent\ntimes of patriarchal government. Untruthfulness, dishonesty, and\nbrutal crime were rarer than now, as official statistics show,\nthe percentage of crime having been for some years steadily on\nthe increase--which proves of course, among other things, that\nthe struggle for existence has been intensified. The old standard\nof chastity, as represented in public opinion, was that of a less\ndeveloped society than our own; yet I do not believe it can be\ntruthfully asserted that the moral conditions were worse than\nwith us. In one respect they were certainly better; for the\nvirtue of Japanese wives was generally in all ages above\nsuspicion(1). If the morals of men were much more open to\nreproach, it is not necessary to cite Lecky for evidence as to\nwhether a much better state of things prevails in the Occident.\nEarly marriages were encouraged to guard young men from\ntemptations to irregular life; and it is only fair to suppose\nthat in a majority of cases this result was obtained.\nConcubinage, the privilege of the rich, had its evil side; but it\nhad also the effect of relieving the wife from the physical\nstrain of rearing many children in rapid succession. The social\nconditions were so different from those which Western religion\nassumes to be the best possible, that an impartial judgment of\nthem cannot be ecclesiastical. One fact is indisputable,--that\nthey were unfavorable to professional vice; and in many of the\nlarger fortified towns,--the seats of princes,--no houses of\nprostitution were suffered to exist. When all things are fairly\nconsidered, it will be found that Old Japan might claim, in spite\nof her patriarchal system, to have been less open to reproach\neven in the matter of sexual morality than many a Western\ncountry. The people were better than their laws asked them to be.\nAnd now that the relations of the sexes are to be regulated by\nnew codes,--at a time when new codes are really needed, the\nchanges which it is desirable to bring about cannot result in\nimmediate good. Sudden reforms are not made by legislation. Laws\ncannot directly create sentiment; and real social progress can be\nmade only through change of ethical feeling developed by long\ndiscipline and training. Meanwhile increasing pressure of\npopulation and increasing competition must tend, while quickening\nintelligence, to harden character and develop selfishness.\n\n\nIntellectually there will doubtless be great progress, but not a\nprogress so rapid as those who think that Japan has really\ntransformed herself in thirty years would have us believe.\nHowever widely diffused among the people, scientific education\ncannot immediately raise the average of practical intelligence to\nthe Western level. The common capacity must remain lower for\ngenerations. There will be plenty of remarkable exceptions,\nindeed; and a new aristocracy of intellect is coming into\nexistence. But the real future of the nation depends rather upon\nthe general capacity of the many than upon the exceptional\ncapacity of the few. Perhaps it depends especially upon the\ndevelopment of the mathematical faculty, which is being\neverywhere assiduously cultivated. At present this is the weak\npoint; hosts of students being yearly debarred from the more\nimportant classes of higher study through inability to pass in\nmathematics. At the Imperial naval and military colleges,\nhowever, such results have been obtained as suffice to show that\nthis weakness will eventually be remedied. The most difficult\nbranches of scientific study, will become less formidable to the\nchildren of those who have been able to distinguish themselves in\nsuch branches.\n\n\nIn other respects, some temporary retrogression is to be looked\nfor. Just so certainly as Japan has attempted that which is above\nthe normal limit of her powers, so certainly must she fall back\nto that limit, or, rather, below it. Such retrogression will be\nnatural as well as necessary: it will mean nothing more than a\nrecuperative preparation for stronger and loftier efforts. Signs\nof it are even now visible in the working of certain\nstate-departments,--notably in that of education. The idea of\nforcing upon Oriental students a course of study above the\naverage capacity of Western students; the idea of making English\nthe language, or at least one of the languages of the country;\nand the idea of changing ancestral modes of feeling and thinking\nfor the better by such training, were wild extravagances. Japan\nmust develop her own soul: she cannot borrow another. A dear\nfriend whose life has been devoted to philology once said to me\nwhile commenting upon the deterioration of manners among the\nstudents of Japan: \"_Why, the English language itself has been a\ndemoralizing influence!_\" There was much depth in that\nobservation. Setting the whole Japanese nation to study English\n(the language of a people who are being forever preached to about\ntheir \"rights,\" and never about their \"duties\") was almost an\nimprudence. The policy was too wholesale as well as too sudden.\nIt involved great waste of money and time, and it helped to sap\nethical sentiment. In the future Japan will learn English, just\nas England learns German. But if this study has been wasted in\nsome directions, it has not been wasted in others. The influence\nof English has effected modifications in the native tongue,\nmaking it richer, more flexible, and more capable of expressing\nthe new forms of thought created by the discoveries of modern\nscience. This influence must long continue. There will be a\nconsiderable absorption of English--perhaps also of French and\nGerman words--into Japanese: indeed this absorption is already\nmarked in the changing speech of the educated classes, not less\nthan in the colloquial of the ports which is mixed with curious\nmodifications of foreign commercial words. Furthermore, the\ngrammatical structure of Japanese is being influenced; and though\nI cannot agree with a clergyman who lately declared that the use\nof the passive voice by Tokyo street-urchins announcing the fall\nof Port Arthur--(\"_Ryojunko ga senryo sera-reta!_\") represented\nthe working of \"divine providence,\" I do think it afforded some\nproof that the Japanese language, assimilative like the genius of\nthe race, is showing capacity to meet all demands made upon it by\nthe new conditions.\n\n\nPerhaps Japan will remember her foreign teachers more kindly in\nthe twentieth century. But she will never feel toward the\nOccident, as she felt toward China before the Meiji era, the\nreverential respect due by ancient custom to a beloved\ninstructor; for the wisdom of China was voluntarily sought, while\nthat of the West was thrust upon her by violence. She will have\nsome Christian sects of her own; but she will not remember our\nAmerican and English missionaries as she remembers even now those\ngreat Chinese priests who once educated her youth. And she will\nnot preserve relics of our sojourn, carefully wrapped in septuple\ncoverings of silk, and packed away in dainty whitewood boxes,\nbecause we had no new lesson of beauty to teach her,--nothing by\nwhich to appeal to her emotions.\n\n(1) The statement has been made that there is no word for\nchastity in the Japanese language. This is true in the same sense\nonly that we might say there is no word for chastity in the\nEnglish language,--became such words as honor, virtue, purity,\nchastity have been adopted into English from other languages.\nOpen any good Japanese-English dictionary and you will find many\nwords for chastity. Just as it would be ridiculous to deny that\nthe word \"chastity\" is modern English, because it came to us\nthrough the French from the Latin, so it is ridiculous to deny\nthat Chinese moral terms, adopted into the Japanese tongue more\nthan a thousand years ago are Japanese to-day. The statement,\nlike a majority of missionary statements on these subjects, is\notherwise misleading; for the reader is left to infer the absence\nof an adjective as well as a noun,--and the purely Japanese\nadjectives signifying chaste are numerous. The word most commonly\nused applies to both sexes,--and has the old Japanese sense of\nfirm, strict, resisting, honorable. The deficiency of abstract\nterms in a language by no means implies the deficiency of\nconcrete moral ideas,--a fact which has been vainly pointed out\nto missionaries more than once.\n\n\n\nIX\n\nBY FORCE OF KARMA\n\n\"The face of the beloved and the face of the risen sun cannot be\nlooked at.\"--Japanese Proverb.\n\nI\n\nModern science assures us that the passion of first love, so far\nas the individual may be concerned, is \"absolutely antecedent to\nall relative experience whatever(1).\" In other words, that which\nmight well seem to be the most strictly personal of all feelings,\nis not an individual matter at all. Philosophy discovered the\nsame fact long ago, and never theorized more attractively than\nwhen trying to explain the mystery of the passion. Science, so\nfar, has severely limited itself to a few suggestions on the\nsubject. This seems a pity, because the metaphysicians could at\nno time give properly detailed explanations,--whether teaching\nthat the first sight of the beloved quickens in the soul of the\nlover some dormant prenatal remembrance of divine truth, or that\nthe illusion is made by spirits unborn seeking incarnation. But\nscience and philosophy both agree as to one all-important fact,\nthat the lovers themselves have no choice, that they are merely\nthe subjects of an influence. Science is even the more positive\non this point: it states quite plainly that the dead, not the\nliving, are responsible. There would seem to be some sort of\nghostly remembrance in first loves. It is true that science,\nunlike Buddhism, does not declare that under particular\nconditions we may begin to recollect our former lives. That\npsychology which is based upon physiology even denies the\npossibility of memory-inheritance in this individual sense. But\nit allows that something more powerful, though more indefinite,\nis inherited,--the sum of ancestral memories incalculable,--the\nsum of countless billions of trillions of experiences. Thus can\nit interpret our most enigmatical sensations,--our conflicting\nimpulses,--our strangest intuitions; all those seemingly\nirrational attractions or repulsions,--all those vague sadnesses\nor joys, never to be accounted for by individual experience. But\nit has not yet found leisure to discourse much to us about first\nlove,--although first love, in its relation to the world\ninvisible, is the very weirdest of all human feelings, and the\nmost mysterious.\n\nIn our Occident the riddle runs thus. To the growing youth, whose\nlife is normal and vigorous, there comes a sort of atavistic\nperiod in which he begins to feel for the feebler sex that\nprimitive contempt created by mere consciousness of physical\nsuperiority. But it is just at the time when the society of girls\nhas grown least interesting to him that he suddenly becomes\ninsane. There crosses his life-path a maiden never seen\nbefore,--but little different from other daughters of men,--not\nat all wonderful to common vision. At the same instant, with a\nsingle surging shock, the blood rushes to his heart; and all his\nsenses are bewitched. Thereafter, till the madness ends, his life\nbelongs wholly to that new-found being, of whom he yet knows\nnothing, except that the sun's light seems more beautiful when it\ntouches her. From that glamour no mortal science can disenthrall\nhim. But whose the witchcraft? Is it any power in the living\nidol? No, psychology tells us that it is the power of the dead\nwithin the idolater. The dead cast the spell. Theirs the shock in\nthe lover's heart; theirs the electric shiver that tingled\nthrough his veins at the first touch of one girl's hand.\n\nBut why they should want her, rather than any other, is the\ndeeper part of the riddle. The solution offered by the great\nGerman pessimist will not harmonize well with scientific\npsychology. The choice of the dead, evolutionally considered,\nwould be a choice based upon remembrance rather than on\nprescience. And the enigma is not cheerful.\n\nThere is, indeed, the romantic possibility that they want her\nbecause there survives in her, as in some composite photograph,\nthe suggestion of each and all who loved them in the past. But\nthere is the possibility also that they want her because there\nreappears in her something of the multitudinous charm of all the\nwomen they loved in vain.\n\nAssuming the more nightmarish theory, we should believe that\npassion, though buried again and again, can neither die nor rest.\nThey who have vainly loved only seem to die; they really live on\nin generations of hearts, that their desire may be fulfilled.\nThey wait, perhaps though centuries, for the reincarnation of\nshapes beloved,--forever weaving into the dreams of youth their\nvapory composite of memories. Hence the ideals unattainable,--the\nhaunting of troubled souls by the Woman-never-to-be-known.\n\nIn the Far East thoughts are otherwise; and what I am about to\nwrite concerns the interpretation of the Lord Buddha.\n\n(1) Herbert Spencer, Principles of Psychology: \"The Feelings.\"\n\n\nII\n\nA priest died recently under very peculiar circumstances. He was\nthe priest of a temple, belonging to one of the older Buddhist\nsects, in a village near Osaka. (You can see that temple from the\nKwan-Setsu Railway, as you go by train to Kyoto.)\n\nHe was young, earnest, and extremely handsome--very much too\nhandsome for a priest, the women said. He looked like one of\nthose beautiful figures of Amida made by the great Buddhist\nstatuaries of other days.\n\nThe men of his parish thought him a pure and learned priest, in\nwhich they were right. The women did not think about his virtue\nor his learning only: he possessed the unfortunate power to\nattract them, independently of his own will, as a mere man. He\nwas admired by them, and even by women of other parishes also, in\nways not holy; and their admiration interfered with his studies\nand disturbed his meditations. They found irreproachable pretexts\nfor visiting the temple at all hours, just to look at him and\ntalk to him; asking questions which it was his duty to answer,\nand making religious offerings which he could not well refuse.\nSome would ask questions, not of a religious kind, that caused\nhim to blush. He was by nature too gentle to protect himself by\nsevere speech, even when forward girls from the city said things\nthat country-girls never would have said,--things that made him\ntell the speakers to leave his presence. And the more he shrank\nfrom the admiration of the timid, or the adulation of the\nunabashed, the more the persecution increased, till it became the\ntorment of his life(1).\n\nHis parents had long been dead; he had no worldly ties: he loved\nonly his calling, and the studies belonging to it; and he did not\nwish to think of foolish and forbidden things. His extraordinary\nbeauty--the beauty of a living idol--was only a misfortune.\nWealth was offered him under conditions that he could not even\ndiscuss. Girls threw themselves at his feet, and prayed him in\nvain to love them. Love-letters were constantly being sent to\nhim, letters which never brought a reply. Some were written in\nthat classical enigmatic style which speaks of \"the Rock-Pillow\nof Meeting,\" and \"waves on the shadow of a face,\" and \"streams\nthat part to reunite.\" Others were artless and frankly tender,\nfull of the pathos of a girl's first confession of love.\n\nFor a long time such letters left the young priest as unmoved, to\noutward appearance, as any image of that Buddha in whose likeness\nhe seemed to have been made. But, as a matter of fact, he was not\na Buddha, but only a weak man; and his position was trying.\n\nOne evening there came to the temple a little boy who gave him a\nletter, whispered the name of the sender, and ran away in the\ndark. According to the subsequent testimony of an acolyte, the\npriest read the letter, restored it to its envelope, and placed\nit on the matting, beside his kneeling cushion. After remaining\nmotionless for a long time, as if buried in thought, he sought\nhis writing-box, wrote a letter himself, addressed it to his\nspiritual superior, and left it upon the writing-stand. Then he\nconsulted the clock, and a railway time-table in Japanese. The\nhour was early; the night windy and dark. He prostrated himself\nfor a moment in prayer before the altar; then hurried out into\nthe blackness, and reached the railway exactly in time to kneel\ndown in the middle of the track, facing the roar and rush of the\nexpress from Kobe. And, in another moment, those who had\nworshiped the strange beauty of the man would have shrieked to\nsee, even by lantern-light, all that remained of his poor\nearthliness, smearing the iron way.\n\n\n\nThe letter written to his superior was found. It contained a bare\nstatement to the effect that, feeling his spiritual strength\ndeparting from him, he had resolved to die in order that he might\nnot sin.\n\nThe other letter was still lying where he had left it on the\nfloor,--a letter written in that woman-language of which every\nsyllable is a little caress of humility. Like all such letters\n(they are never sent through the post) it contained no date, no\nname, no initial, and its envelope bore no address. Into our\nincomparably harsher English speech it might be imperfectly\nrendered as follows:--\n\n_To take such freedom may be to assume overmuch; yet I feel that\nI must speak to you, and therefore send this letter. As for my\nlowly self, I have to say only that when first seeing you in the\nperiod of the Festival of the Further Shore, I began to think;\nand that since then I have not, even for a moment, been able to\nforget. More and more each day I sink into that ever-growing\nthought of you; and when I sleep I dream; and when, awaking and\nseeing you not, I remember there was no truth in my thoughts of\nthe night, I can do nothing but weep. Forgive me that, having\nbeen born into this world a woman, I should utter my wish for the\nexceeding favor of being found not hateful to one so high.\nFoolish and without delicacy I may seem in allowing my heart to\nbe thus tortured by the thought of one so far above me. But only\nbecause knowing that I cannot restrain my heart, out of the depth\nof it I have suffered these poor words to come, that I may write\nthem with my unskillful brush, and send them to you. I pray that\nyou will deem me worthy of pity; I beseech that you will not send\nme cruel words in return. Compassionate me, seeing that this is\nbut the overflowing of my humble feelings; deign to divine and\njustly to judge,--be it only with the least of kindliness,--this\nheart that, in its great distress alone, so ventures to address\nyou. Each moment I shall hope and wait for some gladdening\nanswer_.\n\n_Concerning all things fortunate, felicitation_.\n\n_To-day,--\nfrom the honorably-known,\nto the longed-for, beloved, august one,\nthis letter goes._\n\n(1) Actors in Japan often exercise a similar fascination upon\nsensitive girls of the lower classes, and often take cruel\nadvantage of the power so gained. It is very rarely, indeed, that\nsuch fascination can be exerted by a priest.\n\n\nIII\n\nI called upon a Japanese friend, a Buddhist scholar, to ask some\nquestions about the religious aspects of the incident. Even as a\nconfession of human weakness, that suicide appeared to me a\nheroism.\n\nIt did not so appear to my friend. He spoke words of rebuke. He\nreminded me that one who even suggested suicide as a means of\nescape from sin had been pronounced by the Buddha a spiritual\noutcast,--unfit to live with holy men. As for the dead priest, he\nhad been one of those whom the Teacher called fools. Only a fool\ncould imagine that by destroying his own body he was destroying\nalso within himself the sources of sin.\n\n\"But,\" I protested, \"this man's life was pure.... Suppose he\nsought death that he might not, unwittingly, cause others to\ncommit sin?\"\n\nMy friend smiled ironically. Then he said:--\"There was once a\nlady of Japan, nobly torn and very beautiful, who wanted to\nbecome a nun. She went to a certain temple, and made her wish\nknown. But the high-priest said to her, 'You are still very\nyoung. You have lived the life of courts. To the eyes of worldly\nmen you are beautiful; and, because of your face, temptations to\nreturn to the pleasures of the world will be devised for you.\nAlso this wish of yours may be due to some momentary sorrow.\nTherefore, I cannot now consent to your request.' But she still\npleaded so earnestly, that he deemed it best to leave her\nabruptly. There was a large hibachi--a brazier of glowing\ncharcoal--in the room where she found herself alone. She heated\nthe iron tongs of the brazier till they were red, and with them\nhorribly pierced and seamed her face, destroying her beauty\nforever. Then the priest, alarmed by the smell of the burning,\nreturned in haste, and was very much grieved by what he saw. But\nshe pleaded again, without any trembling in her voice: 'Because I\nwas beautiful, you refused to take me. Will you take me now?' She\nwas accepted into the Order, and became a holy nun.... Well,\nwhich was the wiser, that woman, or the priest you wanted to\npraise?\"\n\n\"But was it the duty of the priest,\" I asked, \"to disfigure his\nface?\"\n\n\"Certainly not! Even the woman's action would have been very\nunworthy if done only as a protection against temptation.\nSelf-mutilation of any sort is forbidden by the law of Buddha; and\nshe transgressed. But, as she burned her face only that she might\nbe able to enter at once upon the Path, and not because afraid of\nbeing unable by her own will to resist sin, her fault was a minor\nfault. On the other hand, the priest who took his own life\ncommitted a very great offense. He should have tried to convert\nthose who tempted him. This he was too weak to do. If he felt it\nimpossible to keep from sinning as a priest, then it would have\nbeen better for him to return to the world, and there try to\nfollow the law for such as do not belong to the Order.\"\n\n\"According to Buddhism, therefore, he has obtained no merit?\" I\nqueried.\n\n\"It is not easy to imagine that he has. Only by those ignorant of\nthe Law can his action be commended.\"\n\n\"And by those knowing the Law, what will be thought of the\nresults, the karma of his act?\"\n\nMy friend mused a little; then he said, thoughtfully:--\"The whole\ntruth of that suicide we cannot fully know. Perhaps it was not\nthe first time.\"\n\n\"Do you mean that in some former life also he may have tried to\nescape from sin by destroying his own body?\"\n\n\"Yes. Or in many former lives.\"\n\n\"What of his future lives?\"\n\n\"Only a Buddha could answer that with certain knowledge.\"\n\n\"But what is the teaching?\"\n\n\"You forget that it is not possible for us to know what was in\nthe mind of that man.\"\n\n\"Suppose that he sought death only to escape from sinning?\"\n\n\"Then he will have to face the like temptation again and again,\nand all the sorrow of it, and all the pain, even for a thousand\ntimes a thousand times, until he shall have learned to master\nhimself. There is no escape through death from the supreme\nnecessity of self-conquest.\"\n\n\nAfter parting with my friend, his words continued to haunt me;\nand they haunt me still. They forced new thoughts about some\ntheories hazarded in the first part of this paper. I have not yet\nbeen able to assure myself that his weird interpretation of the\namatory mystery is any less worthy of consideration than our\nWestern interpretations. I have been wondering whether the loves\nthat lead to death might not mean much more than the ghostly\nhunger of buried passions. Might they not signify also the\ninevitable penalty of long-forgotten sins?\n\n\n\nX\n\n\nA CONSERVATIVE\n\nAmazakaru\nHi no iru kuni ni\nKite wa aredo,\nYamato-nishiki no\nIro wa kawaraji.\n\nI\n\nHe was born in a city of the interior, the seat of a daimyo of\nthree hundred thousand koku, where no foreigner had ever been.\nThe yashiki of his father, a samurai of high rank, stood within\nthe outer fortifications surrounding the prince's castle. It was\na spacious yashiki; and behind it and around it were landscape\ngardens, one of which contained a small shrine of the god of\narmies. Forty years ago there were many such homes. To artist\neyes the few still remaining seem like fairy palaces, and their\ngardens like dreams of the Buddhist paradise.\n\nBut sons of samurai were severely disciplined in those days; and\nthe one of whom I write had little time for dreaming. The period\nof caresses was made painfully brief for him. Even before he was\ninvested with his first hakama, or trousers,--a great ceremony in\nthat epoch,--he was weaned as far as possible from tender\ninfluence, and taught to check the natural impulses of childish\naffection. Little comrades would ask him mockingly, \"Do you still\nneed milk?\" if they saw him walking out with his mother, although\nhe might love her in the house as demonstratively as he pleased,\nduring the hours he could pass by her side. These were not many.\nAll inactive pleasures were severely restricted by his\ndiscipline; and even comforts, except during illness, were not\nallowed him. Almost from the time he could speak he was enjoined\nto consider duty the guiding motive of life, self-control the\nfirst requisite of conduct, pain and death matters of no\nconsequence in the selfish sense.\n\nThere was a grimmer side to this Spartan discipline, designed to\ncultivate a cold sternness never to be relaxed during youth,\nexcept in the screened intimacy of the home. The boys were inured\nto sights of blood. They were taken to witness executions; they\nwere expected to display no emotion; and they were obliged, on\ntheir return home, to quell any secret feeling of horror by\neating plentifully of rice tinted blood-color by an admixture of\nsalted plum juice. Even more difficult things might be demanded\nof a very young boy,--to go alone at midnight to the\nexecution-ground, for example, and bring back a head in proof of\ncourage. For the fear of the dead was held not less contemptible\nin a samurai than the fear of man. The samurai child was pledged\nto fear nothing. In all such tests, the demeanor exacted was\nperfect impassiveness; any swaggering would have been judged\nquite as harshly as any sign of cowardice.\n\nAs a boy grew up, he was obliged to find his pleasures chiefly in\nthose bodily exercises which were the samurai's early and\nconstant preparations for war,--archery and riding, wrestling and\nfencing. Playmates were found for him; but these were older\nyouths, sons of retainers, chosen for ability to assist him in\nthe practice of martial exercises. It was their duty also to\nteach him how to swim, to handle a boat, to develop his young\nmuscles. Between such physical training and the study of the\nChinese classics the greater part of each day was divided for\nhim. His diet, though ample, was never dainty; his clothing,\nexcept in time of great ceremony, was light and coarse; and he\nwas not allowed the use of fire merely to warm himself. While\nstudying of winter mornings, if his hands became too cold to use\nthe writing brush, he would be ordered to plunge them into icy\nwater to restore the circulation; and if his feet were numbed by\nfrost, he would be told to run about in the snow to make them\nwarm. Still more rigid was his training in the special etiquette\nof the military class, and he was early made to know that the\nlittle sword in his girdle was neither an ornament nor a\nplaything. He was shown how to use it, how to take his own life\nat a moment's notice, without shrinking, whenever the code of his\nclass might so order(1).\n\nAlso in the matter of religion, the training of a samurai boy was\npeculiar. He was educated to revere the ancient gods and the\nspirits of his ancestors; he was well schooled in the Chinese\nethics; and he was taught something of Buddhist philosophy and\nfaith. But he was likewise taught that hope of heaven and fear of\nhell were for the ignorant only; and that the superior man should\nbe influenced in his conduct by nothing more selfish than the\nlove of right for its own sake, and the recognition of duty as a\nuniversal law.\n\nGradually, as the period of boyhood ripened into youth, his\nconduct was less subjected to supervision. He was left more and\nmore free to act upon his own judgment,--but with full knowledge\nthat a mistake would not be forgotten; that a serious offense\nwould never be fully condoned, and that a well-merited reprimand\nwas more to be dreaded than death. On the other hand, there were\nfew moral dangers against which to guard him. Professional vice\nwas then strictly banished from many of the provincial\ncastle-towns; and even so much of the non-moral side of life as\nmight have been reflected in popular romance and drama, a young\nsamurai could know little about. He was taught to despise that\ncommon literature appealing either to the softer emotions or the\npassions, as essentially unmanly reading; and the public theatre\nwas forbidden to his class(2). Thus, in that innocent provincial\nlife of Old Japan, a young samurai might grow up exceptionally\npure-minded and simple-hearted.\n\n\nSo grew up the young samurai concerning whom these things are\nwritten,--fearless, courteous, self-denying, despising pleasure,\nand ready at an instant's notice to give his life for love,\nloyalty, or honor. But though already a warrior in frame and\nspirit, he was in years scarcely more than a boy when the country\nwas first startled by the coming of the Black Ships.\n\n\nII\n\nThe policy of Iyemitsu, forbidding any Japanese to leave the\ncountry under pain of death, had left the nation for two hundred\nyears ignorant of the outer world. About the colossal forces\ngathering beyond seas nothing was known. The long existence of\nthe Dutch settlement at Nagasaki had in no wise enlightened Japan\nas to her true position,--an Oriental feudalism of the sixteenth\ncentury menaced by a Western world three centuries older.\nAccounts of the real wonders of that world would have sounded to\nJapanese ears like stories invented to please children, or have\nbeen classed with ancient tales of the fabled palaces of Horai.\nThe advent of the American fleet, \"the Black Ships,\" as they were\nthen called, first awakened the government to some knowledge of\nits own weakness, and of danger from afar.\n\nNational excitement at the news of the second coming of the Black\nShips was followed by consternation at the discovery that the\nShogunate confessed its inability to cope with the foreign\npowers. This could mean only a peril greater than that of the\nTartar invasion in the days of Hojo Tokimune, when the people had\nprayed to the gods for help, and the Emperor himself, at Ise, had\nbesought the spirits of his fathers. Those prayers had been\nanswered by sudden darkness, a sea of thunder, and the coming of\nthat mighty wind still called Kami-kaze,--\"the Wind of the Gods,\"\nby which the fleets of Kublai Khan were given to the abyss. Why\nshould not prayers now also be made? They were, in countless\nhomes and at thousands of shrines. But the Superior Ones gave\nthis time no answer; the Kami-kaze did not come. And the samurai\nboy, praying vainly before the little shrine of Hachiman in his\nfather's garden, wondered if the gods had lost their power, or if\nthe people of the Black Ships were under the protection of\nstronger gods.\n\n(1) \"Is that really the head of your father?\" a prince once asked\nof a samurai boy only seven years old. The child at once realized\nthe situation. The freshly-severed head set before him was not\nhis father's: the daimyo had been deceived, but further deception\nwas necessary. So the lad, after having saluted the head with\nevery sign of reverential grief, suddenly cut out his own bowels.\nAll the prince's doubts vanished before that bloody proof of\nfilial piety; the outlawed father was able to make good his\nescape, and the memory of the child is still honored in Japanese\ndrama and poetry.\n\n(2) Samurai women, in some province, at least, could go to the\npublic theatre. The men could not,--without committing a breach\nof good manners. But in samurai homes, or within the grounds of\nthe yashiki, some private performances of a particular character\nwere given. Strolling players were the performers. I know several\ncharming old samurai who have never been to a public theatre in\ntheir lives, and refuse all invitations to witness a performance.\nThey still obey the rules of their samurai education.\n\n\nIII\n\nIt soon became evident that the foreign \"barbarians\" were not to\nbe driven away. Hundreds had come, from the East as well as from\nthe West; and all possible measures for their protection had been\ntaken; and they had built queer cities of their own upon Japanese\nsoil. The government had even commanded that Western knowledge\nwas to be taught in all schools; that the study of English was to\nbe made an important branch of public education; and that public\neducation itself was to be remodeled upon Occidental lines. The\ngovernment had also declared that the future of the country would\ndepend upon the study and mastery of the languages and the\nscience of the foreigners. During the interval, then, between\nsuch study and its successful results, Japan would practically\nremain under alien domination. The fact was not, indeed, publicly\nstated in so many words; but the signification of the policy was\nunmistakable. After the first violent emotions provoked by\nknowledge of the situation,--after the great dismay of the\npeople, and the suppressed fury of the samurai,--there arose an\nintense curiosity regarding the appearance and character of those\ninsolent strangers who had been able to obtain what they wanted\nby mere display of superior force. This general curiosity was\npartly satisfied by an immense production and distribution of\ncheap colored prints, picturing the manner and customs of the\nbarbarians, and the extraordinary streets of their settlements.\nCaricatures only those flaring wood--prints could have seemed to\nforeign eyes. But caricature was not the conscious object of the\nartist. He tried to portray foreigners as he really saw them; and\nhe saw them as green-eyed monsters, with red hair like Shojo(1),\nand with noses like Tengu(2), wearing clothes of absurd forms and\ncolors; and dwelling in structures like storehouses or prisons.\nSold by hundreds of thousands throughout the interior, these\nprints must have created many uncanny ideas. Yet as attempts to\ndepict the unfamiliar they were only innocent. One should be able\nto study those old drawings in order to comprehend just how we\nappeared to the Japanese of that era; how ugly, how grotesque,\nhow ridiculous.\n\n\nThe young samurai of the town soon had the experience of seeing a\nreal Western foreigner, a teacher hired for them by the prince.\nHe was an Englishman. He came under the protection of an armed\nescort; and orders were given to treat him as a person of\ndistinction. He did not seem quite so ugly as the foreigners in\nthe Japanese prints: his hair was red, indeed, and his eyes of a\nstrange color; but his face was not disagreeable. He at once\nbecame, and long remained, the subject of tireless observation.\nHow closely his every act was watched could never be guessed by\nany one ignorant of the queer superstitions of the pre-Meiji era\nconcerning ourselves. Although recognized as intelligent and\nformidable creatures, Occidentals were not generally regarded as\nquite human; they were thought of as more closely allied to\nanimals than to mankind. They had hairy bodies of queer shape;\ntheir teeth were different from those of men; their internal\norgans were also peculiar; and their moral ideas those of\ngoblins. The timidity which foreigners then inspired, not,\nindeed, to the samurai, but to the common people, was not a\nphysical, but a superstitious fear. Even the Japanese peasant has\nnever been a coward. But to know his feelings in that time toward\nforeigners, one must also know something of the ancient beliefs,\ncommon to both Japan and China, about animals gifted with\nsupernatural powers, and capable of assuming human form; about\nthe existence of races half-human and half-superhuman; and about\nthe mythical beings of the old picture-books,--goblins\nlong-legged and long-armed and bearded (ashinaga and tenaga),\nwhether depicted by the illustrators of weird stories or\ncomically treated by the brush of Hokusai. Really the aspect of\nthe new strangers seemed to afford confirmation of the fables\nrelated by a certain Chinese Herodotus; and the clothing they\nwore might seem to have been devised for the purpose of hiding\nwhat would prove them not human. So the new English teacher,\nblissfully ignorant of the fact, was studied surreptitiously,\njust as one might study a curious animal! Nevertheless, from\nhis students he experienced only courtesy: they treated him by\nthat Chinese code which ordains that \"even the shadow of a\nteacher must not be trodden on.\" In any event it would have\nmattered little to samurai students whether their teacher were\nperfectly human or not, so long as he could teach. The hero\nYoshitsune had been taught the art of the sword by a Tengu.\nBeings not human had proved themselves scholars and poets(3). But\nbehind the never-lifted mask of delicate courtesy, the stranger's\nhabits were minutely noted; and the ultimate judgment, based upon\nthe comparison of such observation, was not altogether\nflattering. The teacher himself could never have imagined the\ncomments made upon him by his two-sworded pupils; nor would it\nhave increased his peace of mind, while overlooking compositions\nin the class-room, to have understood their conversation:--\n\n\"See the color of his flesh, how soft it is! To take off his head\nwith a single blow would be very easy.\"\n\nOnce he was induced to try their mode of wrestling, just for fun,\nhe supposed. But they really wanted to take his physical measure.\nHe was not very highly estimated as an athlete.\n\n\"Strong arms he certainly has,\" one said. \"But he does not know\nhow to use his body while using his arms; and his loins are very\nweak. To break his back would not be difficult.\"\n\n\"I think,\" said another, \"that it would be easy to fight with\nforeigners.\"\n\n\"With swords it would be very easy,\" responded a third; \"but they\nare more skilful than we in the use of guns and cannon.\"\n\n\"We can learn all that,\" said the first speaker. \"When we have\nlearned Western military matters, we need not care for Western\nsoldiers.\"\n\n\"Foreigners,\" observed another, \"are not hardy like we are. They\nsoon tire, and they fear cold. All winter our teacher must have a\ngreat fire in his room. To stay there five minutes gives me the\nheadache.\"\n\n\nBut for all that, the lads were kind to their teacher, and made\nhim love them.\n\n(1) Apish mythological beings with red hair, delighting in\ndrunkenness.\n\n(2) Mythological beings of several kinds, supposed to live in the\nmountains. Some have long noses.\n\n(3) There is a legend that when Toryoko, a great poet, who was\nthe teacher of Sugiwara-no-Michizane (now deified as Tenjin), was\nonce passing the Gate called Ra-jo-mon, of the Emperor's palace\nat Kyoto, he recited aloud this single verse which he had just\ncomposed:--\n\n\"Clear is the weather and fair;--and the wind waves the hair of\nyoung willows.\"\nImmediately a deep mocking voice from the gateway continued the\npoem, thus:--\n\n\"Melted and vanished the ice; the waves comb the locks of old\nmosses.\"\n\nToryoko looked, but there was no one to be seen. Reaching home,\nhe told his pupil about the matter, and repeated the two\ncompositions. Sugiwara-no-Michizane praised the second one,\nsaying:--\n\n\"Truly the words of the first are the words of a poet;\nbut the words of the second are the words of a Demon!\"\n\n\n\nIV\n\nChanges came as great earthquakes come, without warning: the\ntransformation of daimyates into prefectures, the suppression of\nthe military class, the reconstruction of the whole social\nsystem. These events filled the youth with sadness, although he\nfelt no difficulty in transferring his allegiance from prince to\nemperor, and although the wealth of his family remained\nunimpaired by the shock. All this reconstruction told him of the\ngreatness of the national danger, and announced the certain\ndisappearance of the old high ideals, and of nearly all things\nloved. But he knew regret was vain. By self-transformation alone\ncould the nation hope to save its independence; and the obvious\nduty of the patriot was to recognize necessity, and fitly prepare\nhimself to play the man in the drama of the future.\n\nIn the samurai school he had learned much English, and he knew\nhimself able to converse with Englishmen. He cut his long hair,\nput away his swords, and went to Yokohama that he might continue\nhis study of the language under more favorable conditions. At\nYokohama everything at first seemed to him both unfamiliar and\nrepellent. Even the Japanese of the port had been changed by\nforeign contact: they were rude and rough; they acted and spoke\nas common people would not have dared to do in his native town.\nThe foreigners themselves impressed him still more disagreeably:\nit was the period when new settlers could assume the tone of\nconquerors to the conquered, and when the life of the \"open\nports\" was much less decorous than now. The new buildings of\nbrick or stuccoed timber revived for him unpleasant memories of\nthe Japanese colored pictures of foreign manners and customs; and\nhe could not quickly banish the fancies of his boyhood concerning\nOccidentals. Reason, based on larger knowledge and experience,\nfully assured him what they really were; but to his emotional\nlife the intimate sense of their kindred humanity still failed to\ncome. Race-feeling is older than intellectual development; and\nthe superstitions attaching to race-feeling are not easy to get\nrid of. His soldier-spirit, too, was stirred at times by ugly\nthings heard or seen,--incidents that filled him with the hot\nimpulse of his fathers to avenge a cowardice or to redress a\nwrong. But he learned to conquer his repulsions as obstacles to\nknowledge: it was the patriot's duty to study calmly the nature\nof his country's foes. He trained himself at last to observe the\nnew life about him without prejudice,--its merits not less than\nits defects; its strength not less than its weakness. He found\nkindness; he found devotion to ideals,--ideals not his own, but\nwhich he knew how to respect because they exacted, like the\nreligion of his ancestors, abnegation of many things.\n\nThrough such appreciation he learned to like and to trust an aged\nmissionary entirely absorbed in the work of educating and\nproselytizing. The old man was especially anxious to convert this\nyoung samurai, in whom aptitudes of no common order were\ndiscernible; and he spared no pains to win the boy's confidence.\nHe aided him in many ways, taught him something of French and\nGerman, of Greek and Latin, and placed entirely at his disposal a\nprivate library of considerable extent. The use of a foreign\nlibrary, including works of history, philosophy, travel, and\nfiction, was not a privilege then easy for Japanese students to\nobtain. It was gratefully appreciated; and the owner of the\nlibrary found no difficulty at a later day in persuading his\nfavored and favorite pupil to read a part of the New Testament.\nThe youth expressed surprise at finding among the doctrines of\nthe \"Evil Sect\" ethical precepts like those of Confucius. To the\nold missionary he said: \"This teaching is not new to us; but it\nis certainly very good. I shall study the book and think about\nit.\"\n\n\nV\n\nThe study and the thinking were to lead the young man much\nfurther than he had thought possible. After the recognition of\nChristianity as a great religion came recognitions of another\norder, and various imaginings about the civilization of the races\nprofessing Christianity. It then seemed to many reflective\nJapanese, possibly even to the keen minds directing the national\npolicy, that Japan was doomed to pass altogether under alien\nrule. There was hope, indeed; and while even the ghost of hope\nremained, the duty for all was plain. But the power that could be\nused against the Empire was irresistible. And studying the\nenormity of that power, the young Oriental could not but ask\nhimself, with a wonder approaching awe, whence and how it had\nbeen gained. Could it, as his aged teacher averred, have some\noccult relation to a higher religion? Certainly the ancient\nChinese philosophy, which declared the prosperity of peoples\nproportionate to their observance of celestial law and their\nobedience to the teaching of sages, countenanced such a theory.\nAnd if the superior force of Western civilization really\nindicated the superior character of Western ethics, was it not\nthe plain duty of every patriot to follow that higher faith, and\nto strive for the conversion of the whole nation? A youth of that\nera, educated in Chinese wisdom, and necessarily ignorant of the\nhistory of social evolution in the West, could never have\nimagined that the very highest forms of material progress were\ndeveloped chiefly through a merciless competition out of all\nharmony with Christian idealism, and at variance with every great\nsystem of ethics. Even to-day in the West unthinking millions\nimagine some divine connection between military power and\nChristian belief, and utterances are made in our pulpits implying\ndivine justification for political robberies, and heavenly\ninspiration for the invention of high explosives. There still\nsurvives among us the superstition that races professing\nChristianity are divinely destined to rob or exterminate races\nholding other beliefs. Some men occasionally express their\nconviction that we still worship Thor and Odin,--the only\ndifference being that Odin has become a mathematician, and that\nthe Hammer Mjolnir is now worked by steam. But such persons are\ndeclared by the missionaries to be atheists and men of shameless\nlives.\n\nBe this as it may, a time came when the young samurai resolved to\nproclaim himself a Christian, despite the opposition of his\nkindred. It was a bold step; but his early training had given him\nfirmness; and he was not to be moved from his decision even by\nthe sorrow of his parents. His rejection of the ancestral faith\nwould signify more than temporary pain for him: it would mean\ndisinheritance, the contempt of old comrades, loss of rank, and\nall the consequences of bitter poverty. But his samurai training\nhad taught him to despise self. He saw what he believed to be his\nduty as a patriot and as a truthseeker, and he followed it\nwithout fear or regret.\n\n\nVI\n\nThose who hope to substitute their own Western creed in the room\nof one which they wreck by the aid of knowledge borrowed from\nmodern science, do not imagine that the arguments used against\nthe ancient faith can be used with equal force against the new.\nUnable himself to reach the higher levels of modern thought, the\naverage missionary cannot foresee the result of his small\nteaching of science upon an Oriental mind naturally more powerful\nthan his own. He is therefore astonished and shocked to discover\nthat the more intelligent his pupil, the briefer the term of that\npupil's Christianity. To destroy personal faith in a fine mind\npreviously satisfied with Buddhist cosmogony, because innocent of\nscience, is not extremely difficult. But to substitute, in the\nsame mind, Western religious emotions for Oriental, Presbyterian\nor Baptist dogmatisms for Chinese and Buddhist ethics, is not\npossible. The psychological difficulties in the way are never\nrecognized by our modern evangelists. In former ages, when the\nfaith of the Jesuits and the friars was not less superstitious\nthan the faith they strove to supplant, the same deep-lying\nobstacles existed; and the Spanish priest, even while\naccomplishing marvels by his immense sincerity and fiery zeal,\nmust have felt that to fully realize his dream he would need the\nsword of the Spanish soldier. To-day the conditions are far less\nfavorable for any work of conversion than they ever were in the\nsixteenth century. Education has been secularized and remodeled\nupon a scientific basis; our religions are being changed into\nmere social recognitions of ethical necessities; the functions of\nour clergy are being gradually transformed into those of a moral\npolice; and the multitude of our church-spires proves no increase\nof our faith, but only the larger growth of our respect for\nconventions. Never can the conventions of the Occident become\nthose of the Far East; and never will foreign missionaries be\nsuffered in Japan to take the role of a police of morals. Already\nthe most liberal of our churches, those of broadest culture,\nbegin to recognize the vanity of missions. But it is not\nnecessary to drop old dogmatisms in order to perceive the truth:\nthorough education should be enough to reveal it; and the most\neducated of nations, Germany, sends no missionaries to work in\nthe interior of Japan. A result of missionary efforts, much more\nsignificant than the indispensable yearly report of new\nconversions, has been the reorganization of the native religions,\nand a recent government mandate insisting upon the higher\neducation of the native priest-hoods. Indeed, long before this\nmandate the wealthier sects had established Buddhist schools on\nthe Western plan; and the Shinshu could already boast of its\nscholars, educated in Paris or at Oxford,--men whose names are\nknown to Sanscritists the world over. Certainly Japan will need\nhigher forms of faith than her mediaeval ones; but these must be\nthemselves evolved from the ancient forms,--from within, never\nfrom without. A Buddhism strongly fortified by Western science\nwill meet the future needs of the race.\n\n\nThe young convert at Yokohama proved a noteworthy example of\nmissionary failures. Within a few years after having sacrificed a\nfortune in order to become a Christian,--or rather the member of\na foreign religious sect,--he publicly renounced the creed\naccepted at such a cost. He had studied and comprehended the\ngreat minds of the age better than his religious teachers, who\ncould no longer respond to the questions he propounded, except by\nthe assurance that books of which they had recommended him to\nstudy parts were dangerous to faith as wholes. But as they could\nnot prove the fallacies alleged to exist in such books, their\nwarnings availed nothing. He had been converted to dogmatism by\nimperfect reasoning; by larger and deeper reasoning he found his\nway beyond dogmatism. He passed from the church after an open\ndeclaration that its tenets were not based upon true reason or\nfact; and that he felt himself obliged to accept the opinions of\nmen whom his teachers had called the enemies of Christianity.\nThere was great scandal at his \"relapse.\"\n\nThe real \"relapse\" was yet far away. Unlike many with a similar\nexperience, he knew that the religious question had only receded\nfor him, and that all he had learned was scarcely more than the\nalphabet of what remained to learn. He had not lost belief in the\nrelative value of creeds,--in the worth of religion as a\nconserving and restraining force. A distorted perception of one\ntruth--the truth of a relation subsisting between civilizations\nand their religions--had first deluded him into the path that led\nto his conversion. Chinese philosophy had taught him that which\nmodern sociology recognizes in the law that societies without\npriesthoods have never developed; and Buddhism had taught him\nthat even delusions--the parables, forms, and symbols presented\nas actualities to humble minds--have their value and their\njustification in aiding the development of human goodness. From\nsuch a point of view, Christianity had lost none of its interest\nfor him; and though doubting what his teacher had told him about\nthe superior morality of Christian nations, not at all\nillustrated in the life of the open ports, he desired to see for\nhimself the influence of religion upon morals in the Occident; to\nvisit European countries and to study the causes of their\ndevelopment and the reason of their power.\n\nThis he set out to do sooner than he had purposed. That\nintellectual quickening which had made him a doubter in religious\nmatters had made him also a freethinker in politics. He brought\ndown upon himself the wrath of the government by public\nexpressions of opinion antagonistic to the policy of the hour;\nand, like others equally imprudent under the stimulus of new\nideas, he was obliged to leave the country. Thus began for him a\nseries of wanderings destined to carry him round the world. Korea\nfirst afforded him a refuge; then China, where he lived as a\nteacher; and at last he found himself on board a steamer bound\nfor Marseilles. He had little money; but he did not ask himself\nhow he was going to live in Europe. Young, tall, athletic, frugal\nand inured to hardship, he felt sure of himself; and he had\nletters to men abroad who could smooth his way.\n\nBut long years were to pass before he could see his native land\nagain.\n\n\n\nVII\n\nDuring those years he saw Western civilization as few Japanese\never saw it; for he wandered through Europe and America, living\nin many cities, and toiling in many capacities,--sometimes with\nhis brain, oftener with his hands,--and so was able to study the\nhighest and the lowest, the best and the worst of the life about\nhim. But he saw with the eyes of the Far East; and the ways of\nhis judgments were not as our ways. For even as the Occident\nregards the Far East, so does the Far East regard the Occident,\n--only with this difference: that what each most esteems in\nitself is least likely to be esteemed by the other. And both are\npartly right and partly wrong; and there never has been, and\nnever can be, perfect mutual comprehension.\n\nLarger than all anticipation the West appeared to him,--a world\nof giants; and that which depresses even the boldest Occidental\nwho finds himself, without means or friends, alone in a great\ncity, must often have depressed the Oriental exile: that vague\nuneasiness aroused by the sense of being invisible to hurrying\nmillions; by the ceaseless roar of traffic drowning voices; by\nmonstrosities of architecture without a soul; by the dynamic\ndisplay of wealth forcing mind and hand, as mere cheap machinery,\nto the uttermost limits of the possible. Perhaps he saw such\ncities as Dore saw London: sullen majesty of arched glooms and\ngranite deeps opening into granite deeps beyond range of vision,\nand mountains of masonry with seas of labor in turmoil at their\nbase, and monumental spaces displaying the grimness of ordered\npower slow-gathering through centuries. Of beauty there was\nnothing to make appeal to him between those endless cliffs of\nstone which walled out the sunrise and the sunset, the sky and\nthe wind. All that which draws us to great cities repelled or\noppressed him; even luminous Paris soon filled him with\nweariness. It was the first foreign city in which he made a long\nsojourn. French art, as reflecting the aesthetic thought of the\nmost gifted of European races, surprised him much, but charmed\nhim not at all. What surprised him especially were its studies of\nthe nude, in which he recognized only an open confession of the\none human weakness which, next to disloyalty or cowardice, his\nstoical training had taught him to most despise. Modern French\nliterature gave him other reasons for astonishment. He could\nlittle comprehend the amazing art of the story-teller; the worth\nof the workmanship in itself was not visible to him; and if he\ncould have been made to understand it as a European understands,\nhe would have remained none the less convinced that such\napplication of genius to production signified social depravity.\nAnd gradually, in the luxurious life of the capital itself, he\nfound proof for the belief suggested to him by the art and the\nliterature of the period. He visited the pleasure-resorts, the\ntheatres, the opera; he saw with the eyes of an ascetic and a\nsoldier, and wondered why the Western conception of the worth of\nlife differed so little from the Far-Eastern conception of folly\nand of effeminacy. He saw fashionable balls, and exposures de\nrigueur intolerable to the Far-Eastern sense of modesty,\n--artistically calculated to suggest what would cause a Japanese\nwoman to die of shame; and he wondered at criticisms he had heard\nabout the natural, modest, healthy half-nudity of Japanese\ntoiling under a summer sun. He saw cathedrals and churches in\nvast number, and near to them the palaces of vice, and\nestablishments enriched by the stealthy sale of artistic\nobscenities. He listened to sermons by great preachers; and he\nheard blasphemies against all faith and love by priest--haters.\nHe saw the circles of wealth, and the circles of poverty, and the\nabysses underlying both. The \"restraining influence\" of religion\nhe did not see. That world had no faith. It was a world of\nmockery and masquerade and pleasure-seeking selfishness, ruled\nnot by religion, but by police; a world into which it were not\ngood that a man should be born.\n\nEngland, more sombre, more imposing, more formidable furnished\nhim with other problems to consider. He studied her wealth,\nforever growing, and the nightmares of squalor forever\nmultiplying in the shadow of it. He saw the vast ports gorged\nwith the riches of a hundred lands, mostly plunder; and knew the\nEnglish still like their forefathers, a race of prey; and thought\nof the fate of her millions if she should find herself for even a\nsingle month unable to compel other races to feed them. He saw\nthe harlotry and drunkenness that make night hideous in the\nworld's greatest city; and he marveled at the conventional\nhypocrisy that pretends not to see, and at the religion that\nutters thanks for existing conditions, and at the ignorance that\nsends missionaries where they are not needed, and at the enormous\ncharities that help disease and vice to propagate their kind. He\nsaw also the declaration of a great Englishman(1) who had\ntraveled in many countries that one tenth of the population of\nEngland were professional criminals or paupers. And this in spite\nof the myriads of churches, and the incomparable multiplication\nof laws! Certainly English civilization showed less than any\nother the pretended power of that religion which he had been\ntaught to believe the inspiration of progress. English streets\ntold him another story: there were no such sights to be seen in\nthe streets of Buddhist cities. No: this civilization signified a\nperpetual wicked struggle between the simple and the cunning, the\nfeeble and the strong; force and craft combining to thrust\nweakness into a yawning and visible hell. Never in Japan had\nthere been even the sick dream of such conditions. Yet the merely\nmaterial and intellectual results of those conditions he could\nnot but confess to be astonishing; and though he saw evil beyond\nall he could have imagined possible, he also saw much good, among\nboth poor and rich. The stupendous riddle of it all, the\ncountless contradictions, were above his powers of\ninterpretation.\n\nHe liked the English people better than the people of other\ncountries he had visited; and the manners of the English gentry\nimpressed him as not unlike those of the Japanese samurai. Behind\ntheir formal coldness he could discern immense capacities of\nfriendship and enduring kindness,--kindness he experienced more\nthan once; the depth of emotional power rarely wasted; and the\nhigh courage that had won the dominion of half a world. But ere\nhe left England for America, to study a still vaster field of\nhuman achievement, mere differences of nationality had ceased to\ninterest him: they were blurred out of visibility in his growing\nperception of Occidental civilization as one amazing whole,\neverywhere displaying--whether through imperial, monarchical, or\ndemocratic forms--the working of the like merciless necessities\nwith the like astounding results, and everywhere based on ideas\ntotally the reverse of Far-Eastern ideas. Such civilization he\ncould estimate only as one having no single emotion in harmony\nwith it,--as one finding nothing to love while dwelling in its\nmidst, and nothing to regret in the hour of leaving it forever.\nIt was as far away from his soul as the life of another planet\nunder another sun. But he could understand its cost in terms of\nhuman pain, feel the menace of its weight, and divine the\nprodigious range of its intellectual power. And he hated\nit,--hated its tremendous and perfectly calculated mechanism;\nhated its utilitarian stability; hated its conventions, its\ngreed, its blind cruelty, its huge hypocrisy, the foulness of its\nwant and the insolence of its wealth. Morally, it was monstrous;\nconventionally, it was brutal. Depths of degradation unfathomable\nit had shown him, but no ideals equal to the ideals of his youth.\nIt was all one great wolfish struggle;--and that so much real\ngoodness as he had found in it could exist, seemed to him\nscarcely less than miraculous. The real sublimities of the\nOccident were intellectual only; far steep cold heights of pure\nknowledge, below whose perpetual snow-line emotional ideals die.\nSurely the old Japanese civilization of benevolence and duty was\nincomparably better in its comprehension of happiness, in its\nmoral ambitions, its larger faith, its joyous courage, its\nsimplicity and unselfishness, its sobriety and contentment.\nWestern superiority was not ethical. It lay in forces of\nintellect developed through suffering incalculable, and used for\nthe destruction of the weak by the strong.\n\nAnd, nevertheless, that Western science whose logic he knew to be\nirrefutable assured him of the larger and larger expansion of the\npower of that civilization, as of an irresistible, inevitable,\nmeasureless inundation of world-pain. Japan would have to learn\nthe new forms of action, to master the new forms of thought, or\nto perish utterly. There was no other alternative. And then the\ndoubt of all doubts came to him, the question which all the sages\nhave had to face: _Is the universe moral?_ To that question\nBuddhism had given the deepest answer.\n\nBut whether moral or immoral the cosmic process, as measured by\ninfinitesimal human emotion, one conviction remained with him\nthat no logic could impair: the certainty that man should pursue\nthe highest moral ideal with all his power to the unknown end,\neven though the suns in their courses should fight against him.\nThe necessities of Japan would oblige her to master foreign\nscience, to adopt much from the material civilization of her\nenemies; but the same necessities could not compel her to cast\nbodily away her ideas of right and wrong, of duty and of honor.\nSlowly a purpose shaped itself in his mind,--a purpose which was\nto make him in after years a leader and a teacher: to strive with\nall his strength for the conservation of all that was best in\nthe ancient life, and to fearlessly oppose further introduction\nof anything not essential to national self-preservation, or\nhelpful to national, self-development. Fail he well might, and\nwithout shame; but he could hope at least to save something of\nworth from the drift of wreckage. The wastefulness of Western\nlife had impressed him more than its greed of pleasure and its\ncapacity for pain: in the clean poverty of his own land he saw\nstrength; in her unselfish thrift, the sole chance of competing\nwith the Occident. Foreign civilization had taught him to\nunderstand, as he could never otherwise have understood, the\nworth and the beauty of his own; and he longed for the hour of\npermission to return to the country of his birth.\n\n(1)\"Although we have progressed vastly beyond the savage state in\nintellectual achievements, we have not advanced equally in\nmorals.... It is not too much to say that the mass of our\npopulations have not at all advanced beyond the savage code of\nmorals, and have in many cases sunk below it. A deficient\nmorality is the great blot of modern civilization.... Our whole\nsocial and moral civilization remains in a state of barbarism....\nWe are the richest country in the world; and yet nearly one\ntwentieth of our population are parish paupers, and one thirtieth\nknown criminals. Add to these the criminals who escape detection,\nand the poor who live mainly or partly on private charity (which,\naccording to Dr. Hawkesley, expends seven millions sterling\nannually in London alone), and we may be sure that more than ONE\nTENTH of our population are actually Paupers and Criminals.\"\n--ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE\n\n\nVIII\n\nIt was through the transparent darkness of a cloudless April\nmorning, a little before sunrise, that he saw again the mountains\nof his native land,--far lofty sharpening sierras, towering\nviolet-black out of the circle of an inky sea. Behind the steamer\nwhich was bearing him back from exile the horizon was slowly\nfilling with rosy flame. There were some foreigners already on\ndeck, eager to obtain the first and fairest view of Fuji from the\nPacific;--for the first sight of Fuji at dawn is not to be\nforgotten in this life or the next. They watched the long\nprocession of the ranges, and looked over the jagged looming into\nthe deep night, where stars were faintly burning still,--and they\ncould not see Fuji. \"Ah!\" laughed an officer they questioned,\n\"you are looking too low! higher up--much higher!\" Then they\nlooked up, up, up into the heart of the sky, and saw the mighty\nsummit pinkening like a wondrous phantom lotos-bud in the flush\nof the coming day: a spectacle that smote them dumb. Swiftly the\neternal snow yellowed into gold, then whitened as the sun reached\nout beams to it over the curve of the world, over the shadowy\nranges, over the very stars, it seemed; for the giant base\nremained viewless. And the night fled utterly; and soft blue\nlight bathed all the hollow heaven; and colors awoke from sleep;\n--and before the gazers there opened the luminous bay of\nYokohama, with the sacred peak, its base ever invisible, hanging\nabove all like a snowy ghost in the arch of the infinite day.\n\nStill in the wanderer's ears the words rang, \"_Ah! you are\nlooking too low!--higher up--much higher!_\"--making vague rhythm\nwith an immense, irresistible emotion swelling at his heart. Then\neverything dimmed: he saw neither Fuji above, nor the nearing\nhills below, changing their vapory blue to green, nor the\ncrowding of the ships in the bay; nor anything of the modern\nJapan; he saw the Old. The land-wind, delicately scented with\nodors of spring, rushed to him, touched his blood, and startled\nfrom long-closed cells of memory the shades of all that he had\nonce abandoned and striven to forget. He saw the faces of his\ndead: he knew their voices over the graves of the years. Again he\nwas a very little boy in his father's yashiki, wandering from\nluminous room to room, playing in sunned spaces where\nleaf-shadows trembled on the matting, or gazing into the soft\ngreen dreamy peace of the landscape garden. Once more he felt the\nlight touch of his mother's hand guiding his little steps to the\nplace of morning worship, before the household shrine, before the\ntablets of the ancestors; and the lips of the man murmured again,\nwith sudden new-found meaning, the simple prayer of the child.\n\n\n\nXI\n\nIN THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS\n\n\"Do you know anything about josses?\"\n\n\"Josses?\"\n\n\"Yes; idols, Japanese idols,--josses.\"\n\n\"Something,\" I answered, \"but not very much.\"\n\n\"Well, come, and look at my collection, won't you? I've been\ncollecting josses for twenty years, and I've got some worth\nseeing. They're not for sale, though,--except to the British\nMuseum.\"\n\nI followed the curio dealer through the bric-a-brac of his shop,\nand across a paved yard into an unusually large go-down(1). Like\nall go-downs it was dark: I could barely discern a stairway\nsloping up through gloom. He paused at the foot.\n\n\"You'll be able to see better in a moment,\" he said. \"I had this\nplace built expressly for them; but now it is scarcely big\nenough. They're all in the second story. Go right up; only be\ncareful,--the steps are bad.\"\n\nI climbed, and reached a sort of gloaming, under a very high\nroof, and found myself face to face with the gods.\n\nIn the dusk of the great go-down the spectacle was more than\nweird: it was apparitional. Arhats and Buddhas and Bodhisattvas,\nand the shapes of a mythology older than they, filled all the\nshadowy space; not ranked by hierarchies, as in a temple, but\nmingled without order, as in a silent panic. Out of the\nwilderness of multiple heads and broken aureoles and hands\nuplifted in menace or in prayer,--a shimmering confusion of dusty\ngold half lighted by cobwebbed air-holes in the heavy walls,--I\ncould at first discern little; then, as the dimness cleared, I\nbegan to distinguish personalities. I saw Kwannon, of many forms;\nJizo, of many names; Shaka, Yakushi, Amida, the Buddhas and their\ndisciples. They were very old; and their art was not all of\nJapan, nor of any one place or time: there were shapes from\nKorea, China, India,--treasures brought over sea in the rich days\nof the early Buddhist missions. Some were seated upon\nlotos-flowers, the lotos-flowers of the Apparitional Birth. Some\nrode leopards, tigers, lions, or monsters mystical,--typifying\nlightning, typifying death. One, triple-headed and many-handed,\nsinister and splendid, seemed moving through the gloom on a\nthrone of gold, uplifted by a phalanx of elephants. Fudo I saw,\nshrouded and shrined in fire, and Maya-Fujin, riding her\ncelestial peacock; and strangely mingling with these Buddhist\nvisions, as in the anachronism of a Limbo, armored effigies of\nDaimyo and images of the Chinese sages. There were huge forms of\nwrath, grasping thunderbolts, and rising to the roof: the\nDeva-kings, like impersonations of hurricane power; the Ni-O,\nguardians of long-vanished temple gates. Also there were forms\nvoluptuously feminine: the light grace of the limbs folded within\ntheir lotos-cups, the suppleness of the fingers numbering the\nnumbers of the Good Law, were ideals possibly inspired in some\nforgotten tune by the charm of an Indian dancing-girl. Shelved\nagainst the naked brickwork above, I could perceive multitudes of\nlesser shapes: demon figures with eyes that burned through the\ndark like the eyes of a black cat, and figures half man, half\nbird, winged and beaked like eagles,--the _Tengu_ of Japanese\nfancy.\n\n\"Well?\" queried the curio dealer, with a chuckle of satisfaction\nat my evident surprise.\n\n\"It is a very great collection,\" I responded.\n\nHe clapped his hand on my shoulder, and exclaimed triumphantly in\nmy ear, \"Cost me fifty thousand dollars.\"\n\nBut the images themselves told me how much more was their cost to\nforgotten piety, notwithstanding the cheapness of artistic labor\nin the East. Also they told me of the dead millions whose pilgrim\nfeet had worn hollow the steps leading to their shrines, of the\nburied mothers who used to suspend little baby-dresses before\ntheir altars, of the generations of children taught to murmur\nprayers to them, of the countless sorrows and hopes confided to\nthem. Ghosts of the worship of centuries had followed them into\nexile; a thin, sweet odor of incense haunted the dusty place.\n\n\"What would you call that?\" asked the voice of the curio dealer.\n\"I've been told it's the best of the lot.\"\n\nHe pointed to a figure resting upon a triple golden\nlotos,--Avalokitesvara: she \"_who looketh down above the sound of\nprayer.\"... Storms and hate give way to her name. Fire\nis quenched by her name. Demons vanish at the sound of her name.\nBy her name one may stand firm in the sky, like a sun...._\nThe delicacy of the limbs, the tenderness of the smile, were\ndreams of the Indian paradise.\n\n\"It is a Kwannon,\" I made reply, \"and very beautiful.\"\n\n\"Somebody will have to pay me a very beautiful price for it,\" he\nsaid, with a shrewd wink. \"It cost me enough! As a rule, though,\nI get these things pretty cheap. There are few people who care to\nbuy them, and they have to be sold privately, you know: that\ngives me an advantage. See that Jizo in the corner,--the big\nblack fellow? What is it?\"\n\n\"Emmei-Jizo,\" I answered,--\"Jizo, the giver of long life. It must\nbe very old.\"\n\n\"Well,\" he said, again taking me by the shoulder, \"the man from\nwhom I got that piece was put in prison for selling it to me.\"\n\nThen he burst into a hearty laugh,--whether at the recollection\nof his own cleverness in the transaction, or at the unfortunate\nsimplicity of the person who had sold the statue contrary to law,\nI could not decide.\n\n\"Afterwards,\" he resumed, \"they wanted to get it back again, and\noffered me more, than I had given for it. But I held on. I don't\nknow everything about josses, but I do know what they are worth.\nThere isn't another idol like that in the whole country. The\nBritish Museum will be glad to get it.\"\n\n\"When do you intend to offer the collection to the British\nMuseum?\" I presumed to ask.\n\n\"Well, I first want to get up a show,\" he replied. \"There's money\nto be made by a show of josses in London. London people never saw\nanything like this in their lives. Then the church folks help\nthat sort of a show, if you manage them properly: it advertises\nthe missions. 'Heathen idols from Japan!'... How do you like the\nbaby?\"\n\nI was looking at a small gold-colored image of a naked child,\nstanding, one tiny hand pointing upward, and the other downward,\n--representing the Buddha newly born. _Sparkling with light he\ncame from the womb, as when the Sun first rises in the east....\nUpright he took deliberately seven steps; and the prints of his\nfeet upon the ground remained burning as seven stars. And he\nspake with clearest utterance, saying, \"This birth is a Buddha\nbirth. Re-birth is not for me. Only this last time am I born for\nthe salvation of all on earth and in heaven._\"\n\n\"That is what they call a Tanjo-Shaka,\" I said. \"It looks like\nbronze.\"\n\n\"Bronze it is,\" he responded, tapping it with his knuckles to\nmake the metal ring. \"The bronze alone is worth more than the\nprice I paid.\"\n\nI looked at the four Devas whose heads almost touched the roof,\nand thought of the story of their apparition told in the\nMahavagga. _On a beautiful night the Four Great Kings entered the\nholy grove, filling all the place with light; and having\nrespectfully saluted the Blessed One, they stood in the four\ndirections, like four great firebrands_.\n\n\"How did you ever manage to get those big figures upstairs?\" I\nasked.\n\n\"Oh, hauled them up! We've got a hatchway. The real trouble was\ngetting them here by train. It was the first railroad trip they\never made.... But look at these here: they will make the\nsensation of the show!\"\n\nI looked, and saw two small wooden images, about three feet high.\n\n\"Why do you think they will make a sensation?\" I inquired\ninnocently.\n\n\"Don't you see what they are? They date from the time of the\npersecutions. _Japanese devils trampling on the Cross!_\"\n\nThey were small temple guardians only; but their feet rested upon\nX-shaped supports.\n\n\"Did any person tell you these were devils trampling on the\ncross?\" I made bold to ask.\n\n\"What else are they doing?\" he answered evasively. \"Look at the\ncrosses under their feet!\"\n\n\"But they are not devils,\" I insisted; \"and those cross-pieces\nwere put under their feet simply to give equilibrium.\"\n\nHe said nothing, but looked disappointed; and I felt a little\nsorry for him. _Devils trampling on the Cross_, as a display line\nin some London poster announcing the arrival of \"josses from\nJapan,\" might certainly have been relied on to catch the public\neye.\n\n\"This is more wonderful,\" I said, pointing to a beautiful group,\n--Maya with the infant Buddha issuing from her side, according to\ntradition. _Painlessly the Bodhisattva was born from her right\nside. It was the eighth day of the fourth moon_.\n\n\"That's bronze, too,\" he remarked, tapping it. \"Bronze josses are\ngetting rare. We used to buy them up and sell them for old metal.\nWish I'd kept some of them! You ought to have seen the bronzes,\nin those days, coming in from the temples,--bells and vases and\njosses! That was the time we tried to buy the Daibutsu at\nKamakura.\"\n\n\"For old bronze?\" I queried.\n\n\"Yes. We calculated the weight of the metal, and formed a\nsyndicate. Our first offer was thirty thousand. We could have\nmade a big profit, for there's a good deal of gold and silver in\nthat work. The priests wanted to sell, but the people wouldn't\nlet them.\"\n\n\"It's one of the world's wonders,\" I said. \"Would you really have\nbroken it up?\"\n\n\"Certainly. Why not? What else could you do with it?... That one\nthere looks just like a Virgin Mary, doesn't it?\"\n\nHe pointed to the gilded image of a female clasping a child to\nher breast.\n\n\"Yes,\" I replied; \"but it is Kishibojin, the goddess who loves\nlittle children.\"\n\n\"People talk about idolatry,\" he went on musingly. \"I've seen\nthings like many of these in Roman Catholic chapels. Seems to me\nreligion is pretty much the same the world over.\"\n\n\"I think you are right,\" I said.\n\n\"Why, the story of Buddha is like the story of Christ, isn't it?\"\n\n\"To some degree,\" I assented.\n\n\"Only, he wasn't crucified.\"\n\nI did not answer; thinking of the text, _In all the world there\nis not one spot even so large as a mustard-seed where he has not\nsurrendered his body for the sake of creatures_. Then it suddenly\nseemed to me that this was absolutely true. For the Buddha of the\ndeeper Buddhism is not Gautama, nor yet any one Tathagata, but\nsimply the divine in man. Chrysalides of the infinite we all are:\neach contains a ghostly Buddha, and the millions are but one. All\nhumanity is potentially the Buddha-to-come, dreaming through the\nages in Illusion; and the teacher's smile will make beautiful the\nworld again when selfishness shall die. Every noble sacrifice\nbrings nearer the hour of his awakening; and who may justly\ndoubt--remembering the myriads of the centuries of man--that even\nnow there does not remain one place on earth where life has not\nbeen freely given for love or duty?\n\n\nI felt the curio dealer's hand on my shoulder again.\n\n\"At all events,\" he cried in a cheery tone, \"they'll be\nappreciated in the British Museum--eh?\"\n\n\"I hope so. They ought to be.\"\n\nThen I fancied them immured somewhere in that vast necropolis of\ndead gods, under the gloom of a pea-soup-fog, chambered with\nforgotten divinities of Egypt or Babylon, and trembling faintly\nat the roar of London,--all to what end? Perhaps to aid another\nAlma Tadema to paint the beauty of another vanished civilization;\nperhaps to assist the illustration of an English Dictionary of\nBuddhism; perhaps to inspire some future laureate with a metaphor\nstartling as Tennyson's figure of the \"oiled and curled Assyrian\nbull.\" Assuredly they would not be preserved in vain. The\nthinkers of a less conventional and selfish era would teach new\nreverence for them. Each eidolon shaped by human faith remains\nthe shell of a truth eternally divine, and even the shell itself\nmay hold a ghostly power. The soft serenity, the passionless\ntenderness, of these Buddha faces might yet give peace of soul to\na West weary of creeds transformed into conventions, eager for\nthe coming of another teacher to proclaim, \"_I have the same\nfeeling for the high as for the low, for the moral as for the\nimmoral, for the depraved as for the virtuous, for those holding\nsectarian views and false opinions as for those whose beliefs are\ngood and true_.\"\n\n(1) A name given to fireproof storehouses in the open ports of\nthe Far East. The word is derived from the Malay gadong.\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE IDEA OF PRE-EXISTENCE\n\n\"If A Bikkhu should desire, O brethren, to call to mind his\nvarious temporary states in days gone by--such as one birth, two\nbirths, three, four, five, ten, twenty, thirty, fifty, one\nhundred, or one thousand, or one hundred thousand births,--in all\ntheir modes and all their details, let him be devoted to quietude\nof heart,--let him look through things, let him be much alone.\"\n--Akankheyya Sutta.\n\n\nI\n\nWere I to ask any reflecting Occidental, who had passed some\nyears in the real living atmosphere of Buddhism, what fundamental\nidea especially differentiates Oriental modes of thinking from\nour own, I am sure he would answer: \"The Idea of Pre-existence.\"\nIt is this idea, more than any other, which permeates the whole\nmental being of the Far East. It is universal as the wash of air:\nit colors every emotion; it influences, directly or indirectly,\nalmost every act. Its symbols are perpetually visible, even in\ndetails of artistic decoration; and hourly by day or night, some\nechoes of its language float uninvited to the ear. The utterances\nof the people,--their household sayings, their proverbs, their\npious or profane exclamations, their confessions of sorrow, hope,\njoy, or despair,--are all informed with it. It qualifies equally\nthe expression of hate or the speech of affection; and the term\n_ingwa_, or _innen_,--meaning karma as inevitable retribution,\n--comes naturally to every lip as an interpretation, as a\nconsolation, or as a reproach. The peasant toiling up some steep\nroad, and feeling the weight of his handcart straining every\nmuscle, murmurs patiently: \"Since this is ingwa, it must be\nsuffered.\" Servants disputing, ask each other, \"By reason of what\ningwa must I now dwell with such a one as you?\" The incapable or\nvicious man is reproached with his ingwa; and the misfortunes of\nthe wise or the virtuous are explained by the same Buddhist word.\nThe law-breaker confesses his crime, saying: \"That which I did I\nknew to be wicked when doing; but my ingwa was stronger than my\nheart.\" Separated lovers seek death under the belief that their\nunion in this life is banned by the results of their sins in a\nformer one; and, the victim of an injustice tries to allay his\nnatural anger by the self-assurance that he is expiating some\nforgotten fault which had to, be expiated in the eternal order of\nthings.... So likewise even the commonest references to a\nspiritual future imply the general creed of a spiritual past. The\nmother warns her little ones at play about the effect of\nwrong-doing upon their future births, as the children of other\nparents. The pilgrim or the street-beggar accepts your alms with\nthe prayer that your next birth may be fortunate. The aged\n_inkyo_, whose sight and hearing begin to fail, talks cheerily of\nthe impending change that is to provide him with a fresh young\nbody. And the expressions _Yakusoku_, signifying the Buddhist\nidea of necessity; _mae no yo_, the last life; _akirame_,\nresignation, recur as frequently in Japanese common parlance as\ndo the words \"right\" and \"wrong\" in English popular speech.\n\nAfter long dwelling in this psychological medium, you find that\nit has penetrated your own thought, and has effected therein\nvarious changes. All concepts of life implied by the idea of\npreexistence,--all those beliefs which, however sympathetically\nstudied, must at first have seemed more than strange to you,--\nfinally lose that curious or fantastic character with which\nnovelty once invested them, and present themselves under a\nperfectly normal aspect. They explain so many things so well as\neven to look rational; and quite rational some assuredly are when\nmeasured by the scientific thought of the nineteenth century. But\nto judge them fairly, it is first necessary to sweep the mind\nclear of all Western ideas of metempsychosis. For there is no\nresemblance between the old Occidental conceptions of soul--the\nPythagorean or the Platonic, for example--and the Buddhist\nconception; and it is precisely because of this unlikeness that\nthe Japanese beliefs prove themselves reasonable. The profound\ndifference between old-fashioned Western thought and Eastern\nthought in this regard is, that for the Buddhist the conventional\nsoul--the single, tenuous, tremulous, transparent inner man, or\nghost--does not exist. The Oriental Ego is not individual. Nor is\nit* even a definitely numbered multiple like the Gnostic soul. It\nis an aggregate or composite of inconceivable complexity,--the\nconcentrated sum of the creative thinking of previous lives\nbeyond all reckoning.\n\n\nII\n\nThe interpretative power of Buddhism, and the singular accord of\nits theories with the facts of modern science, appear especially\nin that domain of psychology whereof Herbert Spencer has been the\ngreatest of all explorers. No small part of our psychological\nlife is composed of feelings which Western theology never could\nexplain. Such are those which cause the still speechless infant\nto cry at the sight of certain faces, or to smile at the sight of\nothers. Such are those instantaneous likes or dislikes\nexperienced on meeting strangers, those repulsions or attractions\ncalled \"first impressions,\" which intelligent children are prone\nto announce with alarming frankness, despite all assurance that\n\"people must not be judged by appearances\": a doctrine no child\nin his heart believes. To call these feelings instinctive or\nintuitive, in the theological meaning of instinct or intuition,\nexplains nothing at all--merely cuts off inquiry into the mystery\nof life, just like the special creation hypothesis. The idea that\na personal impulse or emotion might be more than individual,\nexcept through demoniacal possession, still seems to\nold-fashioned orthodoxy a monstrous heresy. Yet it is now certain\nthat most of our deeper feelings are superindividual,--both those\nwhich we classify as passional, and those which we call sublime.\nThe individuality of the amatory passion is absolutely denied by\nscience; and what is true of love at first sight is also true of\nhate: both are superindividual. So likewise are those vague\nimpulses to wander which come and go with spring, and those vague\ndepressions experienced in autumn,--survivals, perhaps, from an\nepoch in which human migration followed the course of the\nseasons, or even from an era preceding the apparition of man.\nSuperindividual also those emotions felt by one who, after having\npassed the greater part of a life on plain or prairies, first\nlooks upon a range of snow-capped peaks; or the sensations of\nsome dweller in the interior of a continent when he first beholds\nthe ocean, and hears its eternal thunder. The delight, always\ntoned with awe, which the sight of a stupendous landscape evokes;\nOr that speechless admiration, mingled with melancholy\ninexpressible, which the splendor of a tropical sunset\ncreates,--never can be interpreted by individual experience.\nPsychological analysis has indeed shown these emotions to be\nprodigiously complex, and interwoven with personal experiences of\nmany kinds; but in either case the deeper wave of feeling is\nnever individual: it is a surging up from that ancestral sea of\nlife out of which we came. To the same psychological category\npossibly belongs likewise a peculiar feeling which troubled men's\nminds long before the time of Cicero, and troubles them even more\nbetimes in our own generation,--the feeling of having already\nseen a place really visited for the first time. Some strange air\nof familiarity about the streets of a foreign town, or the forms\nof a foreign landscape, comes to the mind with a sort of soft\nweird shock, and leaves one vainly ransacking memory for\ninterpretations. Occasionally, beyond question, similar\nsensations are actually produced by the revival or recombination\nof former relations in consciousness; but there would seem to be\nmany which remain wholly mysterious when we attempt to explain\nthem by individual experience.\n\nEven in the most common of our sensations there are enigmas never\nto be solved by those holding the absurd doctrine that all\nfeeling and cognition belong to individual experience, and that\nthe mind of the child newly-born is a _tabula rasa_. The pleasure\nexcited by the perfume of a flower, by certain shades of color,\nby certain tones of music; the involuntary loathing or fear\naroused by the first sight of dangerous or venomous life; even\nthe nameless terror of dreams,--are all inexplicable upon the\nold-fashioned soul-hypothesis. How deeply-reaching into the life\nof the race some of these sensations are, such as the pleasure in\nodors and in colors, Grant Allen has most effectively suggested\nin his \"Physiological Aesthetics,\" and in his charming treatise\non the Color-Sense. But long before these were written, his\nteacher, the greatest of all psychologists, had clearly proven\nthat the experience-hypothesis was utterly inadequate to account\nfor many classes of psychological phenomena. \"If possible,\"\nobserves Herbert Spencer, \"it is even more at fault in respect to\nthe emotions than to the cognitions. The doctrine that all the\ndesires, all the sentiments, are generated by the experiences of\nthe individual, is so glaringly at variance with facts that I\ncannot but wonder how any one should ever have ventured to\nentertain it.\" It was Mr. Spencer, also, who showed us that words\nlike \"instinct,\" \"intuition,\" have no true signification in the\nold sense; they must hereafter be used in a very different one.\nInstinct, in the language of modern psychology, means \"organized\nmemory,\" and memory itself is \"incipient instinct,\"--the sum of\nimpressions to be inherited by the next succeeding individual in\nthe chain of life. Thus science recognizes inherited memory: not\nin the ghostly signification of a remembering of the details of\nformer lives, but as a minute addition to psychological life\naccompanied by minute changes in the structure of the inherited\nnervous system. \"The human brain is an organized register of\ninfinitely numerous experiences received during the evolution of\nlife, or rather, during the evolution of that series of organisms\nthrough which the human organism has been reached. The effects of\nthe most uniform and frequent of these experiences have been\nsuccessively bequeathed, principal and interest; and have slowly\namounted to that high intelligence which lies latent in the brain\nof the infant--which the infant in after-life exercises and\nperhaps strengthens or further complicates--and which, with\nminute additions, it bequeaths to future generations(1).\" Thus we\nhave solid physiological ground for the idea of pre-existence and\nthe idea of a multiple Ego. It is incontrovertible that in every\nindividual brain is looked up the inherited memory of the\nabsolutely inconceivable multitude of experiences received by all\nthe brains of which it is the descendant. But this scientific\nassurance of self in the past is uttered in no materialistic\nsense. Science is the destroyer of materialism: it has proven\nmatter incomprehensible; and it confesses the mystery of mind\ninsoluble, even while obliged to postulate an ultimate unit of\nsensation. Out of the units of simple sensation, older than we by\nmillions of years, have undoubtedly been built up all the\nemotions and faculties of man. Here Science, in accord with\nBuddhism, avows the Ego composite, and, like Buddhism, explains\nthe psychical riddles of the present by the psychical experiences\nof the past.\n\n(1) Principles of Psychology: \"The Feelings.\"\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTo many persons it must seem that the idea of Soul as an infinite\nmultiple would render impossible any idea of religion in the\nWestern sense; and those unable to rid themselves of old\ntheological conceptions doubtless imagine that even in Buddhist\ncountries, and despite the evidence of Buddhist texts, the faith\nof the common people is really based upon the idea of the soul as\na single entity. But Japan furnishes remarkable proof to the\ncontrary. The uneducated common people, the poorest country-folk\nwho have never studied Buddhist metaphysics, believe the self\ncomposite. What is even more remarkable is that in the primitive\nfaith, Shinto, a kindred doctrine exists; and various forms of\nthe belief seem to characterize the thought of the Chinese and of\nthe Koreans. All these peoples of the Far East seem to consider\nthe soul compound; whether in the Buddhist sense, or in the\nprimitive sense represented by Shinto (a sort of ghostly\nmultiplying by fission), or in the fantastic sense elaborated by\nChinese astrology. In Japan I have fully satisfied myself that\nthe belief is universal. It is not necessary to quote here from\nthe Buddhist texts, because the common or popular beliefs, and\nnot the philosophy of a creed, can alone furnish evidence that\nreligious fervor is compatible and consistent with the notion of\na composite soul. Certainly the Japanese peasant does not think\nthe psychical Self nearly so complex a thing as Buddhist\nphilosophy considers it, or as Western science proves it to be.\n_But he thinks of himself as multiple_. The struggle within him\nbetween impulses good and evil he explains as a conflict between\nthe various ghostly wills that make up his Ego; and his spiritual\nhope is to disengage his better self or selves from his worse\nselves,--Nirvana, or the supreme bliss, being attainable only\nthrough the survival of the best within him. Thus his religion\nappears to be founded upon a natural perception of psychical\nevolution not nearly so remote from scientific thought as are\nthose conventional notions of soul held by our common people at\nhome. Of course his ideas on these abstract subjects are vague\nand unsystematized; but their general character and tendencies\nare unmistakable; and there can be no question whatever as to the\nearnestness of his faith, or as to the influence of that faith\nupon his ethical life.\n\nWherever belief survives among the educated classes, the same\nideas obtain definition and synthesis. I may cite, in example,\ntwo selections from compositions, written by students aged\nrespectively twenty-three and twenty-six. I might as easily cite\na score; but the following will sufficiently indicate what I\nmean:--\n\n\"Nothing is more foolish than to declare the immortality of the\nsoul. The soul is a compound; and though its elements be eternal,\nwe know they can never twice combine in exactly the same way. All\ncompound things must change their character and their\nconditions.\"\n\n\"Human life is composite. A combination of energies make the\nsoul. When a man dies his soul may either remain unchanged, or be\nchanged according to that which it combines with. Some\nphilosophers say the soul is immortal; some, that it is mortal.\nThey are both right. The soul is mortal or immortal according to\nthe change of the combinations composing it. The elementary\nenergies from which the soul is formed are, indeed, eternal; but\nthe nature of the soul is determined by the character of the\ncombinations into which those energies enter.\"\n\n\nNow the ideas expressed in these compositions will appear to the\nWestern reader, at first view, unmistakably atheistic. Yet they\nare really compatible with the sincerest and deepest faith. It\nis the use of the English word \"soul,\" not understood at all as\nwe understand it, which creates the false impression. \"Soul,\" in\nthe sense used by the young writers, means an almost infinite\ncombination of both good and evil tendencies,--a compound doomed\nto disintegration not only by the very fact of its being a\ncompound, but also by the eternal law of spiritual progress.\n\n\nIV\n\nThat the idea, which has been for thousands of years so vast a\nfactor in Oriental thought-life, should have failed to develop\nitself in the West till within, our own day, is sufficiently\nexplained by Western theology. Still, it would not be correct to\nsay that theology succeeded in rendering the notion of\npre-existence absolutely repellent to Occidental minds. Though\nChristian doctrine, holding each soul specially created out of\nnothing to fit each new body, permitted no avowed beliefs in\npre-existence, popular common-sense recognized a contradiction of\ndogma in the phenomena of heredity. In the same way, while\ntheology decided animals to be mere automata, moved by a sort of\nincomprehensible machinery called instinct, the people generally\nrecognized that animals had reasoning powers. The theories of\ninstinct and of intuition held even a generation ago seem utterly\nbarbarous to-day. They were commonly felt to be useless as\ninterpretations; but as dogmas they served to check speculation\nand to prevent heresy. Wordsworth's \"Fidelity\" and his\nmarvelously overrated \"Intimations of Immortality\" bear witness\nto the extreme timidity and crudeness of Western notions on these\nsubjects even at the beginning of the century. The love of the\ndog for his master is indeed \"great beyond all human estimate,\"\nbut for reasons Wordsworth never dreamed about; and although the\nfresh sensations of childhood are certainly intimations of\nsomething much more wonderful than Wordsworth's denominational\nidea of immortality, his famous stanza concerning them has been\nvery justly condemned by Mr. John Morley as nonsense. Before the\ndecay of theology, no rational ideas of psychological\ninheritance, of the true nature of instinct, or of the unity of\nlife, could possibly have forced their way to general\nrecognition.\n\nBut with the acceptance of the doctrine of evolution, old forms\nof thought crumbled; new ideas everywhere arose to take the place\nof worn-out dogmas; and we now have the spectacle of a general\nintellectual movement in directions strangely parallel with\nOriental philosophy. The unprecedented rapidity and\nmultiformity of scientific progress during the last fifty years\ncould not have failed to provoke an equally unprecedented\nintellectual quickening among the non-scientific. That the\nhighest and most complex organisms have been developed from the\nlowest and simplest; that a single physical basis of life is the\nsubstance of the whole living world; that no line of separation\ncan be drawn between the animal and vegetable; that the\ndifference between life and non-life is only a difference of\ndegree, not of kind; that matter is not less incomprehensible\nthan mind, while both are but varying manifestations of one and\nthe same unknown reality,--these have already become the\ncommonplaces of the new philosophy. After the first recognition\neven by theology of physical evolution, it was easy to predict\nthat the recognition of psychical evolution could not be\nindefinitely delayed; for the barrier erected by old dogma to\nkeep men from looking backward had been broken down. And to-day\nfor the student of scientific psychology the idea of\npre-existence passes out of the realm of theory into the realm of\nfact, proving the Buddhist explanation of the universal mystery\nquite as plausible as any other. \"None but very hasty thinkers,\"\nwrote the late Professor Huxley, \"will reject it on the ground of\ninherent absurdity. Like the doctrine of evolution itself, that\nof transmigration has its roots in the world of reality; and it\nmay claim such support as the great argument from analogy is\ncapable of supplying(1).\"\n\nNow this support, as given by Professor Huxley, is singularly\nstrong. It offers us no glimpse of a single soul flitting from\ndarkness to light, from death to rebirth, through myriads of\nmillions of years; but it leaves the main idea of pre-existence\nalmost exactly in the form enunciated by the Buddha himself. In\nthe Oriental doctrine, the psychical personality, like the\nindividual body, is an aggregate doomed to disintegration By\npsychical personality I mean here that which distinguishes mind\nfrom mind,--the \"me\" from the \"you\": that which we call self. To\nBuddhism this is a temporary composite of illusions. What makes\nit is the karma. What reincarnates is the karma,--the sum-total\nof the acts and thoughts of countless anterior existences,--each\nexistences,--each one of which, as an integer in some great\nspiritual system of addition and subtraction, may affect all the\nrest. Like a magnetism, the karma is transmitted from form to\nform, from phenomenon to phenomenon, determining conditions by\ncombinations. The ultimate mystery of the concentrative and\ncreative effects of karma the Buddhist acknowledges to be\ninscrutable; but the cohesion of effects he declares to be\nproduced by tanha, the desire of life, corresponding to what\nSchopenhauer called the \"will\" to live. Now we find in Herbert\nSpencer's \"Biology\" a curious parallel for this idea. He explains\nthe transmission of tendencies, and their variations, by a theory\nof polarities,--polarities of the physiological unit between\nthis theory of polarities and the Buddhist theory of tanha, the\ndifference is much less striking than the resemblance. Karma or\nheredity, tanha or polarity, are inexplicable as to their\nultimate nature: Buddhism and Science are here at one. The fact\nworthy of attention is that both recognize the same phenomena\nunder different names.\n\n(1) Evolution and Ethics, p.61 (ed 1894).\n\n\nV\n\nThe prodigious complexity of the methods by which Science has\narrived at conclusions so strangely in harmony with the ancient\nthought of the East, may suggest the doubt whether those\nconclusions could ever be made clearly comprehensible to the mass\nof Western minds. Certainly it would seem that just as the real\ndoctrines of Buddhism can be taught to the majority of believers\nthrough forms only, so the philosophy of science can be\ncommunicated to the masses through suggestion only,--suggestion\nof such facts, or arrangements of fact, as must appeal to any\nnaturally intelligent mind. But the history of scientific\nprogress assures the efficiency of this method; and there is no\nstrong reason for the supposition that, because the processes of\nthe higher science remain above the mental reach of the\nunscientific classes, the conclusions of that science will not be\ngenerally accepted. The dimensions and weights of planets; the\ndistances and the composition of stars; the law of gravitation;\nthe signification of heat, light, and color; the nature of sound,\nand a host of other scientific discoveries, are familiar to\nthousands quite ignorant of the details of the methods by which\nsuch knowledge was obtained. Again we have evidence that every\ngreat progressive movement of science during the century has been\nfollowed by considerable modifications of popular beliefs.\nAlready the churches, though clinging still to the hypothesis of\na specially-created soul, have accepted the main doctrine of\nphysical evolution; and neither fixity of belief nor intellectual\nretrogression can be rationally expected in the immediate future.\nFurther changes of religious ideas are to be looked for; and it\nis even likely that they will be effected rapidly rather than\nslowly. Their exact nature, indeed, cannot be predicted; but\nexisting intellectual tendencies imply that the doctrine of\npsychological evolution must be accepted, though not at once so\nas to set any final limit to ontological speculation; and that\nthe whole conception of the Ego will be eventually transformed\nthrough the consequently developed idea of pre-existence.\n\n\nVI\n\nMore detailed consideration of these probabilities may be\nventured. They will not, perhaps, be acknowledged as\nprobabilities by persons who regard science as a destroyer rather\nthan a modifier. But such thinkers forget that religious feeling\nis something infinitely more profound than dogma; that it\nsurvives all gods and all forms of creed; and that it only widens\nand deepens and gathers power with intellectual expansion. That\nas mere doctrine religion will ultimately pass away is a\nconclusion to which the study of evolution leads; but that\nreligion as feeling, or even as faith in the unknown power\nshaping equally a brain or a constellation, can ever utterly die,\nis not at present conceivable. Science wars only upon erroneous\ninterpretations of phenomena; it only magnifies the cosmic\nmystery, and proves that everything, however minute, is\ninfinitely wonderful and incomprehensible. And it is this\nindubitable tendency of science to broaden beliefs and to magnify\ncosmic emotion which justifies the supposition that future\nmodifications of Western religious ideas will be totally unlike\nany modifications effected in the past; that the Occidental\nconception of Self will orb into something akin to the Oriental\nconception of Self; and that all present petty metaphysical\nnotions of personality and individuality as realities per se will\nbe annihilated. Already the growing popular comprehension of the\nfacts of heredity, as science teaches them, indicates the path by\nwhich some, at least, of these modifications will be reached. In\nthe coming contest over the great question of psychological\nevolution, common intelligence will follow Science along the line\nof least resistance; and that line will doubtless be the study of\nheredity, since the phenomena to be considered, however in\nthemselves uninterpretable, are familiar to general experience,\nand afford partial answers to countless old enigmas. It is thus\nquite possible to imagine a coming form of Western religion\nsupported by the whole power of synthetic philosophy, differing\nfrom Buddhism mainly in the greater exactness of its conceptions,\nholding the soul as a composite, and teaching a new spiritual law\nresembling the doctrine of karma.\n\nAn objection to this idea will, however, immediately present\nitself to many minds. Such a modification of belief, it will be\naverred, would signify the sudden conquest and transformation of\nfeelings by ideas. \"The world,\" says Herbert Spencer, \"is not\ngoverned by ideas, but by feelings, to which ideas serve only as\nguides.\" How are the notions of a change, such as that supposed,\nto be reconciled with common knowledge of existing religious\nsentiment in the West, and the force of religious emotionalism?\n\nWere the ideas of pre-existence and of the soul as multiple\nreally antagonistic to Western religious sentiment, no\nsatisfactory answer could be made. But are they so antagonistic?\nThe idea of pre-existence certainly is not; the Occidental mind\nis already prepared for it. It is true that the notion of Self as\na composite, destined to dissolution, may seem little better than\nthe materialistic idea of annihilation,--at least to those still\nunable to divest themselves of the old habits of thought.\nNevertheless, impartial reflection will show that there is no\nemotional reason for dreading the disintegration of the Ego.\nActually, though unwittingly, it is for this very disintegration\nthat Christians and Buddhists alike perpetually pray. Who has not\noften wished to rid himself of the worse parts of his nature, of\ntendencies to folly or to wrong, of impulses to say or do unkind\nthings,--of all that lower inheritance which still clings about\nthe higher man, and weighs down his finest aspirations? Yet that\nof which we so earnestly desire the separation, the elimination,\nthe death, is not less surely a part of psychological\ninheritance, of veritable Self, than are those younger and larger\nfaculties which help to the realization of noble ideals. Rather\nthan an end to be feared, the dissolution of Self is the one\nobject of all objects to which our efforts should be turned. What\nno new philosophy can forbid us to hope is that the best elements\nof Self will thrill on to seek loftier affinities, to enter into\ngrander and yet grander combinations, till the supreme revelation\ncomes, and we discern, through infinite vision,--through the\nvanishing of all Self,--the Absolute Reality.\n\nFor while we know that even the so-called elements themselves are\nevolving, we have no proof that anything utterly dies. That we\nare is the certainty that, we have been and will be. We have\nsurvived countless evolutions, countless universes. We know that\nthrough the Cosmos all is law. No chance decides what units shall\nform the planetary core, or what shall feel the sun; what shall\nbe locked in granite and basalt, or shall multiply in plant and\nin animal. So far as reason can venture to infer from analogy,\nthe cosmical history of every ultimate unit, psychological or\nphysical, is determined just as surely and as exactly as in the\nBuddhist doctrine of karma.\n\n\nVII\n\nThe influence of Science will not be the only factor in the\nmodification of Western religious beliefs: Oriental philosophy\nwill certainly furnish another. Sanscrit, Chinese, and Pali\nscholarship, and the tireless labor of philologists in all parts\nof the East, are rapidly familiarizing Europe and America with\nall the great forms of Oriental thought; Buddhism is being\nstudied with interest throughout the Occident; and the results of\nthese studies are yearly showing themselves more and more\ndefinitely in the mental products of the highest culture. The\nschools of philosophy are not more visibly affected than the\nliterature of the period. Proof that a reconsideration of the\nproblem of the Ego is everywhere forcing itself upon Occidental\nminds, may be found not only in the thoughtful prose of the time,\nbut even in its poetry and its romance. Ideas impossible a\ngeneration ago are changing current thought, destroying old\ntastes, and developing higher feelings. Creative art, working\nunder larger inspiration, is telling what absolutely novel and\nexquisite sensations, what hitherto unimaginable pathos, what\nmarvelous deepening of emotional power, may be gained in\nliterature with the recognition of the idea of pre-existence.\nEven in fiction we learn that we have been living in a hemisphere\nonly; that we have been thinking but half-thoughts; that we need\na new faith to join past with future over the great parallel of\nthe present, and so to round out our emotional world into a\nperfect sphere. The clear conviction that the self is multiple,\nhowever paradoxical the statement seem, is the absolutely\nnecessary step to the vaster conviction that the many are One,\nthat life is unity, that there is no finite, but only infinite.\nUntil that blind pride which imagines Self unique shall have been\nbroken down, and the feeling of self and of selfishness shall\nhave been utterly decomposed, the knowledge of the Ego as\ninfinite,--as the very Cosmos,--never can be reached.\n\n\nDoubtless the simple emotional conviction that we have been in\nthe past will be developed long before the intellectual\nconviction that the Ego as one is a fiction of selfishness. But\nthe composite nature of Self must at last be acknowledged, though\nits mystery remain. Science postulates a hypothetical\npsychological unit as well as a hypothetical physiological unit;\nbut either postulated entity defies the uttermost power of\nmathematical estimate,--seems to resolve itself into pure\nghostliness. The chemist, for working purposes, must imagine an\nultimate atom; but the fact of which the imagined atom is the\nsymbol may be a force centre only,--nay, a void, a vortex, an\nemptiness, as in Buddhist concept. \"_Form is emptiness, and\nemptiness is form. What is form, that is emptiness; what is\nemptiness, that is form. Perception and conception, name and\nknowledge,--all these are emptiness._\" For science and for\nBuddhism alike the cosmos resolves itself into a vast\nphantasmagoria,--a mere play of unknown and immeasurable forces.\nBuddhist faith, however, answers the questions \"Whence?\" and\n\"Whither?\" in its own fashion, and predicts in every great cycle\nof evolution a period of spiritual expansion in which the memory\nof former births returns, and all the future simultaneously opens\nbefore the vision unveiled, even to the heaven of heavens.\nScience here remains dumb. But her silence is the Silence of the\nGnostics,--Sige, the Daughter of Depth and the Mother of Spirit.\n\nWhat we may allow ourselves to believe, with the full consent of\nScience, is that marvelous revelations await us. Within recent\ntime new senses and powers have been developed,--the sense of\nmusic, the ever-growing faculties of the mathematician.\nReasonably it may be expected that still higher unimaginable\nfaculties will be evolved in our descendants. Again it is known\nthat certain mental capacities, undoubtedly inherited, develop in\nold age only; and the average life of the human race is steadily\nlengthening. With increased longevity there surely may come into\nsudden being, through the unfolding of the larger future brain,\npowers not less wonderful than the ability to remember former\nbirths. The dreams of Buddhism can scarcely be surpassed, because\nthey touch the infinite; but who can presume to say they never\nwill be realized?\n\nNOTE.\n\nIt may be necessary to remind some of those kind enough to read\nthe foregoing that the words \"soul,\" \"self,\" \"ego,\"\n\"transmigration,\" \"heredity,\" although freely used by me, convey\nmeanings entirely foreign to Buddhist philosophy, \"Soul,\" in the\nEnglish sense of the word, does not exist for the Buddhist.\n\"Self\" is an illusion, or rather a plexus of illusions.\n\"Transmigration,\" as the passing of soul from one body to\nanother, is expressly denied in Buddhist texts of unquestionable\nauthority. It will therefore be evident that the real analogy\nwhich does exist between the doctrine of karma and the scientific\nfacts of heredity is far from complete. Karma signifies the\nsurvival, not of the same composite individuality, but of its\ntendencies, which recombine to form a new composite\nindividuality. The new being does not necessarily take even a\nhuman form: the karma does not descend from parent to child; it\nis independent of the line of heredity, although physical\nconditions of life seem to depend upon karma. The karma-being of\na beggar may have rebirth in the body of a king; that of a king\nin the body of a beggar; yet the conditions of either\nreincarnation have been predetermined by the influence of karma.\n\nIt will be asked, What then is the spiritual element in each\nbeing that continues unchanged,--the spiritual kernel, so to\nspeak, within the shell of karma,--the power that makes for\nrighteousness? If soul and body alike are temporary composites,\nand the karma (itself temporary) the only source of personality,\nwhat is the worth or meaning of Buddhist doctrine? What is it\nthat suffers by karma; what is it that lies within the illusion,\n--that makes progress,--that attains Nirvana? Is it not a self?\nNot in our sense of the word. The reality of what we call self is\ndenied by Buddhism. That which forms and dissolves the karma;\nthat which makes for righteousness; that which reaches Nirvana,\nis not our Ego in our Western sense of the word. Then what is it?\nIt is the divine in each being. It is called in Japanese\nMuga-no-taiga,--the Great Self-without-selfishness. There Is no\nother true self. The self wrapped in illusion is called\nNyorai-zo,--(Tathagata-gharba),--the Buddha yet unborn, as one in\na womb. The Infinite exists potentially in every being. That is\nthe Reality. The other self is a falsity,---a lie,--a mirage. The\ndoctrine of extinction refers only to the extinction of\nIllusions; and those sensations and feelings and thoughts, which\nbelong to this life of the flesh alone, are the illusions which\nmake the complex illusive self. By the total decomposition of\nthis false self,--as by a tearing away of veils, the Infinite\nVision comes. There is no \"soul\": the Infinite All-Soul is the\nonly eternal principle in any being;--all the rest is dream.\n\nWhat remains in Nirvana? According to one school of Buddhism\npotential identity in the infinite,--so that a Buddha, after\nhaving reached Nirvana, can return to earth. According to\nanother, identity more than potential, yet not in our sense\n\"personal.\" A Japanese friend says:--\"I take a piece of gold, and\nsay it is one. But this means that it produces on my visual\norgans a single impression. Really in the multitude of atoms\ncomposing it each atom is nevertheless distinct and separate, and\nindependent of every other atom. In Buddhahood even so are united\npsychical atoms innumerable. They are one as to condition;--yet\neach has its own independent existence.\"\n\nBut in Japan the primitive religion has so affected the common\nclass of Buddhist beliefs that it is not incorrect to speak of\nthe Japanese \"idea of self.\" It is only necessary that the\npopular Shinto idea be simultaneously considered. In Shinto we\nhave the plainest possible evidence of the conception of soul.\nBut this soul is a composite,--not a mere \"bundle of sensations,\nperceptions, and volitions,\" like the karma-being, but a number\nof souls united to form one ghostly personality. A dead man's\nghost may appear as one or as many. It can separate its units,\neach of which remains capable of a special independent action.\nSuch separation, however, appears to be temporary, the various\nsouls of the composite naturally cohering even after death, and\nreuniting after any voluntary separation. The vast mass of the\nJapanese people are both Buddhists and Shintoists; but the\nprimitive beliefs concerning the self are certainly the most\npowerful, and in the blending of the two faiths remain distinctly\nrecognizable. They have probably supplied to common imagination a\nnatural and easy explanation of the difficulties of the\nkarma-doctrine, though to what extent I am not prepared to say.\nBe it also observed that in the primitive as well as in the\nBuddhist form of belief the self is not a principle transmitted\nfrom parent to offspring,--not an inheritance always dependent\nupon physiological descent.\n\nThese facts will indicate how wide is the difference between\nEastern ideas and our own upon the subject of the preceding\nessay. They will also show that any general consideration of the\nreal analogies existing between this strange combination of\nFar-Eastern beliefs and the scientific thought of the nineteenth\ncentury could scarcely be made intelligible by strict\nphilosophical accuracy in the use of terms relating to the idea\nof self. Indeed, there are no European words capable of rendering\nthe exact meaning of the Buddhist terms belonging to Buddhist\nIdealism.\n\n\nPerhaps it may be regarded as illegitimate to wander from that\nposition so tersely enunciated by Professor Huxley in his essay\non \"Sensation and the Sensiferous Organs:\" \"In ultimate analysis\nit appears that a sensation is the equivalent in terms of\nconsciousness for a mode of motion of the matter of the\nsensorium. But if inquiry is pushed a stage further, and the\nquestion is asked, What, then, do we know about matter and\nmotion? there is but one reply possible. All we know about motion\nis that it is a name for certain changes in the relations of our\nvisual, tactile, and muscular sensations; and all we know about\nmatter is that it is the hypothetical substance of physical\nphenomena, _the assumption of which is as pure a piece of\nmetaphysical speculation as is that of a substance of mind_.\" But\nmetaphysical speculation certainly will not cease because of\nscientific recognition that ultimate truth is beyond the utmost\npossible range of human knowledge. Rather, for that very reason,\nit will continue. Perhaps it will never wholly cease. Without it\nthere can be no further modification of religious beliefs, and\nwithout modifications there can be no religious progress in\nharmony with scientific thought. Therefore, metaphysical\nspeculation seems to me not only justifiable, but necessary.\n\nWhether we accept or deny a _substance_ of mind; whether we\nimagine thought produced by the play of some unknown element\nthrough the cells of the brain, as music is made by the play of\nwind through the strings of a harp; whether we regard the motion\nitself as a special mode of vibration inherent in and peculiar to\nthe units of the cerebral structure,--still the mystery is\ninfinite, and still Buddhism remains a noble moral\nworking-hypothesis, in deep accord with the aspirations of mankind and\nwith the laws of ethical progression. Whether we believe or\ndisbelieve in the reality of that which is called the material\nuniverse, still the ethical significance of the inexplicable laws\nof heredity--of the transmission of both racial and personal\ntendencies in the unspecialized reproductive cell--remains to\njustify the doctrine of karma. Whatever be that which makes\nconsciousness, its relation to all the past and to all the future\nis unquestionable. Nor can the doctrine of Nirvana ever cease to\ncommand the profound respect of the impartial thinker. Science\nhas found evidence that known substance is not less a product of\nevolution than mind,--that all our so-called \"elements\" have been\nevolved out of \"one primary undifferentiated form of matter.\" And\nthis evidence is startlingly suggestive of some underlying truth\nin the Buddhist doctrine of emanation and illusion,--the\nevolution of all forms from the Formless, of all material\nphenomena from immaterial Unity,--and the ultimate return of all\ninto \"that state which is empty of lusts, of malice, of\ndullness,--that state in which the excitements of individuality\nare known no more, and which is therefore designated THE VOID\nSUPREME.\"\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nIN CHOLERA-TIME\n\nI\n\nChina's chief ally in the late war, being deaf and blind, knew\nnothing, and still knows nothing, of treaties or of peace. It\nfollowed the returning armies of Japan, invaded the victorious\nempire, and killed about thirty thousand people during the hot\nseason. It is still slaying; and the funeral pyres burn\ncontinually. Sometimes the smoke and the odor come wind-blown\ninto my garden down from the hills behind the town, just to\nremind me that the cost of burning an adult of my own size is\neighty sen,--about half a dollar in American money at the present\nrate of exchange.\n\nFrom the upper balcony of my house, the whole length of a\nJapanese street, with its rows of little shops, is visible down\nto the bay. Out of various houses in that street I have seen\ncholera-patients conveyed to the hospital,--the last one (only\nthis morning) my neighbor across the way, who kept a porcelain\nshop. He was removed by force, in spite of the tears and cries of\nhis family. The sanitary law forbids the treatment of cholera in\nprivate houses; yet people try to hide their sick, in spite of\nfines and other penalties, because the public cholera-hospitals\nare overcrowded and roughly managed, and the patients are\nentirely separated from all who love them. But the police are not\noften deceived: they soon discover unreported cases, and come\nwith litters and coolies. It seems cruel; but sanitary law must\nbe cruel. My neighbor's wife followed the litter, crying, until\nthe police obliged her to return to her desolate little shop. It\nis now closed up, and will probably never be opened again by the\nowners.\n\nSuch tragedies end as quickly as they begin. The bereaved, so\nsoon as the law allows, remove their pathetic belongings, and\ndisappear; and the ordinary life of the street goes on, by day\nand by night, exactly as if nothing particular had happened.\nItinerant venders, with their bamboo poles and baskets or buckets\nor boxes, pass the empty houses, and utter their accustomed\ncries; religious processions go by, chanting fragments of sutras;\nthe blind shampooer blows his melancholy whistle; the private\nwatchman makes his heavy staff boom upon the gutter-flags; the\nboy who sells confectionery still taps his drum, and sings a\nlove-song with a plaintive sweet voice, like a girl's:--\n\n\"_You and I together_.... I remained long; yet in the moment of\ngoing I thought I had only just come.\n\n\"_You and I together_.... Still I think of the tea. Old or new\ntea of Uji it might have seemed to others; but to me it was\nGyokoro tea, of the beautiful yellow of the yamabuki flower.\n\n\"_You and I together_.... I am the telegraph-operator; you are\nthe one who waits the message. I send my heart, and you receive\nit. What care we now if the posts should fall, if the wires be\nbroken?\"\n\nAnd the children sport as usual. They chase one another with\nscreams and laughter; they dance in chorus; they catch\ndragon-flies and tie them to long strings; they sing burdens of\nthe war, about cutting off Chinese heads:--\n\n\"_Chan-chan bozu no\nKubi wo hane!_\"\n\nSometimes a child vanishes; but the survivers continue their\nplay. And this is wisdom.\n\n\nIt costs only forty-four sen to burn a child. The son of one of\nmy neighbors was burned a few days ago. The little stones with\nwhich he used to play lie there in the sun just as he left\nthem.... Curious, this child-love of stones! Stones are the toys\nnot only of the children of the poor, but of all children at one\nperiod of existence: no matter how well supplied with other\nplaythings, every Japanese child wants sometimes to play with\nstones. To the child-mind a stone is a marvelous thing, and ought\nso to be, since even to the understanding of the mathematician\nthere can be nothing more wonderful than a common stone. The tiny\nurchin suspects the stone to be much more than it seems, which is\nan excellent suspicion; and if stupid grown-up folk did not\nuntruthfully tell him that his plaything is not worth thinking\nabout, he would never tire of it, and would always be finding\nsomething new and extraordinary in it. Only a very great mind\ncould answer all a child's questions about stones.\n\nAccording to popular faith, my neighbor's darling is now playing\nwith small ghostly stones in the Dry Bed of the River of Souls,\n--wondering, perhaps, why they cast no shadows. The true poetry\nin the legend of the Sai-no-Kawara is the absolute naturalness of\nits principal idea,--the phantom-continuation of that play which\nall little Japanese children play with stones.\n\n\nII\n\nThe pipe-stem seller used to make his round with two large boxes\nsuspended from a bamboo pole balanced upon his shoulder:\none box containing stems of various diameters, lengths, and\ncolors, together with tools for fitting them into metal pipes;\nand the other box containing a baby,--his own baby. Sometimes I\nsaw it peeping over the edge of the box, and smiling at the\npassers-by; sometimes I saw it lying, well wrapped up and fast\nasleep, in the bottom of the box; sometimes I saw it playing with\ntoys. Many people, I was told, used to give it toys. One of the\ntoys bore a curious resemblance to a mortuary tablet (ihai); and\nthis I always observed in the box, whether the child were asleep\nor awake.\n\nThe other day I discovered that the pipe-stem seller had\nabandoned his bamboo pole and suspended boxes. He was coming up\nthe street with a little hand-cart just big enough to hold his\nwares and his baby, and evidently built for that purpose in two\ncompartments. Perhaps the baby had become too heavy for the more\nprimitive method of conveyance. Above the cart fluttered a small\nwhite flag, bearing in cursive characters the legend _Ki-seru-rao\nkae_ (pipe-stems exchanged), and a brief petition for \"honorable\nhelp,\" _O-tasuke wo negaimasu_. The child seemed well and happy;\nand I again saw the tablet-shaped object which had so often\nattracted my notice before. It was now fastened upright to a high\nbox in the cart facing the infant's bed. As I watched the cart\napproaching, I suddenly felt convinced that the tablet was really\nan ihai: the sun shone full upon it, and there was no mistaking\nthe conventional Buddhist text. This aroused my curiosity; and I\nasked Manyemon to tell the pipe-stem seller that we had a number\nof pipes needing fresh stems,--which was true. Presently the\ncartlet drew up at our gate, and I went to look at it.\n\nThe child was not afraid, even of a foreign face,--a pretty boy.\nHe lisped and laughed and held out his arms, being evidently used\nto petting; and while playing with him I looked closely at the\ntablet. It was a Shinshu ihai, bearing a woman's kaimyo, or\nposthumous name; and Manyemon translated the Chinese characters\nfor me: _Revered and of good rank in the Mansion of Excellence,\nthe thirty-first day of the third month of the twenty-eighth year\nof Meiji_. Meantime a servant had fetched the pipes which needed\nnew stems; and I glanced at the face of the artisan as he worked.\nIt was the face of a man past middle age, with those worn,\nsympathetic lines about the mouth, dry beds of old smiles, which\ngive to so many Japanese faces an indescribable expression of\nresigned gentleness. Presently Manyemon began to ask questions;\nand when Manyemon asks questions, not to reply is possible for\nthe wicked only. Sometimes behind that dear innocent old head I\nthink I see the dawning of an aureole,--the aureole of the\nBosatsu.\n\nThe pipe-stem seller answered by telling his story. Two months\nafter the birth of their little boy, his wife had died. In the\nlast hour of her illness she had said: \"From what time I die till\nthree full years be past I pray you to leave the child always\nunited with the Shadow of me: never let him be separated from my\nihai, so that I may continue to care for him and to nurse him--\nsince thou knowest that he should have the breast for three\nyears. This, my last asking, I entreat thee, do not forget.\" But\nthe mother being dead, the father could not labor as he had been\nwont to do, and also take care of so young a child, requiring\ncontinual attention both night and day; and he was too poor to\nhire a nurse. So he took to selling pipe-stems, as he could thus\nmake a little money without leaving the child even for a minute\nalone. He could not afford to buy milk; but he had fed the boy\nfor more than a year with rice gruel and cane syrup.\n\nI said that the child looked very strong, and none the worse for\nlack of milk.\n\n\"That,\" declared Manyemon, in a tone of conviction bordering on\nreproof, \"is because the dead mother nurses him. How should he\nwant for milk?\"\n\nAnd the boy laughed softly, as if conscious of a ghostly caress.\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nSOME THOUGHTS ABOUT ANCESTOR-WORSHIP\n\n\"For twelve leagues, Ananda, around the Sala-Grove, there is no\nspot in size even as the pricking of the point of the tip of a\nhair, which is not pervaded by powerful spirits.\"\n--The Book Of the Great Decease.\n\nI\n\nThe truth that ancestor-worship, in various unobtrusive forms,\nstill survives in some of the most highly civilized countries of\nEurope, is not so widely known as to preclude the idea that any\nnon-Aryan race actually practicing so primitive a cult must\nnecessarily remain in the primitive stage of religious thought.\nCritics of Japan have pronounced this hasty judgment; and have\nprofessed themselves unable to reconcile the facts of her\nscientific progress, and the success of her advanced educational\nsystem, with the continuance of her ancestor-worship. How can the\nbeliefs of Shinto coexist with the knowledge of modern science?\nHow can the men who win distinction as scientific specialists\nstill respect the household shrine or do reverence before the\nShinto parish-temple? Can all this mean more than the ordered\nconservation of forms after the departure of faith? Is it not\ncertain that with the further progress of education, Shinto, even\nas ceremonialism, must cease to exist?\n\nThose who put such questions appear to forget that similar\nquestions might be asked about the continuance of any Western\nfaith, and similar doubts expressed as to the possibility of its\nsurvival for another century. Really the doctrines of Shinto are\nnot in the least degree more irreconcilable with modern science\nthan are the doctrines of Orthodox Christianity. Examined with\nperfect impartiality, I would even venture to say that they are\nless irreconcilable in more respects than one. They conflict less\nwith our human ideas of justice; and, like the Buddhist doctrine\nof karma, they offer some very striking analogies with the\nscientific facts of heredity,--analogies which prove Shinto to\ncontain an element of truth as profound as any single element of\ntruth in any of the world's great religions. Stated in the\nsimplest possible form, the peculiar element of truth in Shinto\nis the belief that the world of the living is directly governed\nby the world of the dead.\n\nThat every impulse or act of man is the work of a god, and that\nall the dead become gods, are the basic ideas of the cult. It\nmust be remembered, however, that the term Kami, although\ntranslated by the term deity, divinity, or god, has really no\nsuch meaning as that which belongs to the English words: it has\nnot even the meaning of those words as referring to the antique\nbeliefs of Greece and Rome. It signifies that which is \"above,\"\n\"superior,\" \"upper,\" \"eminent,\" in the non-religious sense; in\nthe religious sense it signifies a human spirit having obtained\nsupernatural power after death. The dead are the \"powers above,\"\nthe \"upper ones,\"--the Kami. We have here a conception resembling\nvery strongly the modern Spiritualistic notion of ghosts, only\nthat the Shinto idea is in no true sense democratic. The Kami are\nghosts of greatly varying dignity and power,--belonging to\nspiritual hierarchies like the hierarchies of ancient Japanese\nsociety. Although essentially superior to the living in certain\nrespects, the living are, nevertheless, able to give them\npleasure or displeasure, to gratify or to offend them,--even\nsometimes to ameliorate their spiritual condition. Wherefore\nposthumous honors are never mockeries, but realities, to the\nJapanese mind. During the present year(1), for example, several\ndistinguished statesmen and soldiers were raised to higher rank\nimmediately after their death; and I read only the other day, in\nthe official gazette, that \"His Majesty has been pleased to\nposthumously confer the Second Class of the Order of the Rising\nSun upon Major-General Baron Yamane, who lately died in Formosa.\"\nSuch imperial acts must not be regarded only as formalities\nintended to honor the memory of brave and patriotic men; neither\nshould they be thought of as intended merely to confer\ndistinction upon the family of the dead. They are essentially of\nShinto, and exemplify that intimate sense of relation between the\nvisible and invisible worlds which is the special religious\ncharacteristic of Japan among all civilized countries. To\nJapanese thought the dead are not less real than the living. They\ntake part in the daily life of the people,--sharing the humblest\nsorrows and the humblest joys. They attend the family repasts,\nwatch over the well-being of the household, assist and rejoice in\nthe prosperity of their descendants. They are present at the\npublic pageants, at all the sacred festivals of Shinto, at the\nmilitary games, and at all the entertainments especially provided\nfor them. And they are universally thought of as finding pleasure\nin the offerings made to them or the honors conferred upon them.\n\nFor the purpose of this little essay, it will be sufficient to\nconsider the Kami as the spirits of the dead,--without making any\nattempt to distinguish such Kami from those primal deities\nbelieved to have created the land. With this general\ninterpretation of the term Kami, we return, then, to the great\nShinto idea that all the dead still dwell in the world and rule\nit; influencing not only the thoughts and the acts of men, but\nthe conditions of nature. \"They direct,\" wrote Motowori, \"the\nchanges of the seasons, the wind and the rain, the good and the\nbad fortunes of states and of individual men.\" They are, in\nshort, the viewless forces behind all phenomena.\n\n(1) Written in September, 1896.\n\n\n\nII\n\nThe most interesting sub-theory of this ancient spiritualism is\nthat which explains the impulses and acts of men as due to the\ninfluence of the dead. This hypothesis no modern thinker can\ndeclare irrational, since it can claim justification from the\nscientific doctrine of psychological evolution, according to\nwhich each living brain represents the structural work of\ninnumerable dead lives,--each character a more or less\nimperfectly balanced sum of countless dead experiences with good\nand evil. Unless we deny psychological heredity, we cannot\nhonestly deny that our impulses and feelings, and the higher\ncapacities evolved through the feelings, have literally been\nshaped by the dead, and bequeathed to us by the dead; and even\nthat the general direction of our mental activities has been\ndetermined by the power of the special tendencies bequeathed to\nus. In such a sense the dead are indeed our Kami and all our\nactions are truly influenced by them. Figuratively we may say\nthat every mind is a world of ghosts,--ghosts incomparably more\nnumerous than the acknowledged millions of the higher Shinto Kami\nand that the spectral population of one grain of brain-matter\nmore than realizes the wildest fancies of the medieval schoolmen\nabout the number of angels able to stand on the point of a\nneedle. Scientifically we know that within one tiny living cell\nmay be stored up the whole life of a race,--the sum of all the\npast sensation of millions of years; perhaps even (who knows?) of\nmillions of dead planets.\n\nBut devils would not be inferior to angels in the mere power of\ncongregating upon the point of a needle. What, of bad men and of\nbad acts in this theory of Shinto? Motowori made answer;\n\"Whenever anything goes wrong in the world, it is to be\nattributed to the action of the evil gods called the Gods of\nCrookedness, whose power is so great that the Sun-Goddess and the\nCreator-God are sometimes powerless to restrain them; much less\nare human beings always able to resist their influence. The\nprosperity of the wicked, and the misfortunes of the good, which\nseem opposed to ordinary justice, are thus explained.\" All bad\nacts are due to the influence of evil deities; and evil men may\nbecome evil Kami. There are no self-contradictions in this\nsimplest of cults(1),--nothing complicated or hard to be\nunderstood. It is not certain that all men guilty of bad actions\nnecessarily become \"gods of crookedness,\" for reasons hereafter\nto be seen; but all men, good or bad, become Kami, or influences.\nAnd all evil acts are the results of evil influences.\n\nNow this teaching is in accord with certain facts of heredity.\nOur best faculties are certainly bequests from the best of our\nancestors; our evil qualities are inherited from natures in which\nevil, or that which we now call evil, once predominated. The\nethical knowledge evolved within us by civilization demands that\nwe strengthen the high powers bequeathed us by the best\nexperience of our dead, and diminish the force of the baser\ntendencies we inherit. We are under obligation to reverence and\nto obey our good Kami, and to strive against our gods of\ncrookedness. The knowledge of the existence of both is old as\nhuman reason. In some form or other, the doctrine of evil and of\ngood spirits in personal attendance upon every soul is common to\nmost of the great religions. Our own mediaeval faith developed\nthe idea to a degree which must leave an impress on our language\nfor all time; yet the faith in guardian angels and tempting\ndemons evolutionarily represents only the development of a cult\nonce simple as the religion of the Kami. And this theory of\nmediaeval faith is likewise pregnant with truth. The white-winged\nform that whispered good into the right ear, the black shape that\nmurmured evil into the left, do not indeed walk beside the man of\nthe nineteenth century, but they dwell within his brain; and he\nknows their voices and feels their urging as well and as often as\ndid his ancestors of the Middle Ages.\n\nThe modern ethical objection to Shinto is that both good and evil\nKami are to be respected. \"Just as the Mikado worshiped the gods\nof heaven and of earth, so his people prayed to the good gods in\norder to obtain blessings, and performed rites in honor of the\nbad gods to avert their displeasure.... As there are bad as well\nas good gods, it is necessary to propitiate them with offerings\nof agreeable food, with the playing of harps and the blowing of\nflutes, with singing and dancing, and with whatever else is\nlikely to put them in good-humor(2).\" As a matter of fact, in\nmodern Japan, the evil Kami appear to receive few offerings or\nhonors, notwithstanding this express declaration that they are to\nbe propitiated. But it will now be obvious why the early\nmissionaries characterized such a cult as devil-worship,\n--although, to Shinto imagination, the idea of a devil, in the\nWestern meaning of the word, never took shape. The seeming\nweakness of the doctrine is in the teaching that evil spirits are\nnot to be warred upon,--a teaching essentially\nrepellent to Roman Catholic feeling. But between the evil spirits\nof Christian and of Shinto belief there is a vast difference. The\nevil Kami is only the ghost of a dead man, and is not believed to\nbe altogether evil,--since propitiation is possible. The\nconception of absolute, unmixed evil is not of the Far East.\nAbsolute evil is certainly foreign to human nature, and therefore\nimpossible in human ghosts. The evil Kami are not devils. They\nare simply ghosts, who influence the passions of men; and only in\nthis sense the deities of the passions. Now Shinto is of all\nreligions the most natural, and therefore in certain respects the\nmost rational. It does not consider the passions necessarily evil\nin themselves, but evil only according to cause, conditions, and\ndegrees of their indulgence. Being ghosts, the gods are\naltogether human,--having the various good and bad qualities of\nmen in varying proportions. The majority are good, and the sum of\nthe influence of all is toward good rather than evil. To\nappreciate the rationality of this view requires a tolerably high\nopinion of mankind,--such an opinion as the conditions of the old\nsociety of Japan might have justified. No pessimist could profess\npure Shintoism. The doctrine is optimistic; and whoever has a\ngenerous faith in humanity will have no fault to find with the\nabsence of the idea of implacable evil from its teaching.\n\nNow it is just in the recognition of the necessity for\npropitiating the evil ghosts that the ethically rational\ncharacter of Shinto reveals itself. Ancient experience and modern\nknowledge unite in warning us against the deadly error of trying\nto extirpate or to paralyze certain tendencies in human\nnature,--tendencies which, if morbidly cultivated or freed from\nall restraint, lead to folly, to crime, and to countless social\nevils. The animal passions, the ape-and-tiger impulses, antedate\nhuman society, and are the accessories to nearly all crimes\ncommitted against it. But they cannot be killed; and they cannot\nbe safely starved. Any attempt to extirpate them would signify\nalso an effort to destroy some of the very highest emotional\nfaculties with which they remain inseparably blended. The\nprimitive impulses cannot even be numbed save at the cost of\nintellectual and emotional powers which give to human life all\nits beauty and all its tenderness, but which are, nevertheless,\ndeeply rooted in the archaic soil of passion. The highest in us\nhad its beginnings in the lowest. Asceticism, by warring against\nthe natural feelings, has created monsters. Theological\nlegislation, irrationally directed against human weaknesses, has\nonly aggravated social disorders; and laws against pleasure have\nonly provoked debaucheries. The history of morals teaches very\nplainly indeed that our bad Kami require some propitiation. The\npassions still remain more powerful than the reason in man,\nbecause they are incomparably older,--because they were once\nall-essential to self-preservation,--because they made that primal\nstratum of consciousness, out of which the nobler sentiments have\nslowly grown. Never can they be suffered to rule; but woe to\nwhosoever would deny their immemorial rights!\n\n(1) I am considering only the pure Shinto belief as expounded by\nShinto scholars. But it may be necessary to remind the reader\nthat both Buddhism and Shintoism are blended in Japan, not only\nwith each other, but with Chinese ideas of various kinds. It is\ndoubtful whether the pure Shinto ideas now exist in their\noriginal form in popular belief. We are not quite clear as to the\ndoctrine of multiple souls in Shinto,--whether the psychical\ncombination was originally thought of as dissolved by death. My\nown opinion, the result of investigation in different parts of\nJapan, is that the multiple soul was formerly believed to remain\nmultiple after death.\n\n(2) Motowori, translated by Satow.\n\n\nIII\n\nOut of these primitive, but--as may now be perceived--not\nirrational beliefs about the dead, there have been evolved moral\nsentiments unknown to Western civilization. These are well worth\nconsidering, as they will prove in harmony with the most advanced\nconception of ethics,--and especially with that immense though\nyet indefinite expansion of the sense of duty which has followed\nupon the understanding of evolution. I do not know that we have\nany reason to congratulate ourselves upon the absence from our\nlives of the sentiments in question;--I am even inclined to think\nthat we may yet find it morally necessary to cultivate sentiments\nof the same kind. One of the surprises of our future will\ncertainly be a return to beliefs and ideas long ago abandoned\nupon the mere assumption that they contained no truth,--belief\nstill called barbarous, pagan, mediaeval, by those who condemn\nthem out of traditional habit. Year after year the researches of\nscience afford us new proof that the savage, the barbarian, the\nidolater, the monk, each and all have arrived, by different\npaths, as near to some one point of eternal truth as any thinker\nof the nineteenth century. We are now learning, also, that the\ntheories of the astrologers and of the alchemists were but\npartially, not totally, wrong. We have reason even to suppose\nthat no dream of the invisible world has ever been dreamed,--that\nno hypothesis of the unseen has ever been imagined,--which future\nscience will not prove to have contained some germ of reality.\n\n\nForemost among the moral sentiments of Shinto is that of loving\ngratitude to the past,--a sentiment having no real correspondence\nin our own emotional life. We know our past better than the\nJapanese know theirs;--we have myriads of books recording or\nconsidering its every incident and condition: but we cannot in\nany sense be said to love it or to feel grateful to it. Critical\nrecognitions of its merits and of its defects;--some rare\nenthusiasms excited by its beauties; many strong denunciations of\nits mistakes: these represent the sum of our thoughts and\nfeelings about it. The attitude of our scholarship in reviewing\nit is necessarily cold; that of our art, often more than\ngenerous; that of our religion, condemnatory for the most part.\nWhatever the point of view from which we study it, our attention\nis mainly directed to the work of the dead,--either the visible\nwork that makes our hearts beat a little faster than usual while\nlooking at it, or the results of their thoughts and deeds in\nrelation to the society of their time. Of past humanity as\nunity,--of the millions long-buried as real kindred,--we either\nthink not at all, or think only with the same sort of curiosity\nthat we give to the subject of extinct races. We do indeed find\ninterest in the record of some individual lives that have left\nlarge marks in history;--our emotions are stirred by the memories\nof great captains, statesmen, discoverers, reformers,--but only\nbecause the magnitude of that which they accomplished appeals to\nour own ambitions, desires, egotisms, and not at all to our\naltruistic sentiments in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. The\nnameless dead to whom we owe most we do not trouble ourselves\nabout,--we feel no gratitude, no love to them. We even find it\ndifficult to persuade ourselves that the love of ancestors can\npossibly be a real, powerful, penetrating, life-moulding,\nreligious emotion in any form of human society,--which it\ncertainly is in Japan. The mere idea is utterly foreign to our\nways of thinking, feeling, acting. A partial reason for this, of\ncourse, is that we have no common faith in the existence of an\nactive spiritual relation between our ancestors and ourselves. If\nwe happen to be irreligious, we do not believe in ghosts. If we\nare profoundly religious, we think of the dead as removed from us\nby judgment,--as absolutely separated from us during the period\nof our lives. It is true that among the peasantry of Roman\nCatholic countries there still exists a belief that the dead are\npermitted to return to earth once a year,--on the night of All\nSouls. But even according to this belief they are not considered\nas related to the living by any stronger bond than memory; and\nthey are thought of,--as our collections of folk-lore bear\nwitness,--rather with fear than love.\n\nIn Japan the feeling toward the dead is utterly different. It is\na feeling of grateful and reverential love. It is probably the\nmost profound and powerful of the emotions of the race,--that\nwhich especially directs national life and shapes national\ncharacter. Patriotism belongs to it. Filial piety depends upon\nit. Family love is rooted in it. Loyalty is based upon it. The\nsoldier who, to make a path for his comrades through the battle,\ndeliberately flings away his life with a shout of \"_Teikoku\nmanzai!_\"--the son or daughter who unmurmuring sacrifices all the\nhappiness of existence for the sake, perhaps, of an undeserving\nor even cruel, parent; the partisan who gives up friends, family,\nand fortune, rather than break the verbal promise made in other\nyears to a now poverty-stricken master; the wife who\nceremoniously robes herself in white, utters a prayer, and\nthrusts a sword into her throat to atone for a wrong done to\nstrangers by her husband,--all these obey the will and hear the\napproval of invisible witnesses. Even among the skeptical\nstudents of the new generation, this feeling survives many wrecks\nof faith, and the old sentiments are still uttered: \"Never must\nwe cause shame to our ancestors;\" \"it is our duty to give honor\nto our ancestors.\" During my former engagement as a teacher of\nEnglish, it happened more than once that ignorance of the real\nmeaning behind such phrases prompted me to change them in written\ncomposition. I would suggest, for example, that the expression,\n\"to do honor to the memory of our ancestors,\" was more correct\nthan the phrase given. I remember one day even attempting to\nexplain why we ought not to speak of ancestors exactly as if they\nwere living parents!  Perhaps my pupils suspected me of trying to\nmeddle with their beliefs; for the Japanese never think of an\nancestor as having become \"only a memory\": their dead are alive.\n\n\nWere there suddenly to arise within us the absolute certainty\nthat our dead are still with us,--seeing every act, knowing our\nevery thought, hearing each word we utter, able to feel sympathy\nwith us or anger against us, able to help us and delighted to\nreceive our help, able to love us and greatly needing our love,--\nit is quite certain that our conceptions of life and duty would\nbe vastly changed. We should have to recognize our obligations to\nthe past in a very solemn way. Now, with the man of the Far East,\nthe constant presence of the dead has been a matter of conviction\nfor thousands of years: he speaks to them daily; he tries to give\nthem happiness; and, unless a professional criminal he never\nquite forgets his duty towards them. No one, says Hirata, who\nconstantly discharges that duty, will ever be disrespectful to\nthe gods or to his living parents. \"Such a man will also be loyal\nto his friends, and kind and gentle with his wife and children;\nfor the essence of this devotion is in truth filial piety.\" And\nit is in this sentiment that the secret of much strange feeling\nin Japanese character must be sought. Far more foreign to our\nworld of sentiment than the splendid courage with which death is\nfaced, or the equanimity with which the most trying sacrifices\nare made, is the simple deep emotion of the boy who, in the\npresence of a Shinto shrine never seen before, suddenly feels the\ntears spring to his eyes. He is conscious in that moment of what\nwe never emotionally recognize,--the prodigious debt of the\npresent to the past, and the duty of love to the dead.\n\n\nIV\n\nIf we think a little about our position as debtors, and our way\nof accepting that position, one striking difference between\nWestern and Far-Eastern moral sentiment will become manifest.\n\n\nThere is nothing more awful than the mere fact of life as mystery\nwhen that fact first rushes fully into consciousness. Out of\nunknown darkness we rise a moment into sun-light, look about us,\nrejoice and suffer, pass on the vibration of our being to other\nbeings, and fall back again into darkness. So a wave rises,\ncatches the light, transmits its motion, and sinks back into sea.\nSo a plant ascends from clay, unfolds its leaves to light and\nair, flowers, seeds, and becomes clay again. Only, the wave has\nno knowledge; the plant has no perceptions. Each human life seems\nno more than a parabolic curve of motion out of earth and back to\nearth; but in that brief interval of change it perceives the\nuniverse. The awfulness of the phenomenon is that nobody knows\nanything about it. No mortal can explain this most common, yet\nmost incomprehensible of all facts,--life in itself; yet every\nmortal who can think has been obliged betimes, to think about it\nin relation to self.\n\nI come out of mystery;--I see the sky and the land, men and women\nand their works; and I know that I must return to mystery;--and\nmerely what this means not even the greatest of philosophers--not\neven Mr. Herbert Spencer--can tell me. We are all of us riddles\nto ourselves and riddles to each other; and space and motion and\ntime are riddles; and matter is a riddle. About the before and\nthe after neither the newly-born nor the dead have any message\nfor us. The child is dumb; the skull only grins. Nature has no\nconsolation for us. Out of her formlessness issue forms which\nreturn to formlessness,--that is all. The plant becomes clay; the\nclay becomes a plant. When the plant turns to clay, what becomes\nof the vibration which was its life? Does it go on existing\nviewlessly, like the forces that shape spectres of frondage in\nthe frost upon a window-pane?\n\nWithin the horizon-circle of the infinite enigma, countless\nlesser enigmas, old as the world, awaited the coming of man.\nOedipus had to face one Sphinx; humanity, thousands of\nthousands,--all crouching among bones along the path of Time, and\neach with a deeper and a harder riddle. All the sphinxes have not\nbeen satisfied; myriads line the way of the future to devour\nlives yet unborn; but millions have been answered. We are now\nable to exist without perpetual horror because of the relative\nknowledge that guides us, the knowledge won out of the jaws of\ndestruction.\n\nAll our knowledge is bequeathed knowledge. The dead have left us\nrecord of all they were able to learn about themselves and the\nworld,--about the laws of death and life,--about things to be\nacquired and things to be avoided,--about ways of making\nexistence less painful than Nature willed it,--about right and\nwrong and sorrow and happiness,--about the error of selfishness,\nthe wisdom of kindness, the obligation of sacrifice. They left us\ninformation of everything they could find out concerning climates\nand seasons and places,--the sun and moon and stars,--the motions\nand the composition of the universe. They bequeathed us also\ntheir delusions which long served the good purpose of saving us\nfrom falling into greater ones. They left us the story of their\nerrors and efforts, their triumphs and failures, their pains and\njoys, their loves and hates,--for warning or example. They\nexpected our sympathy, because they toiled with the kindest\nwishes and hopes for us, and because they made our world. They\ncleared the land; they extirpated monsters; they tamed and taught\nthe animals most useful to us. \"_The mother of Kullervo awoke\nwithin her tomb, and from the deeps of the dust she cried to him,\n--'I have left thee the Dog, tied to a tree, that thou mayest go\nwith him to the chase.'_(1)\" They domesticated likewise the\nuseful trees and plants; and they discovered the places and the\npowers of the metals. Later they created all that we call\ncivilization,--trusting us to correct such mistakes as they could\nnot help making. The sum of their toil is incalculable; and all\nthat they have given us ought surely to be very sacred, very\nprecious, if only by reason of the infinite pain and thought\nwhich it cost. Yet what Occidental dreams of saying daily, like\nthe Shinto believer:--\"_Ye forefathers of the generations, and of\nour families, and of our kindred,--unto you, the founders of our\nhomes, we utter the gladness of our thanks_\"?\n\nNone. It is not only because we think the dead cannot hear, but\nbecause we have not been trained for generations to exercise our\npowers of sympathetic mental representation except within a very\nnarrow circle,--the family circle. The Occidental family circle\nis a very small affair indeed compared with the Oriental family\ncircle. In this nineteenth century the Occidental family is\nalmost disintegrated;--it practically means little more than\nhusband, wife, and children well under age. The Oriental family\nmeans not only parents and their blood-kindred, but grandparents\nand their kindred, and great-grandparents, and all the dead\nbehind them, This idea of the family cultivates sympathetic\nrepresentation to such a degree that the range of the emotion\nbelonging to such representation may extend, as in Japan, to many\ngroups and sub-groups of living families, and even, in time of\nnational peril, to the whole nation as one great family: a\nfeeling much deeper than what we call patriotism. As a religious\nemotion the feeling is infinitely extended to all the past; the\nblended sense of love, of loyalty, and of gratitude is not less\nreal, though necessarily more vague, than the feeling to living\nkindred.\n\nIn the West, after the destruction of antique society, no such\nfeeling could remain. The beliefs that condemned the ancients to\nhell, and forbade the praise of their works,--the doctrine that\ntrained us to return thanks for everything to the God of the\nHebrews,--created habits of thought and habits of\nthoughtlessness, both inimical to every feeling of gratitude to\nthe past. Then, with the decay of theology and the dawn of larger\nknowledge, came the teaching that the dead had no choice in their\nwork,--they had obeyed necessity, and we had only received from\nthem of necessity the results of necessity. And to-day we still\nfail to recognize that the necessity itself ought to compel our\nsympathies with those who obeyed it, and that its bequeathed\nresults are as pathetic as they are precious. Such thoughts\nrarely occur to us even in regard to the work of the living who\nserve us. We consider the cost of a thing purchased or obtained\nto ourselves;--about its cost in effort to the producer we do not\nallow ourselves to think: indeed, we should be laughed at for any\nexhibition of conscience on the subject. And our equal\ninsensibility to the pathetic meaning of the work of the past,\nand to that of the work of the present, largely explains the\nwastefulness of our civilization,--the reckless consumption by\nluxury of the labor of years in the pleasure of an hour,--the\ninhumanity of the thousands of unthinking rich, each of whom\ndissipates yearly in the gratification of totally unnecessary\nwants the price of a hundred human lives. The cannibals of\ncivilization are unconsciously more cruel than those of savagery,\nand require much more flesh. The deeper humanity,--the cosmic\nemotion of humanity,--is essentially the enemy of useless luxury,\nand essentially opposed to any form of society which places no\nrestraints upon the gratifications of sense or the pleasures of\negotism.\n\nIn the Far East, on the other hand, the moral duty of simplicity\nof life has been taught from very ancient times, because\nancestor-worship had developed and cultivated this cosmic emotion\nof humanity which we lack, but which we shall certainly be\nobliged to acquire at a later day, simply to save our selves from\nextermination, Two sayings of Iyeyasu exemplify the Oriental\nsentiment. When virtually master of the empire, this greatest of\nJapanese soldiers and statesmen was seen one day cleaning and\nsmoothing with his own hands an old dusty pair of silk hakama or\ntrousers. \"What you see me do,\" he said to a retainer, \"I am not\ndoing because I think of the worth of the garment in itself, but\nbecause I think of what it needed to produce it. It is the result\nof the toil of a poor woman; and that is why I value it. _If we\ndo not think, while using things, of the time and effort required\nto make them,--then our want of consideration puts us on a level\nwith the beasts_.\" Again, in the days of his greatest wealth, we\nhear of him rebuking his wife for wishing to furnish him too\noften with new clothing. \"When I think,\" he protested, \"of the\nmultitudes around me, and of the generations to come after me, I\nfeel it my duty to be very sparing, for their sake, of the goods\nin my possession.\" Nor has this spirit of simplicity yet departed\nfrom Japan. Even the Emperor and Empress, in the privacy of their\nown apartments, continue to live as simply as their subjects, and\ndevote most of their revenue to the alleviation of public\ndistress.\n\n(1) Kalevala; thirty-sixth Rune.\n\n\nV\n\nIt is through the teachings of evolution that there will\nultimately be developed in the West a moral recognition of duty\nto the past like that which ancestor-worship created in the Far\nEast. For even to-day whoever has mastered the first principles\nof the new philosophy cannot look at the commonest product of\nman's handiwork without perceiving something of its evolutional\nhistory. The most ordinary utensil will appear to him not the\nmere product of individual capacity on the part of carpenter or\npotter, smith or cutler, but the product of experiment continued\nthrough thousands of years with methods, with materials, and with\nforms. Nor will it be possible for him to consider the vast time\nand toil necessitated in the evolution, of any mechanical\nappliance, and yet experience no generous sentiment. Coming\ngenerations must think of the material bequests of the past in\nrelation to dead humanity.\n\nBut in the development of this \"cosmic emotion\" of humanity, a\nmuch more powerful factor than recognition of our material\nindebtedness to the past will be the recognition of our psychical\nindebtedness. For we owe to the dead our immaterial world\nalso,--the world that lives within us,--the world of all that is\nlovable in impulse, emotion, thought. Whosoever understands\nscientifically what human goodness is, and the terrible cost of\nmaking it, can find in the commonest phases of the humblest lives\nthat beauty, which is divine, and can feel that in one sense our\ndead are truly gods.\n\n\nSo long as we supposed the woman soul one in itself,--a something\nspecially created to fit one particular physical being,--the\nbeauty and the wonder of mother-love could never be fully\nrevealed to us. But with deeper knowledge we must perceive that\nthe inherited love of myriads of millions of dead mothers has\nbeen treasured up in one life;--that only thus can be interpreted\nthe infinite sweetness of the speech which the infant hears,--the\ninfinite tenderness of the look of caress which meets its gaze.\nUnhappy the mortal who has not known these; yet what mortal can\nadequately speak of them! Truly is mother-love divine; for\neverything by human recognition called divine is summed up in\nthat love; and every woman uttering and transmitting its highest\nexpression is more than the mother of man: she is the _Mater\nDei_.\n\nNeedless to speak here about the ghostliness of first love,\nsexual love, which is illusion,--because the passion and the\nbeauty of the dead revive in it, to dazzle, to delude; and to\nbewitch. It is very, very wonderful; but it is not all good,\nbecause it is not all true. The real charm of woman in herself is\nthat which comes later,--when all the illusions fade away to\nreveal a reality, lovelier than any illusion, which has been\nevolving behind the phantom-curtain of them. What is the divine\nmagic of the woman thus perceived? Only the affection, the\nsweetness, the faith, the unselfishness, the intuitions of\nmillions of buried hearts. All live again;--all throb anew, in\nevery fresh warm beat of her own.\n\nCertain amazing faculties exhibited in the highest social life\ntell in another way the story of soul structure built up by dead\nlives. Wonderful is the man who can really \"be all things to all\nmen,\" or the woman who can make herself twenty, fifty, a hundred\ndifferent women,--comprehending all, penetrating all, unerring to\nestimate all others;--seeming to have no individual self, but\nonly selves innumerable;--able to meet each varying personality\nwith a soul exactly toned to the tone of that to be encountered.\nRare these characters are, but not so rare that the traveler is\nunlikely to meet one or two of them in any cultivated society\nwhich he has a chance of studying. They are essentially multiple\nbeings,--so visibly multiple that even those who think of the Ego\nas single have to describe them as \"highly complex.\" Nevertheless\nthis manifestation of forty or fifty different characters in the\nsame person is a phenomenon so remarkable (especially remarkable\nbecause it is commonly manifested in youth long before relative\nexperience could possibly account for it) that I cannot but\nwonder how few persons frankly realize its signification.\n\nSo likewise with what have been termed the \"intuitions\" of some\nforms of genius,--particularly those which relate to the\nrepresentation of the emotions. A Shakespeare would always remain\nincomprehensible on the ancient soul-theory. Taine attempted to\nexplain him by the phrase, \"a perfect imagination;\"--and the\nphrase reaches far in the truth. But what is the meaning of a\nperfect imagination? Enormous multiplicity of\nsoul-life,--countless past existences revived in one. Nothing\nelse can explain it.... It is not however, in the world of pure\nintellect that the story of psychical complexity is most\nadmirable: it is in the world which speaks to our simplest\nemotions of love honor, sympathy, heroism.\n\n\"But by such a theory,\" some critic may observe, \"the source of\nimpulses to heroism is also the source of the impulses that\npeople jails. Both are of the dead.\" This is true. We inherited\nevil as well as good. Being composites only,--still evolving,\nstill becoming,--we inherit imperfections. But the survival of\nthe fittest in impulses is certainly proven by the average moral\ncondition of humanity,--using the word \"fittest\" in its ethical\nsense. In spite of all the misery and vice and crime, nowhere so\nterribly developed as under our own so-called Christian\ncivilization, the fact must be patent to any one who has lived\nmuch, traveled much, and thought much, that the mass of humanity\nis good, and therefore that the vast majority of impulses\nbequeathed us by past humanity is good. Also it is certain that\nthe more normal a social condition, the better its humanity.\nThrough all the past the good Kami have always managed to keep\nthe bad Kami from controlling the world. And with the acceptation\nof this truth, our future ideas of wrong and of right must take\nimmense expansion. Just as a heroism, or any act of pure goodness\nfor a noble end, must assume a preciousness heretofore\nunsuspected,--so a real crime must come to be regarded as a crime\nless against the existing individual or society, than against the\nsum of human experience, and the whole past struggle of ethical\naspiration. Real goodness will, therefore, be more prized, and\nreal crime less leniently judged. And the early Shinto teaching,\nthat no code of ethics is necessary,--that the right rule of\nhuman conduct can always be known by consulting the heart,--is a\nteaching which will doubtless be accepted by a more perfect\nhumanity than that of the present.\n\n\nVI\n\n\"Evolution\" the reader may say, \"does indeed show through its\ndoctrine of heredity that the living are in one sense really\ncontrolled by the dead. But it also shows that the dead are\nwithin us, not without us. They are part of us;--there is no\nproof that they have any existence which is not our own.\nGratitude to the past would, therefore, be gratitude to\nourselves; love of the dead would be self-love. So that your\nattempt at analogy ends in the absurd.\"\n\nNo. Ancestor-worship in its primitive form may be a symbol only\nof truth. It may be an index or foreshadowing only of the new\nmoral duty which larger knowledge must force upon as the duty of\nreverence and obedience to the sacrificial past of human ethical\nexperience. But it may also be much more. The facts of heredity\ncan never afford but half an explanation of the facts of\npsychology. A plant produces ten, twenty, a hundred plants\nwithout yielding up its own life in the process. An animal gives\nbirth to many young, yet lives on with all its physical\ncapacities and its small powers of thought undiminished. Children\nare born; and the parents survive them. Inherited the mental life\ncertainly is, not less than the physical; yet the reproductive\ncells, the least specialized of all cells, whether in plant or in\nanimal, never take away, but only repeat the parental being.\nContinually multiplying, each conveys and transmits the whole\nexperience of a race; yet leaves the whole experience of the race\nbehind it. Here is the marvel inexplicable: the\nself-multiplication of physical and psychical being,--life after\nlife thrown off from the parent life, each to become complete and\nreproductive. Were all the parental life given to the offspring,\nheredity might be said to favor the doctrine of materialism. But\nlike the deities of Hindoo legend, the Self multiplies and still\nremains the same, with full capacities for continued\nmultiplication. Shinto has its doctrine of souls multiplying by\nfission; but the facts of psychological emanation are infinitely\nmore wonderful than any theory.\n\nThe great religions have recognized that heredity could not\nexplain the whole question of self,--could not account for the\nfate of the original residual self. So they have generally united\nin holding the inner independent of the outer being. Science can\nno more fully decide the issues they have raised than it can\ndecide the nature of Reality-in-itself. Again we may vainly ask,\nWhat becomes of the forces which constituted the vitality of a\ndead plant? Much more difficult the question, What becomes of the\nsensations which formed the psychical life of a dead man?--since\nnobody can explain the simplest sensation. We know only that\nduring life certain active forces within the body of the plant or\nthe body of the man adjusted themselves continually to outer\nforces; and that after the interior forces could no longer\nrespond to the pressure of the exterior forces,--then the body in\nwhich the former were stored was dissolved into the elements out\nof which it had been built up. We know nothing more of the\nultimate nature of those elements than we know of the ultimate\nnature of the tendencies which united them. But we have more\nright to believe the ultimates of life persist after the\ndissolution of the forms they created, than to believe they\ncease. The theory of spontaneous generation (misnamed, for only\nin a qualified sense can the term \"spontaneous\" be applied to the\ntheory of the beginnings of mundane life) is a theory which the\nevolutionist must accept, and which can frighten none aware of\nthe evidence of chemistry that matter itself is in evolution. The\nreal theory (not the theory of organized life beginning in\nbottled infusions, but of the life primordial arising upon a\nplanetary surface) has enormous--nay, infinite--spiritual\nsignificance. It requires the belief that all potentialities of\nlife and thought and emotion pass from nebula to universe, from\nsystem to system, from star to planet or moon, and again back to\ncyclonic storms of atomicity; it means that tendencies survive\nsunburnings,--survive all cosmic evolutions and disintegrations.\nThe elements are evolutionary products only; and the difference\nof universe from universe must be the creation of tendencies,--of\na form of heredity too vast and complex for imagination. There is\nno chance. There is only law. Each fresh evolution must be\ninfluenced by previous evolutions,--just as each individual human\nlife is influenced by the experience of all the lives in its\nancestral chain. Must not the tendencies even of the ancestral\nforms of matter be inherited by the forms of matter to come; and\nmay not the acts and thoughts of men even now be helping to shape\nthe character of future worlds? No longer is it possible to say\nthat the dreams of the Alchemists were absurdities. And no longer\ncan we even assert that all material phenomena are not\ndetermined, as in the thought of the ancient East, by\nsoul-polarities.\n\nWhether our dead do or do not continue to dwell without us as\nwell as within us,--a question not to be decided in our present\nundeveloped state of comparative blindness,--certain it is that\nthe testimony of cosmic facts accords with one weird belief of\nShinto: the belief that all things are determined by the\ndead,--whether by ghosts of men or ghosts of worlds. Even as our\npersonal lives are ruled by the now viewless lives of the past,\nso doubtless the life of our Earth, and of the system to which it\nbelongs, is ruled by ghosts of spheres innumerable: dead\nuniverses,--dead suns and planets and moons,--as forms long since\ndissolved into the night, but as forces immortal and eternally\nworking.\n\n\nBack to the Sun, indeed, like the Shintoist, we can trace our\ndescent; yet we know that even there the beginning of us was not.\nInfinitely more remote in time than a million sun-lives was that\nbeginning,--if it can truly be said there was a beginning.\nThe teaching of Evolution is that we are one with that unknown\nUltimate, of which matter and human mind are but ever-changing\nmanifestations. The teaching of Evolution is also that each of us\nis many, yet that all of us are still one with each other and\nwith the cosmos;--that we must know all past humanity not only in\nourselves, but likewise in the preciousness and beauty of every\nfellow-life;--that we can best love ourselves in others;--that we\nshall best serve ourselves in others;--that forms are but veils\nand phantoms;--and that to the formless Infinite alone really\nbelong all human emotions, whether of the living or the dead.\n\n\n\nXV\n\nKIMIKO\n\n_Wasuraruru\nMi naran to omo\nKokoro koso\nWasure nu yori mo\nOmoi nari-kere_.\n\n\"To wish to be forgotten by the beloved is a soul-task harder far\nthan trying not to forget.\"--Poem by Kimiko.\n\nI\n\nThe name is on a paper-lantern at the entrance of a house in the\nStreet of the Geisha.\n\nSeen at night the street is one of the queerest in the world. It\nis narrow as a gangway; and the dark shining woodwork of the\nhouse-fronts, all tightly closed,--each having a tiny sliding\ndoor with paper-panes that look just like frosted glass,--makes\nyou think of first-class passenger-cabins. Really the buildings\nare several stories high; but you do not observe this at\nonce,--especially if there be no moon,--because only the lower\nstories are illuminated up to their awnings, above which all is\ndarkness. The illumination is made by lamps behind the narrow\npaper-paned doors, and by the paper-lanterns hanging\noutside,--one at every door. You look down the street between two\nlines of these lanterns,--lines converging far-off into one\nmotionless bar of yellow light. Some of the lanterns are\negg-shaped, some cylindrical; others four-sided or six-sided; and\nJapanese characters are beautifully written upon them. The street\nis very quiet,--silent as a display of cabinet-work in some great\nexhibition after closing-time. This is because the inmates are\nmostly away,--at tending banquets and other festivities. Their\nlife is of the night.\n\nThe legend upon the first lantern to the left as you go south is\n\"Kinoya: uchi O-Kata;\" and that means The House of Gold wherein\nO-Kata dwells. The lantern to the right tells of the House of\nNishimura, and of a girl Miyotsuru,--which name signifies The\nStork Magnificently Existing. Next upon the left comes the House\nof Kajita;--and in that house are Kohana, the Flower-Bud, and\nHinako, whose face is pretty as the face of a doll. Opposite is\nthe House Nagaye, wherein live Kimika and Kimiko.... And this\nluminous double litany of names is half-a-mile long.\n\nThe inscription on the lantern of the last-named house reveals\nthe relationship between Kimika and Kimiko,--and yet something\nmore; for Kimiko is styled Ni-dai-me, an honorary untranslatable\ntitle which signifies that she is only Kimiko No.2. Kimika is the\nteacher and mistress: she has educated two geisha, both named, or\nrather renamed by her, Kimiko; and this use of the same name\ntwice is proof positive that the first Kimiko--Ichi-dai-me--must\nhave been celebrated. The professional appellation borne by an\nunlucky or unsuccessful geisha is never given to her successor.\nIf you should ever have good and sufficient reason to enter the\nhouse,--pushing open that lantern-slide of a door which sets a\ngong-bell ringing to announce visits,--you might be able to see\nKimika, provided her little troupe be not engaged for the\nevening. You would find her a very intelligent person, and well\nworth talking to. She can tell, when she pleases, the most\nremarkable stories,--real flesh-and-blood stories,--true stories\nof human nature. For the Street of the Geisha is full of\ntraditions,--tragic, comic, melodramatic;--every house has its\nmemories;--and Kimika knows them all. Some are very, very\nterrible; and some would make you laugh; and some would make you\nthink. The story of the first Kimiko belongs to the last class.\nIt is not one of the most extraordinary; but it is one of the\nleast difficult for Western people to understand.\n\n\nII\n\nThere is no more Ichi-dai-me Kimiko: she is only a remembrance.\nKimika was quite young when she called that Kimiko her\nprofessional sister.\n\n\"An exceedingly wonderful girl,\" is what Kimika says of Kimiko.\nTo win any renown in her profession, a geisha must be pretty or\nvery clever; and the famous ones are usually both,--having been\nselected at a very early age by their trainers according to the\npromise of such qualities, even the commoner class of\nsinging-girls must have some charm in their best years,--if only\nthat _beaute du diable_ which inspired the Japanese proverb that\neven a devil is pretty at eighteen(1). But Kimiko was much more\nthan pretty. She was according to the Japanese ideal of beauty;\nand that standard is not reached by one woman in a hundred\nthousand. Also she was more than clever: she was accomplished.\nShe composed very dainty poems,--could arrange flowers\nexquisitely, perform tea-ceremonies faultlessly, embroider, make\nsilk mosaic: in short, she was genteel. And her first public\nappearance made a flutter in the fast world of Kyoto. It was\nevident that she could make almost any conquest she pleased, and\nthat fortune was before her.\n\nBut it soon became evident, also, that she had been perfectly\ntrained for her profession. She had been taught how to conduct\nherself under almost any possible circumstances; for what she\ncould not have known Kimika knew everything about: the power of\nbeauty, and the weakness of passion; the craft of promises and\nthe worth of indifference; and all the folly and evil in the\nhearts of men. So Kimiko made few mistakes and shed few tears. By\nand by she proved to be, as Kimika wished,--slightly dangerous.\nSo a lamp is to night-fliers: otherwise some of them would put it\nout. The duty of the lamp is to make pleasant things visible: it\nhas no malice. Kimiko had no malice, and was not too dangerous.\nAnxious parents discovered that she did not want to enter into\nrespectable families, nor even to lend herself to any serious\nromances. But she was not particularly merciful to that class of\nyouths who sign documents with their own blood, and ask a\ndancing-girl to cut off the extreme end of the little finger of\nher left hand as a pledge of eternal affection. She was\nmischievous enough with them to cure them of their folly. Some\nrich folks who offered her lands and houses on condition of\nowning her, body and soul, found her less merciful. One proved\ngenerous enough to purchase her freedom unconditionally, at a\nprice which made Kimika a rich woman; and Kimiko was\ngrateful,--but she remained a geisha. She managed her rebuffs\nwith too much tact to excite hate, and knew how to heal despairs\nin most cases. There were exceptions, of course. One old man, who\nthought life not worth living unless he could get Kimiko all to\nhimself, invited her to a banquet one evening, and asked her to\ndrink wine with him. But Kimika, accustomed to read faces, deftly\nsubstituted tea (which has precisely the same color) for Kimiko's\nwine, and so instinctively saved the girl's precious life,--for\nonly ten minutes later the soul of the silly host was on its way\nto the Meido alone, and doubtless greatly disappointed.... After\nthat night Kimika watched over Kimiko as a wild cat guards her\nkitten.\n\nThe kitten became a fashionable mania, a craze,--a delirium,--one\nof the great sights and sensations of the period. There is a\nforeign prince who remembers her name: he sent her a gift of\ndiamonds which she never wore. Other presents in multitude she\nreceived from all who could afford the luxury of pleasing her;\nand to be in her good graces, even for a day, was the ambition of\nthe \"gilded youth.\" Nevertheless she allowed no one to imagine\nhimself a special favorite, and refused to make any contracts for\nperpetual affection. To any protests on the subject she answered\nthat she knew her place. Even respectable women spoke not\nunkindly of her,--because her name never figured in any story of\nfamily unhappiness. She really kept her place. Time seemed to\nmake her more charming. Other geisha grew into fame, but no one\nwas even classed with her. Some manufacturers secured the sole\nright to use her photograph for a label; and that label made a\nfortune for the firm.\n\n\nBut one day the startling news was abroad that Kimiko had at last\nshown a very soft heart. She had actually said good-by to Kimika,\nand had gone away with somebody able to give her all the pretty\ndresses she could wish for,--somebody eager to give her social\nposition also, and to silence gossip about her naughty\npast,--somebody willing to die for her ten times over, and\nalready half-dead for love of her. Kimika said that a fool had\ntried to kill himself because of Kimiko, and that Kimiko had\ntaken pity on him, and nursed him back to foolishness. Taiko\nHideyoshi had said that there were only two things in this world\nwhich he feared,--a fool and a dark night. Kimika had always been\nafraid of a fool; and a fool had taken Kimiko away. And she\nadded, with not unselfish tears, that Kimiko would never come\nback to her: it was a case of love on both sides for the time of\nseveral existences.\n\nNevertheless, Kimika was only half right. She was very shrewd\nindeed; but she had never been able to see into certain private\nchambers in the soul of Kimiko. If she could have seen, she would\nhave screamed for astonishment.\n\n(1) Oni mo jiuhachi, azami no hana. There is a similar saying of\na dragon: ja mo hatachi (\"even a dragon at twenty\").\n\n\nIII\n\nBetween Kimiko and other geisha there was a difference of gentle\nblood. Before she took a professional name, her name was Ai,\nwhich, written with the proper character, means love. Written\nwith another character the same word-sound signifies grief. The\nstory of Ai was a story of both grief and love.\n\nShe had been nicely brought up. As a child she had been sent to a\nprivate school kept by an old samurai,--where the little girls\nsquatted on cushions before little writing-tables twelve inches\nhigh, and where the teachers taught without salary. In these days\nwhen teachers get better salaries than civil-service officials,\nthe teaching is not nearly so honest or so pleasant as it used to\nbe. A servant always accompanied the child to and from the\nschool-house, carrying her books, her writing-box, her kneeling\ncushion, and her little table.\n\nAfterwards she attended an elementary public school. The first\n\"modern\" text-books had just been issued,--containing Japanese\ntranslations of English, German, and French stories about honor\nand duty and heroism, excellently chosen, and illustrated with\ntiny innocent pictures of Western people in costumes never of\nthis world. Those dear pathetic little text-books are now\ncuriosities: they have long been superseded by pretentious\ncompilations much less lovingly and sensibly edited. Ai learned\nwell. Once a year, at examination time, a great official would\nvisit the school, and talk to the children as if they were all\nhis own, and stroke each silky head as he distributed the prizes.\nHe is now a retired statesman, and has doubtless forgotten\nAi;--and in the schools of to-day nobody caresses little girls,\nor gives them prizes.\n\nThen came those reconstructive changes by which families of rank\nwere reduced to obscurity and poverty; and Ai had to leave\nschool. Many great sorrows followed, till there remained to her\nonly her mother and an infant sister. The mother and Ai could do\nlittle but weave; and by weaving alone they could not earn enough\nto live. House and lands first,--then, article by article, all\nthings not necessary to existence--heirlooms, trinkets, costly\nrobes, crested lacquer-ware--passed cheaply to those whom misery\nmakes rich, and whose wealth is called by the people _Namida no\nkane_,--\"the Money of Tears.\" Help from the living was\nscanty,--for most of the samurai-families of kin were in like\ndistress. But when there was nothing left to sell,--not even Ai's\nlittle school-books,--help was sought from the dead.\n\nFor it was remembered that the father of Ai's father had been\nburied with his sword, the gift of a daimyo; and that the\nmountings of the weapon were of gold. So the grave was opened,\nand the grand hilt of curious workmanship exchanged for a common\none, and the ornaments of the lacquered sheath removed. But the\ngood blade was not taken, because the warrior might need it. Ai\nsaw his face as he sat erect in the great red-clay urn which\nserved in lieu of coffin to the samurai of high rank when buried\nby the ancient rite. His features were still recognizable after\nall those years of sepulture; and he seemed to nod a grim assent\nto what had been done as his sword was given back to him.\n\nAt last the mother of Ai became too weak and ill to work at the\nloom; and the gold of the dead had been spent. Ai said:--\"Mother,\nI know there is but one thing now to do. Let me be sold to the\ndancing-girls.\" The mother wept, and made no reply. Ai did not\nweep, but went out alone.\n\nShe remembered that in other days, when banquets were given in\nher father's house, and dancers served the wine, a free geisha\nnamed Kimika had often caressed her. She went straight to the\nhouse of Kimika. \"I want you to buy me,\" said Ai;--\"and I want a\ngreat deal of money.\" Kimika laughed, and petted her, and made\nher eat, and heard her story,--which was bravely told, without\none tear. \"My child,\" said Kimika, \"I cannot give you a great\ndeal of money; for I have very little. But this I can do:--I can\npromise to support your mother. That will be better than to give\nher much money for you,--because your mother, my child, has been\na great lady, and therefore cannot know how to use money\ncunningly. Ask your honored mother to sign the bond,--promising\nthat you will stay with me till you are twenty-four years old, or\nuntil such time as you can pay me back. And what money I can now\nspare, take home with you as a free gift.\"\n\nThus Ai became a geisha; and Kimika renamed her Kimiko, and kept\nthe pledge to maintain the mother and the child-sister. The\nmother died before Kimiko became famous; the little sister was\nput to school. Afterwards those things already told came to pass.\n\n\nThe young man who had wanted to die for love of a dancing-girl\nwas worthy of better things. He was an only son and his parents,\nwealthy and titled people, were willing to make any sacrifice for\nhim,--even that of accepting a geisha for daughter-in-law.\nMoreover they were not altogether displeased with Kimiko, because\nof her sympathy for their boy.\n\nBefore going away, Kimiko attended the wedding of her young\nsister, Ume, who had just finished school. She was good and\npretty. Kimiko had made the match, and used her wicked knowledge\nof men in making it. She chose a very plain, honest,\nold-fashioned merchant,--a man who could not have been bad, even\nif he tried. Ume did not question the wisdom of her sister's\nchoice, which time proved fortunate.\n\n\nIV\n\nIt was in the period of the fourth moon that Kimiko was carried\naway to the home prepared for her,--a place in which to forget\nall the unpleasant realities of life,--a sort of fairy-palace lost\nin the charmed repose of great shadowy silent high-walled\ngardens. Therein she might have felt as one reborn, by reason of\ngood deeds, into the realm of Horai. But the spring passed, and\nthe summer came,--and Kimiko remained simply Kimiko. Three times\nshe had contrived, for reasons unspoken, to put off the\nwedding-day.\n\n\nIn the period of the eighth moon, Kimiko ceased to be playful,\nand told her reasons very gently but very firmly:--\"It is time\nthat I should say what I have long delayed saying. For the sake\nof the mother who gave me life, and for the sake of my little\nsister, I have lived in hell. All that is past; but the scorch of\nthe fire is upon me, and there is no power that can take it away.\nIt is not for such as I to enter into an honored family,--nor to\nbear you a son,--nor to build up your house.... Suffer me to\nspeak; for in the knowing of wrong I am very, very much wiser\nthan you.... Never shall I be your wife to become your shame. I\nam your companion only, your play-fellow, your guest of an hour,\n--and this not for any gifts. When I shall be no longer with you\nnay! certainly that day must come!--you will have clearer sight.\nI shall still be dear to you, but not in the same way as\nnow--which is foolishness. You will remember these words out of\nmy heart. Some true sweet lady will be chosen for you, to become\nthe mother of your children. I shall see them; but the place of a\nwife I shall never take, and the joy of a mother I must never\nknow. I am only your folly, my beloved,--an illusion, a dream, a\nshadow flitting across your life. Somewhat more in later time I\nmay become, but a wife to you never, neither in this existence\nnor in the next. Ask me again-and I go.\"\n\n\nIn the period of the tenth moon, and without any reason\nimaginable, Kimiko disappeared,--vanished,--utterly ceased to\nexist.\n\n\nV\n\nNobody knew when or how or whither she had gone. Even in the\nneighborhood of the home she had left, none had seen her pass. At\nfirst it seemed that she must soon return. Of all her beautiful\nand precious things-her robes, her ornaments, her presents: a\nfortune in themselves--she had taken nothing. But weeks passed\nwithout word or sign; and it was feared that something terrible\nhad befallen her. Rivers were dragged, and wells were searched.\nInquiries were made by telegraph and by letter. Trusted servants\nwere sent to look for her. Rewards were offered for any\nnews--especially a reward to Kimika, who was really attached to\nthe girl, and would have been only too happy to find her without\nany reward at all. But the mystery remained a mystery.\nApplication to the authorities would have been useless: the\nfugitive had done no wrong, broken no law; and the vast machinery\nof the imperial police-system was not to be set in motion by the\npassionate whim of a boy. Months grew into years; but neither\nKimika, nor the little sister in Kyoto, nor any one of the\nthousands who had known and admired the beautiful dancer, ever\nsaw Kimiko again.\n\nBut what she had foretold came true;--for time dries all tears\nand quiets all longing; and even in Japan one does not really try\nto die twice for the same despair. The lover of Kimiko became\nwiser; and there was found for him a very sweet person for wife,\nwho gave him a son. And other years passed; and there was\nhappiness in the fairy-home where Kimiko had once been.\n\nThere came to that home one morning, as if seeking alms, a\ntraveling nun; and the child, hearing her Buddhist cry of\n\"_Ha--i! ha--i!_\" ran to the gate. And presently a house-servant,\nbringing out the customary gift of rice, wondered to see the nun\ncaressing the child, and whispering to him. Then the little one\ncried to the servant, \"Let me give!\"--and the nun pleaded from\nunder the veiling shadow of her great straw hat: \"Honorably allow\nthe child to give me.\" So the boy put the rice into the\nmendicant's bowl. Then she thanked him, and asked:--\"Now will\nyou say again for me the little word which I prayed you to tell\nyour honored father?\" And the child lisped:--\"_Father, one whom\nyou will never see again in this world, says that her heart is\nglad because she has seen your son_.\"\n\nThe nun laughed softly, and caressed him again, and passed away\nswiftly; and the servant wondered more than ever, while the child\nran to tell his father the words of the mendicant.\n\nBut the father's eyes dimmed as he heard the words, and he wept\nover his boy. For he, and only he, knew who had been at the gate,\n--and the sacrificial meaning of all that had been hidden.\n\n\nNow he thinks much, but tells his thought to no one.\n\nHe knows that the space between sun and sun is less than the\nspace between himself and the woman who loved him.\n\nHe knows it were vain to ask in what remote city, in what\nfantastic riddle of narrow nameless streets, in what obscure\nlittle temple known only to the poorest poor, she waits for the\ndarkness before the Dawn of the Immeasurable Light,--when the\nFace of the Teacher will smile upon her,--when the Voice of the\nTeacher will say to her, in tones of sweetness deeper than ever\ncame from human lover's lips:--\"_O my daughter in the Law, thou\nhast practiced the perfect way; thou hast believed and understood\nthe highest truth;--therefore come I now to meet and to welcome\nthee!_\"\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX\n\n\nTHREE POPULAR BALLADS\n\nRead before the Asiatic Society of Japan, October 17, 1894.\n\n\nDuring the spring of 1891, I visited the settlement in Matsue,\nIzumo, of an outcast people known as the _yama-no-mono_. Some\nresults of the visit were subsequently communicated to the \"Japan\nMail,\" in a letter published June 13, 1891, and some extracts\nfrom that letter I think it may be worth while to cite here, by\nway of introduction to the subject of the present paper.\n\n\n\"The settlement is at the southern end of Matsue in a tiny\nvalley, or rather hollow among the hills which form a half-circle\nbehind the city. Few Japanese of the better classes have ever\nvisited such a village; and even the poorest of the common people\nshun the place as they would shun a centre of contagion; for the\nidea of defilement, both moral and physical, is still attached to\nthe very name of its inhabitants. Thus, although the settlement\nis within half an hour's walk from the heart of the city,\nprobably not half a dozen of the thirty-six thousand residents of\nMatsue have visited it.\n\n\"There are four distinct outcast classes in Matsue and its\nenvirons: the _hachiya_, the _koya-no-mono_, the _yama-no-mono_,\nand the _eta_ of Suguta.\n\n\"There are two settlements of _hachiya_. These were formerly the\npublic executioners, and served under the police in various\ncapacities. Although by ancient law the lowest class of pariahs,\ntheir intelligence was sufficiently cultivated by police service\nand by contact with superiors to elevate them in popular opinion\nabove the other outcasts. They are now manufacturers of bamboo\ncages and baskets. They are said to be descendants of the family\nand retainers of Taira-no-Masakado-Heishino, the only man in\nJapan who ever seriously conspired to seize the imperial thrones\nby armed force, and who was killed by the famous general\nTaira-no-Sadamori.\n\n\"The _koya-no-mono_ are slaughterers and dealers in hides. They\nare never allowed to enter any house in Matsue except the shop of\na dealer in geta and other footgear. Originally vagrants, they\nwere permanently settled in Matsue by some famous daimyo, who\nbuilt for them small houses--_koya_--on the bank of the canal.\nHence their name. As for the _eta_ proper, their condition and\ncalling are too familiar to need comment in this connection.\n\n\"The _yama-no-mono_ are so called because they live among the\nhills (_yama_) at the southern end of Matsue. They have a\nmonopoly of the rag-and-waste-paper business, and are buyers of\nall sorts of refuse, from old bottles to broken-down machinery.\nSome of them are rich. Indeed, the whole class is, compared with\nother outcast classes, prosperous. Nevertheless, public prejudice\nagainst them is still almost as strong as in the years previous\nto the abrogation of the special laws concerning them. Under no\nconceivable circumstances could any of them obtain employment as\nservants. Their prettiest girls in old times often became _joro_;\nbut at no time could they enter a _joroya_ in any neighboring\ncity, much less in their own, so they were sold to establishments\nin remote places. A _yama-no-mono_ to-day could not even become a\n_kurumaya_. He could not obtain employment as a common laborer in\nany capacity, except by going to some distant city where he could\nhope to conceal his origin. But if detected under such conditions\nhe would run serious risk of being killed by his fellow-laborers.\nUnder any circumstance it would be difficult for a\n_yama-no-mono_ to pass himself off for a _heimin_. Centuries of\nisolation and prejudice have fixed and moulded the manners of the\nclass in recognizable ways; and even its language has become a\nspecial and curious dialect.\n\n\"I was anxious to see something of a class so singularly situated\nand specialized; and I had the good fortune to meet a Japanese\ngentleman who, although belonging to the highest class of Matsue,\nwas kind enough to agree to accompany me to their village, where\nhe had never been himself. On the way thither he told me many\ncurious things about the _yama-no-mono_. In feudal times these\npeople had been kindly treated by the samurai; and they were\noften allowed or invited to enter the courts of samurai dwellings\nto sing and dance, for which performances they were paid. The\nsongs and the dances with which they were able to entertain even\nthose aristocratic families were known to no other people, and\nwere called Daikoku-mai. Singing the Daikoku-mai was, in fact,\nthe special hereditary art of the _yama-no-mono_, and represented\ntheir highest comprehension of aesthetic and emotional matters.\nIn former times they could not obtain admittance to a respectable\ntheatre; and, like the _hachiya_, had theatres of their own. It\nwould be interesting, my friend added, to learn the origin of\ntheir songs and their dances; for their songs are not in their\nown special dialect, but in pure Japanese. And that they should\nhave been able to preserve this oral literature without\ndeterioration is especially remarkable from the fact that the\n_yama-no-mono_ were never taught to read or write. They could not\neven avail themselves of those new educational opportunities\nwhich the era of Meiji has given to the masses; prejudice is\nstill far too strong to allow of their children being happy in a\npublic school. A small special school might be possible, though\nthere would perhaps be no small difficulty in obtaining willing\nteachers(1).\n\n\"The hollow in which the village stands is immediately behind the\nBuddhist cemetery of Tokoji. The settlement has its own Shinto\ntemple. I was extremely surprised at the aspect of the place; for\nI had expected to see a good deal of ugliness and filth. On the\ncontrary, I saw a multitude of neat dwellings, with pretty\ngardens about them, and pictures on the walls of the rooms. There\nwere many trees; the village was green with shrubs and plants,\nand picturesque to an extreme degree; for, owing to the\nirregularity of the ground, the tiny streets climbed up and down\nhill at all sorts of angles,--the loftiest street being fifty or\nsixty feet above the lowermost. A large public bath-house and a\npublic laundry bore evidence that the _yama-no-mono_ liked clean\nlinen as well as their _heimin_ neighbors on the other side of\nthe hill.\n\n\"A crowd soon gathered to look at the strangers who had come to\ntheir village,--a rare event for them. The faces I saw seemed\nmuch like the faces of the _heimin_, except that I fancied the\nugly ones were uglier, making the pretty ones appear more pretty\nby contrast. There were one or two sinister faces, recalling\nfaces of gypsies that I had seen; while some little girls, on the\nother hand, had remarkably pleasing features. There were no\nexchanges of civilities, as upon meeting _heimin_; a Japanese of\nthe better class would as soon think of taking off his hat to a\n_yama-no-mono_ as a West-Indian planter would think of bowing to\na negro. The _yama-no-mono_ themselves usually show by their\nattitude that they expect no forms. None of the men saluted us;\nbut some of the women, on being kindly addressed, made obeisance.\nOther women, weaving coarse straw sandals (an inferior quality of\nzori), would answer only 'yes' or 'no' to questions, and seemed\nto be suspicious of us. My friend called my attention to the fact\nthat the women were dressed differently from Japanese women of\nthe ordinary classes. For example, even among the very poorest\n_heimin_ there are certain accepted laws of costume; there are\ncertain colors which may or may not be worn, according to age.\nBut even elderly women among these people wear obi of bright red\nor variegated hues, and kimono of a showy tint.\n\n\"Those of the women seen in the city street, selling or buying,\nare the elders only. The younger stay at home. The elderly women\nalways go into town with large baskets of a peculiar shape, by\nwhich the fact that they are _yama-no-mono_ is at once known.\nNumbers of these baskets were visible, principally at the doors\nof the smaller dwellings. They are carried on the back, and are\nused to contain all that the _yama-no-mono_ buy,--old paper, old\nwearing apparel, bottles, broken glass, and scrap-metal.\n\n\"A woman at last ventured to invite us to her house, to look at\nsome old colored prints she wished to sell. Thither we went, and\nwere as nicely received as in a _heimin_ residence. The pictures\n--including a number of drawings by Hiroshige--proved to be worth\nbuying; and my friend then asked if we could have the pleasure of\nhearing the Daikoku-mai. To my great satisfaction the proposal\nwas well received; and on our agreeing to pay a trifle to each\nsinger, a small band of neat-looking young girls, whom we had not\nseen before, made their appearance, and prepared to sing, while\nan old woman made ready to dance. Both the old woman and the\ngirls provided themselves with curious instruments for the\nperformance. Three girls had instruments shaped like mallets,\nmade of paper and bamboo: these were intended to represent the\nhammer of Dai-koku(2); they were held in the left hand, a fan\nbeing waved in the right. Other girls were provided with a kind\nof castanets,--two flat pieces of hard dark wood, connected by a\nstring. Six girls formed in a line before the house. The old\nwoman took her place facing the girls, holding in her hands two\nlittle sticks, one stick being notched along a part of its\nlength. By drawing it across the other stick, a curious rattling\nnoise was made.\n\n\"My friend pointed out to me that the singers formed two distinct\nparties, of three each. Those bearing the hammer and fan were the\nDaikoku band: they were to sing the ballads. Those with the\ncastanets were the Ebisu party and formed the chorus.\n\n\"The old woman rubbed her little sticks together, and from the\nthroats of the Daikoku band there rang out a clear, sweet burst\nof song, quite different from anything I had heard before in\nJapan, while the tapping of the castanets kept exact time to the\nsyllabification of the words, which were very rapidly uttered.\nWhen the first three girls had sung a certain number of lines,\nthe voices of the other three joined in, producing a very\npleasant though untrained harmony; and all sang the burden\ntogether. Then the Daikoku party began another verse; and, after\na certain interval, the chorus was again sung. In the meanwhile\nthe old woman was dancing a very fantastic dance which provoked\nlaughter from the crowd, occasionally chanting a few comic words.\n\n\"The song was not comic, however; it was a very pathetic ballad\nentitled 'Yaoya O-Shichi.' Yaoya O-Shichi was a beautiful girl,\nwho set fire to her own house in order to obtain another meeting\nwith her lover, an acolyte in a temple where she expected that\nher family would be obliged to take refuge after the fire. But\nbeing detected and convicted of arson, she was condemned by the\nsevere law of that age to be burnt alive. The sentence was\ncarried into effect; but the youth and beauty of the victim, and\nthe motive of her offense, evoked a sympathy in the popular heart\nwhich found later expression in song and, drama.\n\n\"None of the performers, except the old woman, lifted the feet\nfrom the ground while singing--but all swayed their bodies in\ntime to the melody. The singing lasted more than one hour, during\nwhich the voices never failed in their quality; and yet, so far\nfrom being weary of it, and although I could not understand a\nword uttered, I felt very sorry when it was all over. And with\nthe pleasure received there came to the foreign listener also a\nstrong sense of sympathy for the young singers, victims of a\nprejudice so ancient that its origin is no longer known.\"\n\n(1) Since the time this letter to the Mail was written, a primary\nschool has been established for the yama-no-mono, through the\nbenevolence of Matsue citizens superior to prejudice. The\nundertaking did not escape severe local criticism, but it seems\nto have proved successful.\n\n(2) Daikoku is the popular God of Wealth. Ebisu is the patron of\nlabor. See, for the history of these deities, an article\n(translated) entitled \"The Seven Gods of Happiness,\" by Carlo\nPuini, vol. iii. Transactions of the Asiatic Society. See, also,\nfor an account of their place in Shinto worship, Glimpses of\nUnfamiliar Japan, vol. 1.\n\n\n\nThe foregoing extracts from my letter to the \"Mail\" tell the\nhistory of my interest in the Daikoku-mai. At a later time I was\nable to procure, through the kindness of my friend Nishida\nSentaro, of Matsue, written copies of three of the ballads as\nsung by the _yama-no-mono_; and translations of these were\nafterwards made for me. I now venture to offer my prose\nrenderings of the ballads,--based on the translations referred\nto,--as examples of folk-song not devoid of interest. An\nabsolutely literal rendering, executed with the utmost care, and\namply supplied with explanatory notes, would be, of course, more\nworthy the attention of a learned society. Such a version would,\nhowever, require a knowledge of Japanese which I do not possess,\nas well as much time and patient labor. Were the texts in\nthemselves of value sufficient to justify a scholarly\ntranslation, I should not have attempted any translation at all;\nbut I felt convinced that their interest was of a sort which\ncould not be much diminished by a free and easy treatment. From\nany purely literary point of view, the texts are disappointing,\nexhibiting no great power of imagination, and nothing really\nworthy to be called poetical art. While reading such verses, we\nfind ourselves very far away indeed from the veritable poetry of\nJapan,--from those compositions which, with a few chosen\nsyllables only, can either create a perfect colored picture in\nthe mind, or bestir the finest sensations of memory with\nmarvelous penetrative delicacy. The Daikoku-mai are extremely\ncrude; and their long popularity has been due, I fancy, rather to\nthe very interesting manner of singing them than to any quality\nwhich could permit us to compare them with the old English\nballads.\n\nThe legends upon which these chants were based still exist in\nmany other forms, including dramatic compositions. I need\nscarcely refer to the vast number of artistic suggestions which\nthey have given, but I may observe that their influence in this\nregard has not yet passed away. Only a few months ago, I saw a\nnumber of pretty cotton prints, fresh from the mill, picturing\nOguri-Hangwan making the horse Onikage stand upon a chessboard.\nWhether the versions of the ballads I obtained in Izumo were\ncomposed there or elsewhere I am quite unable to say; but the\nstories of Shuntoku-maru, Oguri-Hangwan, and Yaoya O-Shichi are\ncertainly well known in every part of Japan.\n\nTogether with these prose translations, I submit to the Society\nthe original texts, to which are appended some notes of interest\nabout the local customs connected with the singing of the\nDaikoku-mai, about the symbols used by the dancers, and about the\ncomic phrases chanted at intervals during the\nperformances,--phrases of which the coarse humor sometimes\nforbids any rendering.\n\nAll the ballads are written in the same measure, exemplified by\nthe first four lines of \"Yaoya O-Shichi.\"\n\nKoe ni yoru ne no, aki no skika\nTsuma yori miwoba kogasu nari\nGo-nin musume no sanno de\nIro mo kawasanu Edo-zakura.\n\nThe chorus, or _hayashi_, does not seem to be sung at the end of\na fixed number of lines, but rather at the termination of certain\nparts of the recitative. There is also no fixed limit to the\nnumber of singers in either band: these may be very many or very\nfew. I think that the curious Izumo way of singing the burden--so\nthat the vowel sounds in the word iya uttered by one band, and in\nthe word sorei uttered by the other, are made to blend together\n--might be worth the attention of some one interested in Japanese\nfolk-music. Indeed, I am convinced that a very delightful and\nwholly unexplored field of study offers itself in Japan to the\nstudent of folk-music and popular chants. The songs of the\n_Honen-odori_, or harvest dances, with their curious choruses;\nthe chants of the _Bon-odori_, which differ in every district;\nthe strange snatches of song, often sweet and weird, that one\nhears from the rice-fields or the mountain slopes in remote\nprovinces, have qualities totally different from those we are\naccustomed to associate with the idea of Japanese music,--a charm\nindisputable even for Western ears, because not less in harmony\nwith the nature inspiring it than the song of a bird or the\nshrilling of cicadae. To reproduce such melodies, with their\nextraordinary fractional tones, would be no easy task, but I\ncannot help believing that the result would fully repay the\nlabor. Not only do they represent a very ancient, perhaps\nprimitive musical sense: they represent also something\nessentially characteristic of the race; and there is surely much\nto be learned in regard to race-emotion from the comparative\nstudy of folk-music.\n\nThe fact, however, that few of those peculiarities which give so\nstrange a charm to the old peasant-chants are noticeable in the\nIzumo manner of singing the Daikoku-mai would perhaps indicate\nthat the latter are comparatively modern.\n\n\nTHE BALLAD OF SHUNTOKU-MARU\n\n_Ara!--Joyfully young Daikoko and Ebisu enter dancing_\n\nShall we tell a tale, or shall we utter felicitations? A tale:\nthen of what is it best that we should tell? Since we are bidden\nto your august house to relate a story, we shall relate the story\nof Shuntoku.\n\n\nSurely there once lived, in the Province of Kawachi, a very rich\nman called Nobuyoshi. And his eldest son was called\nShuntoku-maru.\n\nWhen Shuntoku-maru, that eldest son, was only three years old,\nhis mother died. And when he was five years old, there was given\nto him a stepmother.\n\nWhen he was seven years old, his stepmother gave birth to a son\nwho was called Otowaka-maru. And the two brothers grew up\ntogether.\n\nWhen Shuntoku became sixteen years old, he went to Kyoto, to the\ntemple of Tenjin-Sama, to make offerings to the god.\n\nThere he saw a thousand people going to the temple, and a\nthousand returning, and a thousand remaining: there was a\ngathering of three thousand persons(1).\n\nThrough that multitude the youngest daughter of a rich man called\nHagiyama was being carried to the temple in a kago(2). Shuntoku\nalso was traveling in a kago; and the two kago moved side by side\nalong the way.\n\nGazing on the girl, Shuntoku fell in love with her. And the two\nexchanged looks and letters of love.\n\nAll this was told to the stepmother of Shuntoku by a servant that\nwas a flatterer.\n\n\nThen the stepmother began to think that should the youth remain\nin his father's home, the store-houses east and west, and the\ngranaries north and south, and the house that stood in the midst,\ncould never belong to Otowaka-maru.\n\nTherefore she devised an evil thing, and spoke to her husband,\nsaying, \"Sir, my lord, may I have your honored permission to be\nfree for seven days from the duties of the household?\"\n\nHer husband answered, \"Yes, surely; but what is it that you wish\nto do for seven days?\" She said to him: \"Before being wedded to\nmy lord, I made a vow to the August Deity of Kiyomidzu; and now I\ndesire to go to the temple to fulfill that vow.\"\n\nSaid the master: \"That is well. But which of the man servants or\nmaid servants would you wish to go with you?\" Then she made\nreply: \"Neither man servant nor maid servant do I require. I wish\nto go all alone.\"\n\nAnd without paying heed to any advice about her journey, she\ndeparted from the house, and made great haste to Kyoto.\n\n\nReaching the quarter Sanjo in the city of Kyoto, she asked the\nway to the street Kajiyamachi, which is the Street of the Smiths.\nAnd finding it, she saw three smithies side by side.\n\nGoing to the middle one, she greeted the smith, and asked him:\n\"Sir smith, can you make some fine small work in iron?\" And he\nanswered: \"Ay, lady, that I can.\"\n\nThen she said: \"Make me, I pray you, nine and forty nails without\nheads.\" But he answered: \"I am of the seventh generation of a\nfamily of smiths; yet never did I hear till now of nails without\nheads, and such an order I cannot take. It were better that you\nshould ask elsewhere.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said she, \"since I came first to you, I do not want to go\nelsewhere. Make them for me, I pray, sir smith.\" He answered: \"Of\na truth, if I make such nails, I must be paid a thousand ryo(3).\"\n\nShe replied to him: \"If you make them all for me, I care nothing\nwhether you desire one thousand or two thousand ryo. Make them, I\nbeseech you, sir smith.\" So the smith could not well refuse to\nmake the nails.\n\nHe arranged all things rightly to honor the God of the\nBellows(4). Then taking up his first hammer, he recited the\nKongo-Sutra(5); taking up his second, he recited the\nKwannon-Sutra; taking up his third, he recited the\nAmida-Sutra,--because he feared those nails might be used for a\nwicked purpose.\n\nThus in sorrow he finished the nails. Then was the woman much\npleased. And receiving the nails in her left hand, she paid the\nmoney to the smith with her right, and bade him farewell, and\nwent upon her way.\n\nWhen she was gone, then the smith thought: \"Surely I have in gold\nkoban(6) the sum of a thousand ryo. But this life of ours is only\nlike the resting-place of a traveler journeying, and I must\nshow to others some pity and kindness. To those who are cold I\nwill give clothing, and to those who are hungry I will give\nfood.\"\n\nAnd by announcing his intention in writings(7) set up at the\nboundaries of provinces and at the limits of villages, he was\nable to show his benevolence to many people.\n\n\nOn her way the woman stopped at the house of a painter, and asked\nthe painter to paint for her a picture.\n\nAnd the painter questioned her, sayings \"Shall I paint you the\npicture of a very old plum-tree, or of an ancient pine?\"\n\nShe said to him; \"No: I want neither the picture of an old\nplum-tree nor of an ancient pine. I want the picture of a boy of\nsixteen years, having a stature of five feet, and two moles upon\nhis face.\"\n\n\"That,\" said the painter, \"will be an easy thing to paint.\" And\nhe made the picture in a very little time. It was much like\nShuntoku-maru; and the woman rejoiced as she departed.\n\nWith that picture of Shuntoku  she hastened to Kiyomidzu; and she\npasted the picture upon one of the pillars in the rear of the\ntemple.\n\nAnd with forty-seven out of the forty-nine nails she nailed the\npicture to the pillar; and with the two remaining nails she\nnailed the eyes.\n\nThen feeling assured that she had put a curse upon Shuntoku, that\nwicked woman went home. And she said humbly, \"I have returned;\"\nand she pretended to be faithful and true.\n\n(1) These numbers simply indicate a great multitude in the\nlanguage of the people; they have no exact significance.\n\n(2) Kago, a kind of palanquin.\n\n(3) The ancient ryo or tael had a value approximating that of the\ndollar of 100 sen.\n\n(4) Fuigo Sama, deity of smiths.\n\n(5) \"Diamond Sutra.\"\n\n(6) Koban, a gold coin. There were koban of a great many curious\nshapes and designs. The most common form was a flat or oval disk,\nstamped with Chinese characters. Some koban were fully five\ninches in length by four in width.\n\n(7) Public announcements are usually written upon small wooden\ntablets attached to a post; and in the country such announcements\nare still set up just as suggested in the ballad.\n\n\nNow three or four months after the stepmother of Shuntoku had\nthus invoked evil upon him he became very sick. Then that\nstepmother secretly rejoiced.\n\nAnd she spoke cunningly to Nobuyoshi, her husband, saying: \"Sir,\nmy lord, this sickness of Shuntoku seems to be a very bad\nsickness; and it is difficult to keep one having such sickness in\nthe house of a rich man.\"\n\nThen Nobuyoshi was much surprised, and sorrowed greatly; but,\nthinking to himself that indeed it could not be helped, he called\nShuntoku to him, and said:--\n\n\"Son, this sickness which you have seems to be leprosy; and one\nhaving such a sickness cannot continue to dwell in this house.\n\n\"It were best for you, therefore, to make a pilgrimage through\nall the provinces, in the hope that you may be healed by divine\ninfluence.\n\n\"And my storehouses and my granaries I will not give to\nOtowaka-maru, but only to you, Shuntoku; so you must come back to\nus.\"\n\nPoor Shuntoku, not knowing how wicked his stepmother was,\nbesought her in his sad condition, saying: \"Dear mother, I have\nbeen told that I must go forth and wander as a pilgrim.\n\n\"But now I am blind, and I cannot travel without difficulty. I\nshould be content with one meal a day in place of three, and glad\nfor permission to live in a corner of some storeroom or outhouse;\nbut I should like to remain somewhere near my home.\n\n\"Will you not please permit me to stay, if only for a little\ntime? Honored mother, I beseech you, let me stay.\"\n\nBut she answered: \"As this trouble which you now have is only the\nbeginning of the bad disease, it is not possible for me to suffer\nyou to stay. You must go away from the house at once.\"\n\n\nThen Shuntoku was forced out of the house by the servants, and\ninto the yard, sorrowing greatly.\n\nAnd the wicked stepmother, following, cried out: \"As your father\nhas commanded, you must go away at once, Shuntoku.\"\n\nShuntoku answered: \"See, I have not even a traveling-dress. A\npilgrim's gown and leggings I ought to have, and a pilgrim's\nwallet for begging.\"\n\nAt hearing these words, the wicked stepmother was glad; and she\nat once gave him all that he required.\n\nShuntoku received the things, and thanked her, and made ready to\ndepart, even in his piteous state.\n\nHe put on the gown and hung a wooden mamori (charm) upon his\nbreast(1), and he suspended the wallet about his neck. He put on\nhis straw sandals and fastened them tightly, and took a bamboo\nstaff in his hand, and placed a hat of woven rushes upon his\nhead.\n\nAnd saying, \"Farewell, father; farewell, mother,\" poor Shuntoku\nstarted on his journey.\n\nSorrowfully Nobuyoshi accompanied his son a part of the way,\nsaying: \"It cannot be helped, Shuntoku. But if, through the\ndivine favor of those august deities to whom that charm is\ndedicated, your disease should become cured, then come back to us\nat once, my son.\"\n\nHearing from his father these kind words of farewell, Shuntoku\nfelt much happier, and covering his face with the great rush hat,\nso as not to be known to the neighbors, he went on alone.\n\nBut in a little while, finding his limbs so weak that he was\nafraid he could not go far, and feeling his heart always drawn\nback toward his home, so that he could not help often stopping\nand turning his face thither, he became sad again.\n\n(1) See Professor Chamberlain's \"Notes on some Minor Japanese\nReligious Practices,\" for full details of pilgrimages and pilgrim\ncostumes, in Journal of the Anthropological Institute (1898). The\npaper is excellently illustrated.\n\n\nSince it would have been difficult for him to enter any dwelling,\nhe had often to sleep under pine-trees or in the forests; but\nsometimes he was lucky enough to find shelter in some wayside\nshrine containing images of the Buddhas.\n\nAnd once in the darkness of the morning, before the breaking of\nthe day, in the hour when the crows first begin to fly abroad and\ncry, the dead mother of Shuntoku came to him in a dream.\n\nAnd she said to him: \"Son, your affliction has been caused by the\nwitchcraft of your wicked stepmother. Go now to the divinity of\nKiyomidzu, and beseech the goddess that you may be healed.\"\n\nShuntoku arose, wondering, and took his way toward the city of Kyoto,\ntoward the temple of Kiyomidzu.\n\nOne day, as he traveled, he went to the gate of the house of a\nrich man named Hagiyama, crying out loudly: \"Alms! alms!\"\n\nThen a maid servant of the house, hearing the cry, came out and\ngave him food, and laughed aloud, saying: \"Who could help\nlaughing at the idea of trying to give anything to so comical a\npilgrim?\"\n\nShuntoku asked: \"Why do you laugh? I am the son of a rich and\nwell-famed man, Nobuyoshi of Kawachi. But because of a\nmalediction invoked upon me by my wicked stepmother, I have\nbecome as you see me.\"\n\nThen Otohime, a daughter of that family, hearing the voices, came\nout, and asked the maid: \"Why did you laugh?\"\n\nThe servant answered: \"Oh, my lady, there was a blind man from\nKawachi, who seemed about twenty years old, clinging to the\npillar of the gate, and loudly crying, 'Alms! alms.'\n\n\"So I tried to give him some clean rice upon a tray; but when I\nheld out the tray toward his right hand, he advanced his left;\nand when I held out the tray toward his left hand, he advanced\nhis right: that was the reason I could not help laughing.\"\n\nHearing the maid explaining thus to the young lady, the blind man\nbecame angry, and said: \"You have no right to despise strangers.\nI am the son of a rich and well-famed man in Kawachi, and I am\ncalled Shuntoku-maru.\"\n\nThen the daughter of that house, Otohime, suddenly remembering\nhim, also became quite angry, and said to the servant: \"You must\nnot laugh rudely. Laughing at others to-day, you might be laughed\nat yourself to-morrow.\"\n\n\nBut Otohime had been so startled that she could not help\ntrembling a little, and, retiring to her room, she suddenly\nfainted away.\n\nThen in the house all was confusion, and a doctor was summoned in\ngreat haste. But the girl, being quite unable to take any\nmedicine, only became weaker and weaker.\n\nThen many famous physicians were sent for; and they consulted\ntogether about Otohime; and they decided at last that her\nsickness had been caused only by some sudden sorrow.\n\nSo the mother said to her sick daughter \"Tell me, without\nconcealment, if you have any secret grief; and if there be\nanything you want, whatever it be, I will try to get it for you.\"\n\nOtohime replied: \"I am very much ashamed; but I shall tell you\nwhat I wish.\n\n\"The blind man who came here the other day was the son of a rich\nand well-famed citizen of Kawachi, called Nobuyoshi.\n\n\"At the time of the festival of Tenjin at Kitano in Kyoto, I met\nthat young man there, on my way to the temple; and we then\nexchanged letters of love, pledging ourselves to each other.\n\n\"And therefore I very much wish that I may be allowed to travel\nin search of him, until I find him, wherever he may be.\"\n\nThe mother kindly made answer: \"That, indeed, will be well. If\nyou wish for a kago, you may have one; or if you would like to\nhave a horse, you can have one.\n\n\"You can choose any servant you like to accompany you, and I can\nlet you have as many koban as you desire.\"\n\nOtohime answered: \"Neither horse nor kago do I need, nor any\nservant; I need only the dress of a pilgrim,--leggings and\ngown,--and a mendicant's wallet.\"\n\nFor Otohime held it her duty to set out by herself all alone,\njust as Shuntoku had done.\n\nSo she left home, saying farewell to her parents, with eyes full\nof tears: scarcely could she find voice to utter the word\n\"good-by.\"\n\n\nOver mountains and mountains she passed, and again over\nmountains; hearing only the cries of wild deer and the sound of\ntorrent-water.\n\nSometimes she would lose her way; sometimes she would pursue\nalone a steep and difficult path; always she journeyed sorrowing.\n\nAt last she saw before her--far, far away--the pine-tree called\nKawama-matsu, and the two rocks called Ota(1); and when she saw\nthose rocks, she thought of Shuntoku with love and hope.\n\nHastening on, she met five or six persona going to Kumano; and\nshe asked them: \"Have you not met on your way a blind youth,\nabout sixteen years old?\"\n\nThey made answer: \"No, not yet; but should we meet him anywhere,\nwe will tell him whatever you wish.\"\n\nThis reply greatly disappointed Otohime; and she began to think\nthat all her efforts to find her lover might be in vain; and she\nbecame very sad.\n\nAt last she became so sad that she resolved not to try to find\nhim in this world anymore, but to drown herself at once in the\npool of Sawara, that she might be able to meet him in a future\nstate.\n\nShe hurried there as fast as she could. And when she reached the\npond, she fixed her pilgrim's staff in the ground, and hung her\nouter robe on a pine-tree, and threw away her wallet, and,\nloosening her hair, arranged it in the style called Shimada(2).\n\nThen, having filled her sleeves with stones, she was about to\nleap into the water, when there appeared suddenly before her a\nvenerable man of seemingly not less than eighty years, robed all\nin white, and bearing a tablet in his hand.\n\nAnd the aged man said to her: \"Be not thus in haste to die,\nOtohime! Shuntoku whom you seek is at Kiyomidzu San: go thither\nand meet him.\"\n\nThese were, indeed, the happiest tidings she could have desired,\nand she became at once very happy. And she knew she had thus been\nsaved by the august favor of her guardian deity, and that it was\nthe god himself who had spoken to her those words.\n\nSo she cast away the stones she had put into her sleeves, and\ndonned again the outer robe she had taken off, and rearranged her\nhair, and took her way in all haste to the temple of Kiyomidzu.\n\n(1) One meaning of \"Ota\" in Japanese is \"has met\" or \"have met.\"\n\n(2) The simple style in which the hair of dead woman is arranged.\nSee chapter \"Of Women's Hair,\" in Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan,\nvol. ii.\n\nAt last she reached the temple. She ascended the three lower\nsteps, and glancing beneath a porch she saw her lover, Shuntoku,\nlying there asleep, covered with a straw mat; and she called to\nhim, \"Moshi! Moshi!(1)\"\n\nShuntoku, thus being suddenly awakened, seized his staff, which\nwas lying by his side, and cried out, \"Every day the children of\nthis neighborhood come here and annoy me, because I am blind!\"\n\nOtohime hearing these words, and feeling great sorrow, approached\nand laid her hands on her poor lover, and said to him:--\n\n\n\"I am not one of those bad, mischievous children; I am the\ndaughter of the wealthy Hagiyama. And because I promised myself\nto you at the festival of Kitano Tenjin in Kyoto, I have come\nhere to see you.\"\n\nAstonished at hearing the voice of his sweet-heart, Shuntoku rose\nup quickly, and cried out: \"Oh! are you really Otohime? It is a\nlong time since we last met--but this is so strange! Is it not\nall a lie?\"\n\nAnd then, stroking each other, they could only cry, instead of\nspeaking.\n\nBut presently Shuntoku, giving way to the excitement of his\ngrief, cried out to Otohime: \"A malediction has been laid upon me\nby my stepmother, and my appearance has been changed, as you see.\n\n\"Therefore never can I be united to you as your husband. Even as I now\nam, so must I remain until I fester to death.\n\n\"And so you must go back home at once, and live in happiness and\nsplendor.\"\n\nBut she answered in great sorrow: \"Never! Are you really in\nearnest? Are you truly in your right senses?\n\n\"No, no! I have disguised myself thus only because I loved you\nenough even to give my life for you.\n\n\"And now I will never leave you, no matter what may become of me\nin the future.\"\n\nShuntoku was comforted by these words; but he was also filled\nwith pity for her, so that he wept, without being able to speak a\nword.\n\nThen she said to him: \"Since your wicked stepmother bewitched you\nonly because you were rich, I am not afraid to revenge you by\nbewitching her also; for I, too, am the child of a rich man.\"\n\nAnd then, with her whole heart, she spoke thus to the divinity\nwithin the temple:--\"For the space of seven days and seven nights\nI shall remain fasting in this temple, to prove my vow; and if\nyou have any truth and pity, I beseech you to save us.\n\n\"For so great a building as this a thatched roof is not the\nproper roof. I will re-roof it with feathers of little birds; and\nthe ridge of the roof I will cover with thigh-feathers of\nfalcons.\n\n\"This torii and these lanterns of stone are ugly: I will erect a\ntorii of gold; and I will make a thousand lamps of gold and a\nthousand of silver, and every evening I will light them.\n\n\"In so large a garden as this there should be trees. I will plant\na thousand hinoki, a thousand sugi, a thousand karamatsu.\n\n\"But if Shuntoku should not be healed by reason of this vow, then\nhe and I will drown ourselves together in yonder lotos-pond.\n\n\"And after our death, taking the form of two great serpents, we\nwill torment all who come to worship at this temple, and bar the\nway against pilgrims.\"\n\n(1) An exclamation uttered to call the attention of another to\nthe presence of the speaker,--from the respectful verb \"to say.\"\nOur colloquial \"say\" does not give the proper meaning. Our\n\"please\" comes nearer to it.\n\nNow, strange to say, on the night of the seventh day after she\nhad vowed this vow, there came to her in a dream Kwannon-Sama who\nsaid to her:\n\n\"The prayer which you prayed I shall grant.\"\n\n\nForthwith Otohime awoke, and told her dream to Shuntoku, and they\nboth wondered. They arose, and went down to the river together,\nand washed themselves, and worshiped the goddess.\n\nThen, strange to say, the eyes of blind Shuntoku were fully\nopened, and his clear sight came back to him, and the disease\npassed away from him. And both wept because of the greatness of\ntheir joy.\n\nTogether they sought an inn, and there laid aside their\npilgrim-dresses, and put on fresh robes, and hired kago and\ncarriers to bear them home.\n\n\nReaching the house of his father, Shuntoku cried out: \"Honored\nparents, I have returned to you! By virtue of the written charm\nupon the sacred tablet, I have been healed of my sickness, as you\nmay see. Is all well with you, honored parents?\"\n\nAnd Shuntoku's father, hearing, ran out and cried: \"Oh! how much\ntroubled I have been for your sake!\n\n\"Never for one moment could I cease to think of you; but now--how\nglad I am to see you, and the bride you have brought with you!\"\nAnd all rejoiced together.\n\nBut, on the other hand, it was very strange that the wicked\nstepmother at the same moment became suddenly blind, and that her\nfingers and her toes began to rot, so that she was in great\ntorment.\n\nThen the bride and the bridegroom said to that wicked stepmother:\n\"Lo! the leprosy has come upon you!\n\n\"We cannot keep a leper in the house of a rich man. Please to go\naway at once!\n\n\"We shall give you a pilgrim's gown and leggings, a rush hat, and\na staff; for we have all these things ready here.\"\n\nThen the wicked stepmother knew that even to save her from death\nit could not be helped, because she herself had done so wicked a\nthing before. Shuntoku and his wife were very glad; how rejoiced\nthey were!\n\nThe stepmother prayed them to allow her only one small meal a\nday,--just as Shuntoku had done; but Otohime said to the stricken\nwoman: \"We cannot keep you here,--not even in the corner of an\nouthouse. Go away at once!\"\n\nAlso Nobuyoshi said to his wicked wife: \"What do you mean by\nremaining here? How long do you require to go?\"\n\nAnd he drove her out, and she could not help herself, and she\nwent away crying, and striving to hide her face from the sight of\nthe neighbors.\n\nOtowaka led his blind mother by the hand; and together they went\nto Kyoto and to the temple of Kiyomidzu.\n\nWhen they got there they ascended three of the temple steps, and\nknelt down, and prayed the goddess, saying: \"Give us power to\ncast another malediction!\"\n\nBut the goddess suddenly appeared before them, and said: \"Were it\na good thing that you pray for, I would grant your prayer; but\nwith an evil matter I will have no more to do.\n\n\"If you must die, then die there! And after your death you shall\nbe sent to hell, and there put into the bottom of an iron caldron\nto be boiled.\"\n\n_This is the end of the Story of Shuntoku. With a jubilant tap of\nthe fan we finish so! Joyfully!--joyfully!--joyfully!_\n\n\n\nTHE BALLAD OF OGURI-HANGWAN\n\n_To tell every word of the tale,--this is the story of\nOguri-Hangwan_.\n\n\nI. THE BIRTH\n\nThe famed Takakura Dainagon, whose other name was Kane-ie, was so\nrich that he had treasure-houses in every direction.\n\nHe owned one precious stone that had power over fire, and another\nthat had power over water.\n\nHe also had the claws of a tiger, extracted from the paws of the\nliving animal; he had the horns of a colt; and he likewise owned\neven a musk-cat (jako-neko)(1).\n\nOf all that a man might have in this world, he wanted nothing\nexcept an heir, and he had no other cause for sorrow.\n\nA trusted servant in his house named Ikenoshoji said at last to\nhim these words:--\n\n\"Seeing that the Buddhist deity Tamon-Ten, enshrined upon the\nholy mountain of Kurama, is famed for his divine favor far and\nnear, I respectfully entreat you to go to that temple and make\nprayer to him; for then your wish will surely be fulfilled.\"\n\nTo this the master agreed, and at once began to make preparation\nfor a journey to the temple.\n\nAs he traveled with great speed he reached the temple very soon;\nand there, having purified his body by pouring water over it, he\nprayed with all his heart for an heir.\n\nAnd during three days and three nights he abstained from food of\nevery sort. But all seemed in vain.\n\nWherefore the lord, despairing because of the silence of the god,\nresolved to perform _harakiri_ in the temple, and so to defile\nthe sacred building.\n\nMoreover, he resolved that his spirit, after his death, should\nhaunt the mountain of Kurama, to deter and terrify all pilgrims\nupon the nine-mile path of the mountain.\n\nThe delay of even one moment would have been fatal; but good\nIkenoshoji came running to the place just in time, and prevented\nthe seppuku(2).\n\n\"Oh, my lord!\" the retainer cried, \"you are surely too hasty in\nyour resolve to die.\n\n\"Rather first suffer me to try my fortune, and see if I may not\nbe able to offer up prayer for your sake with more success.\"\n\nThen after having twenty-one times purified his body,--seven\ntimes washing with hot water, seven times with cold, and yet\nanother seven times washing himself with a bundle of\nbamboo-grass,--he thus prayed to the god:--\n\n\"If to my lord an heir be given by the divine favor, then I vow\nthat I will make offering of paving-blocks of bronze wherewith to\npave this temple court.\n\n\"Also of lanterns of bronze to stand in rows without the temple,\nand of plating of pure gold and pure silver to cover all the\npillars within!\"\n\nAnd upon the third of the three nights which he passed in prayer\nbefore the god, Tamon-Ten revealed himself to the pious\nIkenoshoji and said to him:--\n\n\"Earnestly wishing to grant your petition, I sought far and near\nfor a fitting heir,--even as far as Tenjiku (India) and Kara\n(China).\n\n\"But though human beings are numerous as the stars in the sky or\nthe countless pebbles upon the shore, I was grieved that I could\nnot find of the seed of man one heir that might well be given to\nyour master.\n\n\"And at last, knowing not what else to do, I took away by stealth\n[the spirit?] of one of the eight children whose father was one\nof the Shi-Tenno(3), residing on the peak Ari-ari, far among the\nDandoku mountains. And that child I will give to become the heir\nof your master.\"\n\nHaving thus spoken, the deity retired within the innermost\nshrine. Then Ikenoshoji, starting from his real dream, nine times\nprostrated himself before the god, and hastened to the dwelling\nof his master.\n\nErelong the wife of Takakura Dainagon found herself with child;\nand after the ten(4) happy months she bore a son with painless\nlabor.\n\nIt was strange that the infant had upon his forehead, marked\nquite plainly and naturally, the Chinese character for \"rice.\"\n\nAnd it was yet more strange to find that in his eyes four\nBuddhas(5) were reflected.\n\nIkenoshoji and the parents rejoiced; and the name Ari-waka (Young\nAri) was given the child--after the name of the mountain Ari-ari\n--on the third day after the birth.\n\n(1)\"Musk-rat\" is the translation given by some dictionaries.\n\"Musk-deer\" was suggested by my translator. But as some\nmythological animal is evidently meant, I thought it better to\ntranslate the word literally.\n\n(2) The Chinese term for harakiri. It is thought to be the more\nrefined word.\n\n(3) Shi-Tenno: the Four Deva Kings of Buddhism, who  guard the\nFour Quarters of the World.\n\n(4) That is, ten by the ancient native manner of reckoning time.\n\n(5) Shitai-no-mi-Hotoke: literally, a four-bodied-august Buddha.\nThe image in the eye is called the Buddha: the idea here\nexpressed seems to be that the eyes of the child reflected four\ninstead of two images. Children of supernatural beings were\npopularly said to have double pupils. But I am giving only a\npopular explanation of the term.\n\n\nII. THE BANISHMENT\n\nVery quickly the child grew; and when he became fifteen, the\nreigning Emperor gave him the name and title of Oguri-Hangwan\nKane-uji.\n\nWhen he reached manhood his father resolved to get him a bride.\n\nSo the Dainagon looked upon all the daughters of the ministers\nand high officials, but he found none that he thought worthy to\nbecome the wife of his son.\n\nBut the young Hangwan, learning that he himself had been a gift\nto his parents from Tamon-Ten, resolved to pray to that deity for\na spouse; and he hastened to the temple of the divinity,\naccompanied by Ikenoshoji.\n\nThere they washed their hands and rinsed their mouths, and\nremained three nights without sleep, passing all the time in\nreligious exercises.\n\nBut as they had no companions, the young prince at last felt very\nlonesome, and began to play on his flute, made of the root of the\nbamboo.\n\nSeemingly charmed by these sweet sounds, the great serpent that\nlived in the temple pond came to the entrance of the\ntemple,--transforming its fearful shape into the likeness of a\nlovely female attendant of the Imperial Court,--and fondly\nlistened to the melody.\n\nThen Kane-uji thought he saw before him the very lady he desired\nfor a wife. And thinking also that she was the one chosen for him\nby the deity, he placed the beautiful being in a palanquin and\nreturned to his home.\n\nBut no sooner had this happened than a fearful storm burst upon\nthe capital, followed by a great flood; and the flood and the\nstorm both lasted for seven days and seven nights.\n\nThe Emperor was troubled greatly by these omens; and he sent for\nthe astrologers, that they might explain the causes thereof.\n\nThey said in answer to the questions asked of them that the\nterrible weather was caused only by the anger of the male\nserpent, seeking vengeance for the loss of its mate,--which was\nnone other than the fair woman that Kane-uji had brought back\nwith him.\n\nWhereupon the Emperor commanded that Kane-uji should be banished\nto the province of Hitachi, and that the transformed female\nserpent should at once be taken back to the pond upon the\nmountain of Kurama.\n\nAnd being thus compelled by imperial order to depart, Kane-uji\nwent away to the province of Hitachi, followed only by his\nfaithful retainer, Ikenoshoji.\n\n\nIII. THE EXCHANGE OF LETTERS\n\nOnly a little while after the banishment of Kane-uji, a traveling\nmerchant, seeking to sell his wares, visited the house of the\nexiled prince at Hitachi.\n\nAnd being asked by the Hangwan where he lived, the merchant made\nanswer, saying:--\"I live in Kyoto, in the street called\nMuromachi, and my name is Goto Sayemon.\n\n\"My stock consists of goods of one thousand and eight different\nkinds which I send to China, of one thousand and eight kinds\nwhich I send to India, and yet another thousand and eight kinds\nwhich I sell only in Japan.\n\n\"So that my whole stock consists of three thousand and\ntwenty-four different kinds of goods.\n\n\"Concerning the countries to which I have already been, I may\nanswer that I made three voyages to India and three to China and\nthis is my seventh journey to this part of Japan.\"\n\nHaving heard these things, Oguri-Hangwan asked the merchant\nwhether he knew of any young girl who would make a worthy wife,\nsince he, the prince, being still unmarried, desired to find such\na girl.\n\nThen said Sayemon: \"In the province of Sagami, to the west of us,\nthere lives a rich man called Tokoyama Choja, who has eight sons.\n\n\"Long he lamented that he had no daughter, and he long prayed for\na daughter to the August Sun.\n\n\"And a daughter was given him; and after her birth, her parents\nthought it behoved them to give her a higher rank than their own,\nbecause her birth had come to pass through the divine influence\nof the August Heaven-Shining Deity; so they built for her a\nseparate dwelling.\n\n\"She is, in very truth, superior to all other Japanese women; nor\ncan I think of any other person in every manner worthy of you.\"\n\nThis story much pleased Kane-uji; and he at once asked Sayemon to\nact the part of match-maker(1) for him; and Sayemon promised to\ndo everything in his power to fulfill the wish of the Hangwan.\n\nThen Kane-uji called for inkstone and writing-brush, and wrote a\nlove-letter, and tied it up with such a knot as love-letters are\ntied with.\n\nAnd he gave it to the merchant to be delivered to the lady; and\nhe gave him also, in reward for his services, one hundred golden\nryo.\n\nSayemon again and again prostrated himself in thanks; and he put\nthe letter into the box which he always carried with him. And\nthen he lifted the box upon his back, and bade the prince\nfare-well.\n\nNow, although the journey from Hitachi to Sagami is commonly a\njourney of seven days, the merchant arrived there at noon upon\nthe third day, having traveled in all haste, night and day\ntogether, without stopping.\n\nAnd he went to the building called Inui-no-Goshyo, which had been\nbuilt by the rich Yokoyama for the sake of his only daughter,\nTerute-Hime, in the district of Soba, in the province of Sagami;\nand he asked permission to enter therein.\n\nBut the stern gate-keepers bade him go away, announcing that the\ndwelling was the dwelling of Terute-Hime, daughter of the famed\nChoja Yokoyama, and that no person of the male sex whosoever\ncould be permitted to enter; and furthermore, that guards had\nbeen appointed to guard the palace--ten by night and ten by\nday--with extreme caution and severity.\n\nBut the merchant told the gate-keepers that he was Goto Sayemon,\nof the street called Muromachi, in the city of Kyoto; that he was\na well-famed merchant there, and was by the people called\nSendanya; that he had thrice been to India and thrice to China,\nand was now upon his seventh return journey to the great country\nof the Rising Sun.\n\nAnd he said also to them: \"Into all the palaces of Nihon, save\nthis one only, I have been freely admitted; so I shall be deeply\ngrateful to you if you permit me to enter.\"\n\nThus saying, he produced many rolls of silk, and presented them\nto the gate-keepers; and their cupidity made them blind; and the\nmerchant, without more difficulty, entered, rejoicing.\n\nThrough the great outer gate he passed, and over a bridge, and\nthen found himself in front of the chambers of the female\nattendants of the superior class.\n\nAnd he called out with a very loud voice: \"O my ladies, all\nthings that you may require I have here with me!\n\n\"I have all _jorogata-no-meshi-dogu_; I have hair-combs and\nneedles and tweezers; I have _tategami_, and combs of silver, and\n_kamoji_ from Nagasaki, and even all kinds of Chinese mirrors!\"\n\nWhereupon the ladies, delighted with the idea of seeing these\nthings, suffered the merchant to enter their apartment, which he\npresently made to look like a shop for the sale of female toilet\narticles.\n\n(1) Nakodo. The profession of nakodo exists; but any person who\narranges marriages for a consideration is for the time being\ncalled the nakodo.\n\n\nBut while making bargains and selling very quickly, Sayemon did\nnot lose the good chance offered him; and taking from his box the\nlove-letter which had been confided to him, he said to the\nladies:--\n\n\"This letter, if I remember rightly, I picked up in some town in\nHitachi, and I shall be very glad if you will accept it,--either\nto use it for a model if it be written beautifully, or to laugh\nat if it prove to have been written awkwardly.\"\n\nThen the chief among the maids, receiving the letter, tried to\nread the writing upon the envelope: _\"Tsuki ni hoshi--ame ni\narare ga--kori kana,_\"--\n\nWhich signified, \"Moon and stars--rain and hail--make ice.\" But\nshe could not read the riddle of the mysterious words.\n\nThe other ladies, who were also unable to guess the meaning of\nthe words, could not but laugh; and they laughed so shrilly that\nthe Princess Terute heard, and came among them, fully robed, and\nwearing a veil over her night-black hair.\n\nAnd the bamboo-screen having been rolled up before her,\nTerute-Hime asked: \"What is the cause of all this laughing? If\nthere be anything amusing, I wish that you will let me share in\nthe amusement.\"\n\nThe maids then answered, saying: \"We were laughing only at our\nbeing unable to read a letter which this merchant from the\ncapital says that he picked up in some street. And here is the\nletter: even the address upon it is a riddle to us.\"\n\nAnd the letter, having been laid upon an open crimson fan, was\nproperly presented to the princess, who received it, and admired\nthe beauty of the writing, and said:--\n\n\"Never have I seen so beautiful a hand as this: it is like the\nwriting of Kobodaishi himself, or of Monju Bosatsu.\n\n\"Perhaps the writer is one of those princes of the Ichijo, or\nNijo, or Sanjo families, all famed for their skill in writing.\n\n\"Or, if this guess of mine be wrong, then I should say that these\ncharacters have certainly been written by Oguri-Hangwan Kane-uji,\nnow so famed in the province of Hitachi.... I shall read the\nletter for you.\"\n\nThen the envelope was removed; and the first phrase she read was\n_Fuji no yama_ (the Mountain of Fuji), which she interpreted as\nsignifying loftiness of rank. And then she met with such phrases\nas these:--\n\n_Kiyomidzu kosaka_ (the name of a place); _arare ni ozasa_ (hail\non the leaves of the bamboo-grass); _itaya ni arare_ (hail\nfollowing upon a wooden roof);\n\n_Tamato ni kori_ (ice in the sleeve); _nonaka ni shimidzu_ (pure\nwater running through a moor); _koike ni makomo_ (rushes in a\nlittle pond);\n\n_Inoba ni tsuyu_ (dew on the leaves of the taro); _shakunaga obi_\n(a very long girdle); _shika ni momiji_ (deer and maple-trees);\n\n_Futamata-gawa_ (a forked river); _hoso tanigawa-ni marukibashi_\n(a round log laid over a little stream for a bridge); _tsurunashi\nyumi ni hanuki dori_ (a stringless bow, and a wingless bird).\n\nAnd then she understood that the characters signified:--\n\n_Maireba au_--they would meet, for he would call upon her.\n_Arare nai_--then they would not be separated. _Korobi au_--they\nwould repose together.\n\nAnd the meaning of the rest was thus:--\n\n\"This letter should be opened within the sleeve, so that others\nmay know nothing of it. Keep the secret in your own bosom.\n\n\"You must yield to me even as the rush bends to the wind. I am\nearnest to serve you in all things.\n\n\"We shall surely be united at last, whatever chance may separate\nus at the beginning. I wish for you even as the stag for its mate\nin the autumn.\n\n\"Even though long kept apart we shall meet, as meet the waters of\na river divided in its upper course into two branches.\n\n\"Divine, I pray you, the meaning of this letter, and preserve it.\nI hope for a fortunate answer. Thinking of Terute-Hime, I feel as\nthough I could fly.\"\n\nAnd the Princess Terute found at the end of the letter the name\nof him who wrote it,--Oguri-Hangwan Kane-uji himself,--together\nwith her own name, as being written to her.\n\nThen she felt greatly troubled, because she had not at first\nsupposed that the letter was addressed to her, and had, without\nthinking, read it aloud to the female attendants.\n\nFor she well knew that her father would quickly kill her in a\nmost cruel manner, should the iron-hearted Choja(1) come to know\nthe truth.\n\nWherefore, through fear of being mingled with the earth of the\nmoor Uwanogahara,--fitting place for a father in wrath to slay\nhis daughter,--she set the end of the letter between her teeth,\nand rent it to pieces, and withdrew to the inner apartment.\n\n(1) Choja is not a proper name: it signifies really a wealthy man\nonly, like the French terms \"un richard,\" \"un riche.\" But it is\nused almost like a proper name in the country still; the richest\nman in the place, usually a person of influence, being often\nreferred to as \"the Choja.\"\n\n\nBut the merchant, knowing that he could not go back to Hitachi\nwithout bearing some reply, resolved to obtain one by cunning.\n\nWherefore he hurried after the princess even into her innermost\napartment, without so much as waiting to remove his sandals, and\nhe cried out loudly:--\"Oh, my princess! I have been taught that\nwritten characters were invented in India by Monju Bosatsu, and\nin Japan by Kobodaishi.\n\n\"And is it not like tearing the hands of Kobodaishi, thus to tear\na letter written with characters?\n\n\"Know you not that a woman is less pure than a man? Wherefore,\nthen, do you, born a woman, thus presume to tear a letter?\n\n\"Now, if you refuse to write a reply, I shall call upon all the\ngods; I shall announce to them this unwomanly act, and I shall\ninvoke their malediction upon you!\"\n\nAnd with these words he took from the box which he always carried\nwith him a Buddhist rosary; and he began to twist it about with\nan awful appearance of anger.\n\nThen the Princess Terute, terrified and grieved, prayed him to\ncease his invocations, and promised that she would write an\nanswer at once.\n\nSo her answer was quickly written, and given to the merchant, who\nwas overjoyed by his success, and speedily departed for Hitachi,\ncarrying his box upon his back.\n\n\nIV.  HOW KANE-UJI BECAME A BRIDEGROOM WITHOUT HIS FATHER-IN-LAW'S\nCONSENT\n\nTraveling with great speed, the nakodo quickly arrived at the\ndwelling of the Hangwan, and gave the letter to the master, who\nremoved the cover with hands that trembled for joy.\n\nVery, very short the answer was,--only these words: _Oki naka\nbune_, \"a boat floating in the offing.\"\n\nBut Kane-uji guessed the meaning to be: \"As fortunes and\nmisfortunes are common to all, be not afraid, and try to come\nunseen.\"\n\nTherewith he summoned Ikenoshoji, and bade him make all needful\npreparation for a rapid journey. Goto Sayemon consented to serve\nas guide.\n\nHe accompanied them; and when they reached the district of Soba,\nand were approaching the house of the princess, the guide said to\nthe prince:--\n\n\"That house before us, with the black gate, is the dwelling of\nthe far-famed Yokoyama Choja; and that other house, to the\nnorthward of it, having a red gate, is the residence of the\nflower-fair Terute.\n\n\"Be prudent in all things, and you will succeed.\" And with these\nwords, the guide disappeared.\n\nAccompanied by his faithful retainer, the Hangwan approached the\nred gate.\n\nBoth attempted to enter, when the gate-keeper sought to prevent\nthem; declaring they were much too bold to seek to enter the\ndwelling of Terute-Hime, only daughter of the renowned Yokoyama\nChoja,--the sacred child begotten through the favor of the deity\nof the Sun.\n\n\"You do but right to speak thus,\" the retainer made reply. \"But\nyou must learn that we are officers from the city in search of a\nfugitive.\n\n\"And it is just because all males are prohibited from entering\nthis dwelling that a search therein must be made.\"\n\nThen the guards, amazed, suffered them to pass, and saw the\nsupposed officers of justice enter the court, and many of the\nladies in waiting come forth to welcome them as guests.\n\nAnd the Lady Terute, marvelously pleased by the coming of the\nwriter of that love-letter, appeared before her wooer, robed in\nher robes of ceremony, with a veil about her shoulders.\n\nKane-uji was also much delighted at being thus welcomed by the\nbeautiful maiden. And the wedding ceremony was at once performed,\nto the great joy of both, and was followed by a great wine feast.\n\nSo great was the mirth, and so joyful were all, that the\nfollowers of the prince and the maids of the princess danced\ntogether, and together made music.\n\nAnd Oguri-Hangwan himself produced his flute, made of the root of\na bamboo, and began to play upon it sweetly.\n\nThen the father of Terute, hearing all this joyous din in the\nhouse of his daughter, wondered greatly what the cause might be.\n\nBut when he had been told how the Hangwan had become the\nbridegroom of his daughter without his consent, the Choja grew\nwondrous angry, and in secret devised a scheme of revenge.\n\n\nV. THE POISONING\n\nThe next day Yokoyama sent to Prince Kane-uji a message, inviting\nhim to come to his house, there to perform the wine-drinking\nceremony of greeting each other as father-in-law and son-in-law.\n\nThen the Princess Terute sought to dissuade the Hangwan from\ngoing there, because she had dreamed in the night a dream of ill\nomen.\n\nBut the Hangwan, making light of her fears, went boldly to the\ndwelling of the Choja, followed by his young retainers.\nThen Yokoyama Choja, rejoicing, caused many dishes to be\nprepared, containing all delicacies furnished by the mountains\nand the sea(1), and well entertained the Hangwan.\n\nAt last, when the wine-drinking began to flag, Yokoyama uttered\nthe wish that his guest, the lord Kane-uji, would also furnish\nsome entertainment(2).\n\n\"And what shall it be?\" the Hangwan asked.\n\n\"Truly,\" replied the Choja, \"I am desirous to see you show your\ngreat skill in riding.\"\n\n\"Then I shall ride,\" the prince made answer. And presently the\nhorse called Onikage(3) was led out.\n\nThat horse was so fierce that he did not seem to be a real horse,\nbut rather a demon or a dragon, so that few dared even to\napproach him.\n\nBut the Prince Hangwan Kane-uji at once loosened the chain by\nwhich the horse was fastened, and rode upon him with wondrous\nease.\n\nIn spite of his fierceness, Onikage found himself obliged to do\neverything which his rider wished. All present, Yokoyama and the\nothers, could not speak for astonishment.\n\nBut soon the Choja, taking and setting up a six-folding screen,\nasked to see the prince ride his steed upon the upper edge of the\nscreen.\n\nThe lord Oguri, consenting, rode upon the top of the screen; and\nthen he rode along the top of an upright shoji frame.\n\nThen a chessboard being set out, he rode upon it, making the\nhorse rightly set his hoof upon the squares of the chessboard as\nhe rode.\n\nAnd, lastly, he made the steed balance himself upon the frame of\nan andon(4).\n\nThen Yokoyama was at a loss what to do, and he could only say,\nbowing low to the prince:\n\n\"Truly I am grateful for your entertainment; I am very much\ndelighted.\"\n\nAnd the lord Oguri, having attached Onikage to a cherry-tree in\nthe garden, reentered the apartment.\n\nBut Saburo, the third son of the house, having persuaded his\nfather to kill the Hangwan with poisoned wine, urged the prince\nto drink sake with which there had been mingled the venom of a\nblue centipede and of a blue lizard, and foul water that had long\nstood in the hollow joint of a bamboo.\n\nAnd the Hangwan and his followers, not suspecting the wine had\nbeen poisoned, drank the whole.\n\nSad to say, the poison entered into their viscera and their\nintestines; and all their bones burst asunder by reason of the\nviolence of that poison.\n\n(1) Or, \"with all strange flavors of mountain and sea.\"\n\n(2) The word is really sakana, \"fish.\" It has always been\nthe rule to serve fish with sake; and gradually the word\n\"fish\" became used for any entertainment given during the\nwine-party by guests, such as songs, dances, etc.\n\n(3) Literally, \"Demon-deer-hair.\" The term \"deer-hair\" refers to\ncolor. A less exact translation of the original characters would\nbe \"the demon chestnut\". Kage, \"deer-color\" also means\n\"chestnut.\" A chestnut horse is Kage-no-uma.\n\n(4) A large portable lantern, having a wooden frame and paper\nsides. There are andon of many forms, some remarkably beautiful.\n\n\nTheir lives passed from them quickly as dew in the morning from\nthe grass.\n\nAnd Saburo and his father buried their corpses in the moor\nUwanogahara.\n\n\nVI. CAST ADRIFT\n\nThe cruel Yokoyama thought that it would not do to suffer his\ndaughter to live, after he had thus killed her husband. Therefore\nhe felt obliged to order his faithful servants, Onio and Oniji,\n(1) who were brothers, to take her far out into the sea of\nSagami, and to drown her there.\n\nAnd the two brothers, knowing their master was too stony-hearted\nto be persuaded otherwise, could do nothing but obey. So they\nwent to the unhappy lady, and told her the purpose for which they\nhad been sent.\n\nTerute-Hime was so astonished by her father's cruel decision that\nat first she thought all this was a dream, from which she\nearnestly prayed to be awakened.\n\nAfter a while she said: \"Never in my whole life have I knowingly\ncommitted any crime.... But whatever happens to my own body, I am\nmore anxious than I can say to learn what became of my husband\nafter he visited my father's house.\"\n\n\"Our master,\" answered the two brothers, \"becoming very angry at\nlearning that you two had been wedded without his lawful\npermission, poisoned the young prince, according to a plan\ndevised by your brother Saburo.\"\n\nThen Terute, more and more astonished, invoked, with just cause,\na malediction upon her father for his cruelty.\n\nBut she was not even allowed time to lament her fate; for Onio\nand his brother at once removed her garments, and put her naked\nbody into a roll of rush matting.\n\nWhen this piteous package was carried out of the house at night,\nthe princess and her waiting-maids bade each other their last\nfarewells, with sobs and cries of grief.\n\n(1) Onio, \"the king of devils,\" Oniji, \"the next greatest devil.\"\n\n\nThe brothers Onio and Oniji then rowed far out to sea with their\npitiful burden. But when they found themselves alone, then Oniji\nsaid to Onio that it were better they should try to save their\nyoung mistress.\n\nTo this the elder brother at once agreed without difficulty; and\nboth began to think of some plan to save her.\n\nJust at the same time an empty canoe came near them, drifting\nwith the sea-current.\n\nAt once the lady was placed in it; and the brothers, exclaiming,\n\"That indeed was a fortunate happening,\" bade their mistress\nfarewell, and rowed back to their master.\n\n\nVII. THE LADY YORIHIME\n\nThe canoe bearing poor Terute was tossed about by the waves for\nseven days and seven nights, during which time there was much\nwind and rain. And at last it was discovered by some fishermen\nwho were fishing near Nawoye.\n\nBut they thought that the beautiful woman was certainly the\nspirit that had caused the long storm of many days; and Terute\nmight have been killed by their oars, had not one of the men of\nNawoye taken her under his protection.\n\nNow this man, whose name was Murakimi Dayu, resolved to adopt the\nprincess as his daughter as he had no child of his own to be his\nheir.\n\nSo he took her to his home, and named her Yorihime, and treated\nher so kindly that his wife grew jealous of the adopted daughter,\nand therefore was often cruel to her when the husband was absent.\n\nBut being still more angered to find that Yorihime would not go\naway of her own accord, the evil-hearted woman began to devise\nsome means of getting rid of her forever.\n\nJust at that time the ship of a kidnapper happened to cast anchor\nin the harbor. Needless to say that Yorihime was secretly sold to\nthis dealer in human flesh.\n\n\nVIII. BECOMING A SERVANT\n\nAfter this misfortune, the unhappy princess passed from one\nmaster to another as many as seventy-five times. Her last\npurchaser was one Yorodzuya Chobei, well known as the keeper of a\nlarge joroya(1) in the province of Mino.\n\nWhen Terute-Hime was first brought before this new master, she\nspoke meekly to him, and begged him to excuse her ignorance of\nall refinements and of deportment. And Chobei then asked her to\ntell him all about herself, her native place, and her family.\nBut Terute-Hime thought it would not be wise to mention even the\nname of her native province, lest she might possibly be forced to\nspeak of the poisoning of her husband by her own father.\n\nSo she resolved to answer only that she was born in Hitachi;\nfeeling a sad pleasure in saying that she belonged to the same\nprovince in which the lord Hangwan, her lover, used to live.\n\n\"I was born,\" she said, \"in the province of Hitachi; but I am of\ntoo low birth to have a family name. Therefore may I beseech you\nto bestow some suitable name upon me?\"\n\nThen Terute-Hime was named Kohagi of Hitachi, and she was told\nthat she would have to serve her master very faithfully in his\nbusiness.\n\nBut this order she refused to obey, and said that she would\nperform with pleasure any work given her to do, however mean or\nhard, but that she would never follow the business of a joro.\n\n\"Then,\" cried Chobei in anger, \"your daily tasks shall be\nthese:--\n\n\"To feed all the horses, one hundred in number, that are kept in\nthe stables, and to wait upon all other persons in the house when\nthey take their meals.\n\n\"To dress the hair of the thirty-six joro belonging to this\nhouse, dressing the hair of each in the style that best becomes\nher; and also to fill seven boxes with threads of twisted hemp.\n\n\"Also to make the fire daily in seven furnaces, and to draw water\nfrom a spring in the mountains, half a mile from here.\"\n\nTerute knew that neither she nor any other being alive could\npossibly fulfill all the tasks thus laid upon her by this cruel\nmaster; and she wept over her misfortune.\n\nBut she soon felt that to weep could avail her nothing. So wiping\naway her tears, she bravely resolved to try what she could do,\nand then putting on an apron, and tying back her sleeves, she set\nto work feeding the horses.\n\nThe great mercy of the gods cannot be understood; but it is\ncertain that as she fed the first horse, all the others, through\ndivine influence, were fully fed at the same time.\n\nAnd the same wonderful thing happened when she waited upon the\npeople of the house at mealtime, and when she dressed the hair of\nthe girls, and when she twisted the threads of hemp, and when she\nwent to kindle the fire in the furnaces.\n\nBut saddest of all it was to see Terute-Hime bearing the\nwater-buckets upon her shoulders, taking her way to the distant\nspring to draw water.\n\nAnd when she saw the reflection of her much-changed face in the\nwater with which she filled her buckets, then indeed she wept\nvery bitterly.\n\nBut the sudden remembrance of the cruel Chobei filled her with\nexceeding fear, and urged her back in haste to her terrible\nabode.\n\nBut soon the master of the joroya began to see that his new\nservant was no common woman, and to treat her with a great show\nof kindness.\n\n(1)A house of prostitution.\n\n\nIX. DRAWING THE CART\n\nAnd now we shall tell what became of Kane-uji.\n\nThe far-famed Yugyo Shonin, of the temple of Fujisawa in Kagami,\nwho traveled constantly in Japan to preach the law of Buddha in\nall the provinces, chanced to be passing over the moor\nUwanogahara.\n\nThere he saw many crows and kites flitting about a grave. Drawing\nnearer, he wondered much to see a nameless thing, seemingly\nwithout arms or legs, moving between the pieces of a broken\ntombstone.\n\nThen he remembered the old tradition, that those who are put to\ndeath before having completed the number of years allotted to\nthem in this world reappear or revive in the form called\n_gaki-ami_.\n\nAnd he thought that the shape before him must be one of those\nunhappy spirits; and the desire arose in his kindly heart to have\nthe monster taken to the hot springs belonging to the temple of\nKumano, and thereby enable it to return to its former human\nstate.\n\nSo he had a cart made for the _gaki-ami_, and he placed the\nnameless shape in it, and fastened to its breast a wooden tablet,\ninscribed with large characters.\n\nAnd the words of the inscription were these: \"Take pity upon this\nunfortunate being, and help it upon its journey to the hot\nsprings of the temple of Kumano.\n\n\"Those who draw the cart even a little way, by pulling the rope\nattached to it, will be rewarded with very great good fortune.\n\n\"To draw the cart even one step shall be equal in merit to\nfeeding one thousand priests, and to draw it two steps shall be\nequal in merit to feeding ten thousand priests;\n\n\"And to draw it three steps shall be equal in merit to causing\nany dead relation--father, mother, or husband--to enter upon the\nway of Buddhahood.\"\n\nThus very soon travelers who traveled that way took pity on the\nformless one: some drew the cart several miles, and, others were\nkind enough to draw it for many days together.\n\nAnd so, after much time, the _gaki-ami_ in its cart appeared\nbefore the joroya of Yorodzuya Chobei; and Kohagi of Hitachi,\nseeing it, was greatly moved by the inscription.\n\nThen becoming suddenly desirous to draw the cart if even for one\nday only, and so to obtain for her dead husband the merit\nresulting from such work of mercy, she prayed her master to allow\nher three days' liberty that she might draw the cart.\n\nAnd she asked this for the sake of her parents; for she dared not\nspeak of her husband, fearing the master might become very angry\nwere he to learn the truth.\n\nChobei at first refused, declaring in a harsh voice that since\nshe had not obeyed his former commands, she should never be\nallowed to leave the house, even for a single hour.\n\nBut Kohagi said to him: \"Lo, master! the hens go to their nests\nwhen the weather becomes cold, and the little birds hie to the\ndeep forest. Even so do men in time of misfortune flee to the\nshelter of benevolence.\n\n\"Surely it is because you are known as a kindly man that the\n_gaki-ami_ rested a while outside the fence of this house.\n\n\"Now I shall promise to give up even a life for my master and\nmistress in case of need, providing you will only grant me three\ndays' freedom now.\"\n\nSo at last the miserly Chobei was persuaded to grant the prayer;\nand his wife was glad to add even two days more to the time\npermitted. And Kohagi, thus freed for five days, was so rejoiced\nthat she at once without delay commenced her horrible task.\n\nAfter having, with much hardship, passed through such places as\nFuhanoseki, Musa, Bamba, Samegaye, Ono, and Suenaga-toge, she\nreached the famed town of Otsu, in the space of three days.\n\nThere she knew that she would have to leave the cart, since it\nwould take her two days to return thence to the province of Mino.\n\n\nOn her long way to Otsu, the only pleasing sights and sounds were\nthe beautiful lilies growing wild by the roadside, the voices of\nthe hibari and shijugara(1) and all the birds of spring that sang\nin the trees, and the songs of the peasant girls who were\nplanting the rice.\n\nBut such sights and sounds could please her only a moment; for\nmost of them caused her to dream of other days, and gave her pain\nby making her recollect the hopeless condition into which she had\nnow fallen.\n\n(1) Hibari, a species of field lark; shijugara, a kind of\ntitmouse.\n\n\nThough greatly wearied by the hard labor she had undertaken for\nthree whole days, she would not go to an inn. She passed the last\nnight beside the nameless shape, which she would have to leave\nnext day.\n\n\"Often have I heard,\" she thought to herself, \"that a _gaki-ami_\nis a being belonging to the world of the dead. This one, then,\nshould know something about my dead husband.\n\n\"Oh that this _gaki-ami_ had the sense either of hearing or of\nsight! Then I could question it about Kane-uji, either by word of\nmouth or in writing.\"\n\nWhen day dawned above the neighboring misty mountains, Kohagi\nwent away to get an inkstone and a brush; and she soon returned\nwith these to the place where the cart was.\n\nThen, with the brush, she wrote, below the inscription upon the\nwooden tablet attached to the breast of the _gaki-ami_, these\nwords:--\n\n\"When you shall have recovered and are able to return to your\nprovince, pray call upon Kohagi of Hitachi, a servant of\nYorodzuya Chobei of the town of Obaka in the province of Mino.\n\n\"For it will give me much joy to see the person for whose sake I\nobtained with difficulty five days' freedom, three of which I\ngave to drawing your cart as far as this place.\"\n\nThen she bade the _gaki-ami_ farewell, and turned back upon her\nhomeward way, although she found it very difficult thus to leave\nthe cart alone.\n\n\nX. THE REVIVAL\n\nAt last the _gaki-ami_ was brought to the hot springs of the\nfamed temple of Kumano Gongen, and, by the aid of those\ncompassionate persons who pitied its state, was daily enabled to\nexperience the healing effects of the bath.\n\nAfter a single week the effects of the bath caused the eyes,\nnose, ears, and mouth to reappear; after fourteen days all the\nlimbs had been fully re-formed;\n\nAnd after one-and-twenty days the nameless shape was completely\ntransformed into the real Oguri-Hangwan Kane-uji, perfect and\nhandsome as he had been in other years.\n\nWhen this marvelous change had been effected, Kane-uji looked all\nabout him, and wondered much when and how he had been brought to\nthat strange place.\n\nBut through the august influence of the god of Kumano things were\nso ordained that the revived prince could return safely to his\nhome at Nijo in Kyoto, where his parents, the lord Kane-ie and\nhis spouse, welcomed him with great joy.\n\nThen the august Emperor, hearing all that had happened, thought\nit a wonderful thing that one of his subjects, after having been\ndead three years, should have thus revived.\n\nAnd not only did he gladly pardon the fault for which the Hangwan\nhad been banished, but further appointed him to be lord ruler of\nthe three provinces, Hitachi, Sagami, and Mino.\n\n\nXI. THE INTERVIEW\n\nOne day Oguri-Hangwan left his residence to make a journey of\ninspection through the provinces of which he had been appointed\nruler. And reaching Mino, he resolved to visit Kohagi of Hitachi,\nand to utter his thanks to her for her exceeding goodness.\n\nTherefore he lodged at the house of Yorodzuya, where he was\nconducted to the finest of all the guest-chambers, which was made\nbeautiful with screens of gold, with Chinese carpets, with Indian\nhangings, and with other precious things of great cost.\n\nWhen the lord ordered Kohagi of Hitachi to be summoned to his\npresence, he was answered that she was only one of the lowest\nmenials, and too dirty to appear before him. But he paid no heed\nto these words, only commanding that she should come at once, no\nmatter how dirty she might be.\n\nTherefore, much against her will, Kohagi was obliged to appear\nbefore the lord, whom she at first beheld through a screen, and\nsaw that he was so much like the Hangwan that she was greatly\nstartled.\n\nOguri then asked her to tell him her real name; but Kohagi\nrefused, saying: \"If I may not serve my lord with wine, except on\ncondition of telling my real name, then I can only leave the\npresence of my lord.\"\n\nBut as she was about to go, the Hangwan called to her: \"Nay, stop\na little while. I have a good reason to ask your name, because I\nam in truth that very _gaki-ami_ whom you so kindly drew last\nyear to Otsu in a cart.\"\n\nAnd with these words he produced the wooden tablet upon which Kohagi had\nwritten.\n\nThen she was greatly moved, and said: \"I am very happy to see you\nthus recovered. And now I shall gladly tell you all my history;\nhoping only that you, my lord, will tell me something of that\nghostly world from which you have come back, and in which my\nhusband, alas, now dwells.\n\n\"I was born (it hurts my heart to speak of former times!) the\nonly daughter of Yokoyama Choja, who dwelt in the district of\nSoba, in the province of Sagami, and my name was Terute-Hime.\n\n\"I remember too well, alas! having been wedded, three years ago,\nto a famous person of rank, whose name was Oguri-Hangwan\nKane-uji, who used to live in the province of Hitachi. But my\nhusband was poisoned by my father at the instigation of his own\nthird son, Saburo.\n\n\"I myself was condemned by him to be drowned in the sea of\nSagami. And I owe my present existence to the faithful servants\nof my father, Onio and Oniji.\"\n\nThen the lord Hangwan said, \"You see here before you, Terute,\nyour husband, Kane-uji. Although killed together with my\nfollowers, I had been destined to live in this world many years\nlonger.\n\n\"By the learned priest of Fujisawa temple I was saved, and, being\nprovided with a cart, I was drawn by many kind persons to the hot\nsprings of Kumano, where I was restored to my former health and\nshape. And now I have been appointed lord ruler of the three\nprovinces, and can have all things that I desire.\"\n\nHearing this tale, Terute could scarcely believe it was not all a\ndream, and she wept for joy. Then she said: \"Ah! since last I saw\nyou, what hardships have I not passed through!\n\n\"For seven days and seven nights I was tossed about upon the sea\nin a canoe; then I was in a great danger in the bay of Nawoye,\nand was saved by a kind man called Murakami Deyu.\n\n\"And after that I was sold and bought seventy-five times; and the\nlast time I was brought here, where I have been made to suffer\nall kinds of hardship only because I refused to become a joro.\nThat is why you now see me in so wretched a condition.\"\n\nVery angry was Kane-uji to hear of the cruel conduct of the\ninhuman Chobei, and desired to kill him at once.\n\nBut Terute besought her husband to spare the man's life, and so\nfulfilled the promise she had long before made to Chobei,--that\nshe would give even her own life, if necessary, for her master\nand mistress, on condition of being allowed five days' freedom to\ndraw the cart of the _gaki-ami_.\n\nAnd for this Chobei was really grateful; and in compensation he\npresented the Hangwan with the hundred horses from his stable,\nand gave to Terute the thirty-six servants belonging to his\nhouse.\n\nAnd then Terute-Hime, appropriately attired, went away with the\nPrince Kane-uji; and, they began their journey to Sagami with\nhearts full of joy.\n\n\nXII. THE VENGEANCE\n\nThis is the district of Soba, in the province of Sagami, the\nnative land of Terute: how many beautiful and how many sorrowful\nthoughts does it recall to their minds!\n\nAnd here also are Yokoyama and his son, who killed Lord Ogiri\nwith poison.\n\nSo Saburo, the third son, being led to the moor called\nTotsuka-no-hara, was there punished.\n\nBut Yokoyama Choja, wicked as he had been, was not punished;\nbecause parents, however bad, must be for their children always\nlike the sun and moon. And hearing this order, Yokoyama repented\nvery greatly for that which he had done.\n\nQnio and Oniji, the brothers, were rewarded with many gifts for\nhaving saved the Princess Terute off the coast of Sagami.\n\nThus those who were good prospered, and the bad were brought to\ndestruction.\n\nFortunate and happy, Oguri-Sama and Terute-Hime together returned\nto Miako, to dwell in the residence at Nijo, and their union was\nbeautiful as the blossoming of spring.\n\n_Fortunate! Fortunate!_\n\n\n\nTHE BALLAD OF O-SHICHI, THE DAUGHTER OF THE YAOYA (1)\n\nIn autumn the deer are lured within reach of the hunters by the\nsounds of the flute, which resemble the sounds of the voices of\ntheir mates, and so are killed.\n\nAlmost in like manner, one of the five most beautiful girls in\nYedo, whose comely faces charmed all the capital even as the\nspring-blossoming of cherry-trees, cast away her life in the\nmoment of blindness caused by love.\n\nWhen, having done a foolish thing, she was brought before the\nmayor of the city of Yedo, that high official questioned the\nyoung criminal, asking: \"Are you not O-Shichi, the daughter of\nthe yaoya? And being so young, how came you to commit such a\ndreadful crime as incendiarism?\"\n\nThen O-Shichi, weeping and wringing her hands, made this answer:\n\"Indeed, that is the only crime I ever committed; and I had no\nextraordinary reason for it but this:--\n\n\"Once before, when there had been a great fire,--so great a fire\nthat nearly all Yedo was consumed,--our house also was burned\ndown. And we three,--my parents and I,--knowing no otherwhere to\ngo, took shelter in a Buddhist temple, to remain there until our\nhouse could be rebuilt.\n\n\"Surely the destiny that draws two young persons to each other is\nhard to understand!... In that temple there was a young acolyte,\nand love grew up between us.\n\n\"In secret we met together, and promised never to forsake each\nother; and we pledged ourselves to each other by sucking blood\nfrom small cuts we made in our little fingers, and by exchanging\nwritten vows that we should love each other forever.\n\n\"Before our pillows had yet become fixed(2), our new house in Hongo was\nbuilt and made ready for us.\n\n\"But from that day when I bade a sad farewell to Kichiza-Sama, to\nwhom I had pledged myself for the time of two existences, never\nwas my heart consoled by even one letter from the acolyte.\n\n\"Alone in my bed at night, I used to think and think, and at last\nin a dream there came to me the dreadful idea of setting fire to\nthe house, as the only means of again being able to meet my\nbeautiful lover.\n\n\"Then, one evening, I got a bundle of dry rushes, and placed\ninside it some pieces of live charcoal, and I secretly put the\nbundle into a shed at the back of the house.\n\n\"A fire broke out, and there was a great tumult, and I was\narrested and brought here--oh! how dreadful it was!\n\n\"I will never, never commit such a fault again. But whatever\nhappen, oh, pray save me, my Bugyo(3)! Oh, pray take pity on me!\"\n\nAh! the simple apology!... But what was her age? Not twelve? not\nthirteen? not fourteen? Fifteen comes after fourteen. Alas! she\nwas fifteen, and could not be saved!\n\nTherefore O-Shichi was sentenced according to the law. But first\nshe was bound with strong cords, and was for seven days exposed\nto public view on the bridge called Nihonbashi. Ah! what a\npiteous sight it was!\n\nHer aunts and cousins, even Bekurai and Kakusuke, the house\nservants, had often to wring their sleeves, so wet were their\nsleeves with tears.\n\nBut, because the crime could not be forgiven, O-Shichi was bound\nto four posts, and fuel was kindled, and the fire rose up!... And\npoor O-Shichi in the midst of that fire!\n\n\n_Even so the insects of summer fly to the flame_.\n\n\n(1) Yaoya, a seller of vegetables.\n\n(2) This curious expression has its origin in the Japanese saying\nthat lovers \"exchange pillows.\" In the dark, the little Japanese\nwooden pillows might easily be exchanged by mistake. \"While the\npillows, were yet not definite or fixed\" would mean, therefore,\nwhile the two lovers were still in the habit of seeking each\nother secretly at night.\n\n(3) Governor or local chief. The Bugyo of old days often acted as\njudge.","title":"Kokoro: Hints and Echoes of Japanese Inner Life","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":73871}