Chapter IV

A talk on brackens--Eating of fruits without peeling--A pet tortoise--Remarks on languages--Discourses on jiujitsu--Comparison of jiujitsu and wrestling--Japanese art and the Kokkwa--Pictures in the Gospel--Discourse on Bushido, its history and the origin of the term--Explanation of the terms Daimio, Samurai, and Bushi--Its literature--Japanese revenge and European duel--Japanese sword--Soul of Samurai--General Stoessel and a broken sword--Discussion on Japanese social morality--Japan far cleaner than any other nation--The condition at the time of the transition--General view of the westernised Japan--Occidental vulgarity

I was at the luncheon table of the Duke and Duchess of Fairfield: quite _en famille_, there being present only a young nobleman of Italian descent besides the duke and duchess and their two daughters.

In the course of luncheon, casual mention was made by one of the young ladies of the fronds of bracken, called _warabi_ in Japan, regarding which I had made some remarks in England as to its edible properties.

--'I have read in some English papers all that you said about it,' said the young nobleman; 'and, indeed, most of the French journals have also reported it since.'

--'Yes, after I had initiated the matter, almost all the English papers, both in town and country, made some comments. I have even read that a philanthropic gentleman had reproduced the necessary information in leaflet form, for distribution amongst the needy people in some parts of Wales, where there is often a scarcity of food. The starch made from the roots of bracken is considered in Japan the best, and is used very widely. There is a similar vegetable called _jemmai_; it is larger than bracken and used in a dried form. It is very soft and palatable, and is very extensively used in Japanese cookery. I do not know for certain if the latter kind exists in Europe, though I believe it does. As to bracken, it grows everywhere. I am, however, but little sanguine that my recommendation will be utilised in England, though the method of preparation is very simple. The secret of the preliminary preparation lies in soaking it, from ten to fifteen hours in water with soda. I revealed it from a philanthropic motive. But, you see, the British are so conservative in such matters. I even noticed, in a newspaper, a letter wherein the writer stated that he had cooked some bracken, but it turned out unpalatable, although quite tender. He did not wait to find out if there might not be room for improvement in his method of cooking: people are so apt to discredit others before they make sure of a fact.'

--'That is generally the case in this world,' said the duchess; 'but I wonder if French bracken is equally good.'

--'Surely it is,' I replied, 'even that in the neighbourhood of Paris: the bracken in Fontainebleau forests is said to be very fine. Only in May last, a number of Japanese ladies in Paris made a special excursion there, and brought back bunches of it. I was one of those who enjoyed the dishes resulting.'

--'You may be sure it is a subject that will be taken up, when the semi-famine days come, and then, perhaps, your name will be remembered,' remarked one of the young ladies.

--'No, I think not,' I replied. 'I believe, I shall be buried long before that, and my name too.'

--'Oh, don't say that,' broke in another of the young ladies.

Dessert was now served, in the course of which I remarked:

--'I will tell you an incident which will probably interest you. I was spending a week-end with the Dake and Duchess of Hamilton, who have always been very courteous to me. One morning, at the breakfast table, I noticed the duchess cut an apple, and gave it to her young son without peeling. This rather struck me, so I asked her reason, when she told me that her medical adviser had instructed her to do so, because the essence of the nourishing part of the fruit was contained just under the skin, so that it was better not to remove the skin. It was quite a relief to me (for we men, and especially myself, often find it troublesome to pare fruit). Now I could eat fruit without paring the skin unconcernedly, and should any onlooker laugh at me, or ask the reason, I could lecture him from the point of medical science.'

--'You always view things from a point of vantage,' interposed the younger daughter.

We went into the garden, and took our coffee there in a shaded corner. Meanwhile I noticed a little puppy looking up at us from a corner of the turf. It did not move, and I soon discovered it was porcelain.

--'Ah, I see, I thought it was a live dog when I was here last. It was towards evening, just as I was leaving when I noticed it.'

At this moment a servant brought in a tortoise: it was a very large one and quite tame. The duchess fed it with lettuce, saying:

--'This is my pet, and I am very fond of it. It prefers lettuce to any other vegetable.'

--'I have seen many tortoises,' I said, 'but this is the first time I have seen one as a pet. In Japan, one sees in the ponds or small lakes round the temples, hundreds, nay, thousands, floating in the water, or lying on rocks or boards basking in the sun. Their preservation is chiefly due to the customary kindness and religious sentiment of the Japanese.'

I then told the duchess what I knew of tortoises and their habits, remarking that those amphibians lived more in the water than on land, and it was necessary for them to be put in the water at least occasionally.

And so the soft summer evening glided away as we passed from one topic of conversation to another.

--'Do you find European languages very difficult to learn?' asked one of the young ladies. 'I suppose there is no similarity between our language and yours?'

--'None whatever,' I replied, 'and we certainly find them very difficult to acquire. The difference between the various European languages might perhaps be compared to the difference between a horse and a mule, while the difference between Japanese and the European languages would certainly not be closer in comparison than a horse to an ox. That is to say, the former differs only in species, and the latter in kind. Hence you can easily see how much more difficult it is for an Oriental to learn any European language, than a European to learn a second European language. Even amongst the European languages, there are, as you know, many idioms differing one from the other, and consequently difficult to understand. Only the other day I was not a little amused at a French translation of the English sentence "hold good" in the sense that "one thing had an advantage over another." You can imagine how much more difficult it is for a Japanese to know the value of every word, not to say an idiom, of a European language. Once in Japan, I was watching some European and Japanese children playing Hide-and-Seek together. The European children were making use of the Japanese words meaning "Hot and Cold" in place of "Far and Near." I could only make out what they meant after I had carefully watched the game. I am sure we commit similar errors every day when speaking in a foreign language. More than thirty years ago a party of Japanese ambassadors, including the present Marquis Ito, whom you know, and their suites, made a round trip through America and Europe: perhaps the duke remembers it. The mayor of a large manufacturing town in England, which a portion of the party were visiting, invited the visitors to the play. The party was divided into two and occupied two boxes opposite each other. The mayor and his wife were in a box and their daughter in the other. An Englishman who was in the mayor's box remarked to a Japanese guest, of an eminent fellow-guest seated beside the young lady opposite, "Monsieur K. must be very happy," meaning, no doubt, to pay a compliment indirectly to the mayor and his wife; but the Japanese to whom the remark was addressed understood but little English and replied: "K. must be quite ashamed."

--'It spoilt everything. In our language the word meaning "shame" and "bashfulness" are identical and the sense is only modified by a slight difference in construction. A somewhat similar example is the great difference in the meaning between the phrases _fâché contre_ and _fâché de_. The results of the misconstruction, as may be imagined, were rather serious. It was only made good by another Japanese who made a timely explanation. I heard this incident direct from that gentleman who made the explanation. That incident clearly demonstrates how difficult and delicate it is to express oneself in a tongue other than one's own.'

--'Exactly,' interposed the young nobleman. 'It is always necessary to make much allowance for a foreigner, and to make a guess at his meaning.'

--'The jiujitsu is being exhibited once more in France,' said the duchess. 'I have seen several advertisements in to-day's papers, one of which states that a physician asked the exhibitor to demonstrate on him, and afterwards declared it quite scientific. People in France know very little of that art.'

--'No wonder,' I answered; 'even in England, where jiujitsu is so much spoken of, it was very little known until quite recently. Not many years ago a lecture on the subject, accompanied by some practical demonstrations, was delivered at a literary society, by a Japanese gentleman, assisted by another Japanese. On that occasion a weekly paper of high reputation commented upon the art, saying that there was nothing in it. The writer added that jiujitsu was exactly the same as the English wrestling, with a few different tricks.'

--'Is there much difference between the two?'

--'Yes, there is a great difference. Of course the combatants in both exercises strive to get the upper hand of each other, but the great difference is that the wrestling relies chiefly on strength, whilst jiujitsu depends on all sorts of tricks, based upon a careful study of physical organism, and therefore physical strength may be said to be of little value, nay, in truth, it uses the strength of the opponent against himself. We, in Japan, have also a method of competition resembling the wrestling of the West, and we apply to that the Western name "wrestling." We do not like our jiujitsu to be confounded with it, though Western people sometimes call it by that name. When our jiujitsu is called "wrestling," it hurts our feelings a little.'

--'Why, how is that?' demanded the duchess.

--'Well, nothing very serious, but the reason is this: jiujitsu has always been regarded in Japan as an art chiefly practised by men of the higher classes. It has never been a profession, still less a public show, and the reason why now and then the art is made an object of exhibition in a public hall of the Western towns, is only an outcome of the altered conditions of the time. On the other hand, the wrestling which we call Sumoo has always been a profession and for public entertainment for many centuries.'

--'I see.'

--'It must, however, be understood that even wrestling is not considered a low profession, and though it is exhibited to the public, is very different from other kinds of shows--those, for instance, given at a fête. Wrestling in Japan has a very remote origin. In its earlier stage it was not a profession, it was one of the military sports, but as time went on it became a regular profession. Tokio is the centre of the Wrestling Association, and therefore it has the best wrestlers. Osaka comes next. The wrestlers are brought up and trained from boyhood: promising youths are picked up from all parts of the country by the principal wrestlers and taken into their private halls. There are two principal exhibitions of ten days, one early in the year and the other early in the summer, held in Tokio, when the rank and order of every member of the association is determined by competition. In the intervals they subdivide themselves into several parties and go about the country exhibiting their art. Men are very fond of seeing the wrestling, though very few women care to see it; in fact, it is only of recent date that one observes any women at all at such exhibitions, and those only of indifferent standing. It is not considered good taste. The last point excepted, wrestling in Japan resembles somewhat a bull-fight in Spain. I do not mean the sport itself, but in the sense of its being a national institution. From this fact you may see that we have more and better wrestlers than you in the West. Sometimes Western wrestlers come to Japan and challenge our wrestlers, but they are no match for ours. It is not worth boasting about, I merely state the fact. Of course, there is also much wrestling in country parts, and young people often perform, but they are, after all, only amateurs. As to jiujitsu, the art has been studied by the Samurai in a similar manner to fencing, with no professional performance or public show. Hence a great difference in the social position of jiujitsu experts and wrestlers. Nevertheless, the wrestlers maintain some trace of their ancient standing, for their position even now is regarded as superior to actors or the geisha, though good actors are rapidly gaining a social position.'

--'Is jiujitsu as old as wrestling?'

--'No, it is not. Jiujitsu is not quite three hundred years old, since it has been systematised into an art. There are many schools, I mean styles, of jiujitsu, and naturally some are older than others. They differ somewhat from one another, the difference having arisen chiefly from the endeavour of the founders to make improvements.'

--'But what is the real purport of jiujitsu?'

--'The masters call it an art of self-defence. You see, our Samurai do not like to be arrogant or offensive to other people, and therefore they profess to use jiujitsu only when attacked, hence the name of self-defence, and this point is one of their ideals; but as a matter of fact, it is an art that can be used for attack equally well, and therefore may be called an art both offensive and defensive. The advantage of knowing this art is that we can throw an opponent without hurting or killing him, because it requires no weapons, not even a stick. It is done by catching hold of various parts of the opponent by the hands. Of course, there are many tricks, and therefore, if both parties be equally efficient in the art, the combat becomes very complicated. The term jiujitsu literally means "soft art," or an art accomplished by "sleight of body," as some people put it, so much so that one school is called "The Willow Mind Style." We have a saying, "A willow knows not a breaking by snow," meaning that a slender branch of a willow is stronger than a branch of a robust tree like the pine, an analogy showing that flexibility is often stronger than stubbornness.

'From all this it may well be imagined that a slender and small man, without any perceptible physical strength, can often become a great master of the art. Once at Shanghai, a Japanese who understood jiujitsu well was attacked by a group of Chinese roughs in the middle of a bridge, but he threw them all, one after the other, since when no Chinaman attempts to attack a Japanese, concluding wisely that we may all be masters of the art. Once in England--I believe it was in Newcastle--a number of roughs attacked a Japanese; he threw them all, one after the other, and went off. The roughs were taken into custody by constables, when they confessed that they would not have attacked the man had they known he was a Japanese, and they believed that all Japanese knew the "devilish trick of wrestling," as they called it. You now see the nature of our jiujitsu, I suppose.'

--'And suppose your best wrestler and a jiujitsu man encountered?' asked one of the young ladies.

--'A wrestler is no match for a jiujitsu man. A wrestler who can lift up a big stone, or catch hold of a bull by its horns, would be easily beaten by a youth of fourteen scarcely able to lift a small cannon ball, provided the boy were well trained in jiujitsu. In wrestling, therefore, all jiujitsu tricks are forbidden. This will explain why no Occidental, even a champion wrestler, has ever succeeded in defeating a Japanese jiujitsu man. Perhaps you remember one of our jiujitsu men, who is in England, won the Gold Championship Cup last year, and yet in Japan he is not considered a first-class man in the art. I do not, however, wish to boast of the matter. Even amongst the most undeveloped tribes one sometimes sees the greatest possible skill shown in such matters, especially in the use of the bow and arrow. I hear American Indians shoot fishes in the rivers with arrows, and that too not by aiming direct, but by sending arrows up in the air and letting them fall in the water. They do not shoot direct, because, as you know, the curve of sight in water is very different from that in plain air.'

--'I understand that,' said the duchess, 'but your jiujitsu seems to be very different from mere skill. It is the result of a long and deliberate study of physical organism, systematised upon a scientific basis, as the physician in the paper says.'

--'Maybe,' I answered.

--'But what is that book which you have brought with you?' asked the duchess.

--'It is the book I promised you the other day. It is the _Kokkwa_, a monthly on art. It contains, as you see, very good photogravures and chromographs of our old _objets d'art_.'

So saying, I handed the book to the duchess, and continued:

--'You told me the other day, _apropos_ of the conversation of the Marchioness Vivastine and myself, that you were also an admirer of our art, and that you appreciated Utamaro and Hokusai. No doubt they were great artists, and I am delighted, of course, with your appreciation, but we should be sorry if they stood to you for the best that we can do in art. This monthly will give you a good idea why I say so.'

All present were interested in the book, and its pages were gently turned over one by one. Presently the duchess remarked:

--'Do you mean to say that the originals of these illustrations date back thirteen centuries?'

--'Indeed, I do,' I replied.

--'And that these prints were really made in Japan?' said another.

--'Yes, surely.'

--'What a softness and feeling here! Look!' the duchess went on; 'and how this part resembles classic Italian.'

--'The art of printing,' I said, 'is well developed in Japan. The other day I showed a copy of the _Financial and Economical Annual_ of Japan to a Frenchman, and he thought the printing was very neat and clear, and could scarcely believe that the book had been printed in my country.'

--'I can quite realise the scepticism of that person; but can you give me a rough idea of your ideal of pictures?'

--'That's a rather difficult question. In your sacred book you have a picture where Christ talks about "lilies." He stands in a field, utters His words, pointing to some pure white lilies blooming, but not in abundance, in the field. There is a perfect picture, the symbolic meaning of the pure white flowers standing out vividly before your eyes. In another place you see Christ entering a boat on a lake. There is another picture. A lake calm and serene, surrounded by undulating hills, perhaps with the shadow of the hills and trees reflected on the surface of the water. There one or two fishermen handle oars in a fantastic boat. A sage calls them from the shore to come to Him. A perfect landscape! An immense expanse and an eternal stillness of the universe almost unconsciously arises before the mind's eye of the onlooker. Such is, then, a type of the ideals of our pictorial worlds.'

--'I can well imagine it,' said the young nobleman. 'Your chromographs of even small objects, such as picture postcards, are very fine and artistic and, at the same time, so simple. Look at ours: they have neither feeling nor taste, and usually are showy and gorgeous, and, indeed, often vulgar.'

--'I must say I agree with you to some extent. I am rather sorry that such monthly publications as _Kokkwa_ do not pay well in Japan. The present publisher of the journal is the proprietor of a large newspaper, and not a regular book publisher. He is himself a great collector of our _objets d'art_, of which he is very fond, and this is the sole reason why he took up the publication after it had been nearly discontinued by its former publisher. He is now trying to see if an English edition of it will pay, although the end he has in view is to make Japan known to the West, rather than any pecuniary personal gain. Indeed, it is for that reason he has sent me this copy, asking me to show it to those who have a taste for such things. I really think that, for the general good, the publication is worth continuing.'

--'Certainly,' said the duchess. 'Let me see, it is only two yen per number, that is five francs per month; cheap enough. I will subscribe at once.'

The young nobleman now left our party, for he had another engagement. He has a talent for music, and when a private concert was given only a few weeks ago in the garden of an aristocratic family which I know, he was the conductor, although only an amateur. This the young ladies told me, and the circumstance led me to ask if they also were not musical. One of them, she told me, played the piano, and the other the violin, and I said I hoped that one day they would let me have the pleasure of hearing them. I further said that the piano was only known in Japan to a slight degree, and that only recently; but that we had always had an instrument much resembling the violin.

The duke held in his hand an English literary weekly of the highest repute. Turning to me he said:

--'Look! here is a review of two new books, one on the Bushido by a Japanese writer, and the other on Japan in general by an American, I suppose. It is a subject that interests me, as, indeed, it does many people nowadays. I have read it through and noticed that the reviewer speaks of Bushido very sarcastically. He says, among other things, that the discovery of Bushido is of quite recent date, and continues; but listen, I will read it:

'Neither Sir E. Satow nor Dr. Aston even mentions the word Bushido;
Prof. Chamberlain in his _Things Japanese_ (1898) does not refer to
it; the word is not contained in the admirable dictionary prepared
by Captain Brinkley, the able but intensely Japanicised
correspondent of the _Times_; nor is it to be found in the
principal native dictionary, the _Kotoba no Izumi_ ("Source of
Language").'

--'What nonsense,' I interrupted; 'by the same analogy one might say, because there is no compound noun Christian-morality in an English dictionary, there is no such thing as Christian morality.'

'Bushido, in literal Chinese,' continued the duke, reading, 'is the
way of the executioner, and those who were eye-witnesses of the
tyranny of the Samurai, in the last three years of the Bakufu
[Shogunate], will not regard the name as altogether inappropriate.
The Bushi (a Japano-Chinese, but not Chineseform), or Samurai, were
neither knights nor knightly; they were "followers" merely; many,
if not most of them, petty officials, few of them for two hundred
and fifty years possessed any military experience whatever.'

--'How ridiculous,' I interrupted; 'but I cannot make out what the reviewer could have got into his head to make him translate the term Bushi as "executioner." It is an insult to Bushi, of whom we have the oft-quoted saying, "Hana wa sakura ni hitowa bushi": "As the cherry blossoms are the prime of the flowers, so the Bushi is the flower of man." We have a popular drama in which there is a scene where a female prisoner is brought out under the superintendence of a common Bushi; and there the phrase "Keigo-no-Bushi" occurs, meaning, the Bushi who guards. Perhaps the reviewer remembered it, and concluded that Bushi meant an executioner, because he had charge of a prisoner. If this is so, by the same analogy we might say the "Knight of the Garter" is a domestic servant who looks after his mistress's garter. Ah! there is another thing which occurs to me. In China, where military men are little thought of, they are often used for such duties as those of an executioner; some foreigners, who had seen the fact whereby those men were called Bushi, perhaps thought that the term meant "executioners" without knowing its primary meaning. By that analogy one might say that gentlemen belonging to the honourable guild known as "The Worshipful Company of Grocers of the City of London" were common dealers in tea and sugar, because they are called grocers, without knowing the origin of the term. The passages in that review accidentally caught my sight too, and out of curiosity I looked the matter up in a few books which I happened to have by me. It is a little technical, but if you do not mind, I will explain it to you in detail.'

--'Please do,' said the duke.

--'The word Bushi is a noun composed of two Chinese characters, _bu_ and _shi_, both having a distinct meaning. _Bu_ means military or martial when used as an adjective, but it is also very commonly used as a concrete noun; and in that case it may be translated as martialism. When used as a noun it is used in contradistinction to _bun_. The last word may be translated as "civil," but I am unable to find out an exact equivalent in the Western terms, because the Western term "civil," still less the term "civism," does not convey the true idea of the word. It may, however, be taken to signify things or affairs on civil lines, as contrasting with those on military lines. _Shi_ means a man of position or a gentleman, which came by evolution to mean a military man rather than a civilian. These two words, _bu_ and _shi_, were put together and made a compound noun, signifying professional military people. The term has been most commonly used in Japan for over ten centuries. There are two other terms, Bundo and Budo, the former means principle, or doctrine, or teaching, or ways of affairs on civil lines, and the latter means the same on martial lines. They are very antique terms, contradistinguishing each other. The term Bushido is not so ancient as those two, but still it is by no means modern. The term Budo is used when one wishes to refer the matter more to the system or the principle as a unit; and the term Bushido is used when one wishes to designate more the individuals. In China the term Bushi had existed, as is natural from the antiquity of her history, many centuries before it did in Japan; I have seen it used in the history of the Hung dynasty. The term of course signifies military men; nevertheless, it has not acquired so much prominence as it has done in Japan, because in China military men have never attained the same importance and organisation as in Japan, and naturally enough there exists in China no such term as Bushido in its concrete sense, Bushido being peculiarly unique to the Japanese. Bushido consists of three Chinese characters, as the reviewer says. In the colloquial Japanese it is read as Bushi-no-michi, _do_ being the Chinese way of pronunciation, and _michi_ being the colloquial Japanese pronunciation of the one and the same character; and therefore _do_ and _michi_ are both the same thing. In _Hogen Monogatari_, an historical record of the events which took place in the middle of the twelfth century A.D., and written not longer after that period, a great hero, Tametomo, is represented to have said, in the course of a speech, as follows:

'For a Bushi, an act of killing is inevitable. Nevertheless
Bushi-no-michi [_i.e._ Bushido] forbids to kill an unfit object,
and therefore, though I have fought more than twenty battles, and
put an end to countless lives, I have always fought legitimate
foes, and not illegitimate foes [in modern phraseology combatants
and non-combatants]. And more! I have neither killed a deer nor
fished a fish.

'In the fourteenth century A.D., a book called _Chiku-ba-sho_ (the reminiscence of the bamboo-horse), which is ethical teaching for Bushi, was written by Shiwa Yoshimasa, a Japanese general, born 1349, died 1410 A.D.

'Within the last three hundred years, when Bushido has made a great systematic progress on its literary and intellectual side, many treatises on the subject have been written by eminent scholars and expounders of that doctrine. Nakaye-toju, born in 1608 A.D., wrote a book called _Questions and Answers on Bun and Bu_, in which the terms Bundo and Budo are used. In the collection of the epistles of Kumazawa Banzan, born 1619 A.D., the same terms are much used. In _Lectures by Yamaga Soko_, who was born in 1622, and was the founder of a school of our military science, there is one part called Shido. Shido and Bushido are one and the same thing, for the term _bu_ is added to _shi_ when one particularly wishes to denote the idea of the military profession. Thus, for instance, the old class of Samurai is now known as Shizoku, and not as Bushi-Zoku. Kaibara Yekken, born 1630 A.D., wrote a book called _Bukum_, namely, "Instructions on Bu," in which the term Bushi-no-michi is freely used. The _Elementary Lessons on Budo_ is a book written by Daidoji Yiuzan, born 1639. In that book the term Bushido is freely used, and we see therein such phrases: "What is most important in Bushido is the three conceptions of loyalty, justice, and bravery"; and "if a Bushi comprehend the two opposing notions of justice and injustice, and endeavour to do justice and refrain from doing injustice, Bushido will be attained." Izawa Hanrioshi, born 1711 A.D., published a book called _Bushikun_, namely, "Instructions for Bushi." In that book, also, the term Bushi-no-michi is repeatedly used, and at the end of the fourth volume of it there is a short postscript in which he says:

'These four volumes have been written to record the outlines of
Bushido, in order to supplement the points left untouched in books
published in recent generations, such as ... so that one must not
say after reading this book that it is not minute.

'I could mention several more books, but I might weary you. The names I have just cited are, in Japan, no less household words than Voltaire or Rousseau in France, and Johnson or Goldsmith in England. Satow, Aston, Chamberlain, or Brinkley might not have had time enough to touch upon the Bushido, but if one says that because they have not touched upon it there is no such thing as Bushido in Japan, it is tantamount to saying that there is no such thing as a diamond in South Africa because some travellers have not mentioned it in their diaries.'

--'You appear always to be making use of the names Bushi and Samurai indiscriminately. No doubt they signify one and the same category of people. But what is the difference?'

--'You are right in raising that question. The term Samurai is a pure and simple Japanese word, derived from a verb meaning "to wait" or "to serve." In ancient times military men on guard at the Imperial palace were called by that name; but when one wished to make the appellation more concise and appear more scholastic, the term Bushi was used. The Chinese character Shi is uniformly translated in Japanese as Samurai, but one preferred to employ the term Bushi more commonly because it gave more prominence to the military calling. At first the guards were recruited from ordinary people, but in course of time the recruiting became hereditary in certain families. They also began gradually to form a sort of class in different provinces, having their leaders, and at last formed a regular class of military men. Those men were universally called Bushi, and their families, when collectively spoken of, were called _Buke_ namely, "Houses of Bu."'

--'I understand. But what is the difference between Daimio and Samurai?'

--'A Daimio is the lord under whom the Samurai served. There were nearly three hundred feudal lords of different standing in Japan. And the number of them therefore, when spoken of roughly, was called "three hundred." In the broad signification the lords were also included in the category of Samurai. In a popular drama, in which a child lord is represented as being in want of food on account of an intrigue, he pathetically says, "A Samurai does not feel hungry even with an empty stomach." Feudal lords belonged to the category of Buke, in contradistinction to _Kuge_, namely, noble families attached direct to the Imperial courts. At present, of course, there is no such distinction, all former feudal lords and court nobles form the Japanese nobility as one class.'

--'I see, it is quite plain,' said the duke. 'The reviewer appears to have some knowledge of Japan, but judging from what I have just heard from you, I am more convinced than ever of the saying that "a little knowledge is a dangerous thing." One is apt to commit errors on account of such knowledge, especially if he has any feeling of spite and tries to find fault with others. It amuses me all the more, because he further says:

'If one ignored history, it would be easy to draw a picture of
Napoleon as a good-natured man of genius who was kind to his
relations, and evolved order out of chaos;

and he himself ignores all the history of Bushido, which you have just given me.'

--'I do not think,' I said, 'the reviewer could have any spite against us, nor do I think he has intentionally committed the error you have just mentioned, but it is unfortunate that it has that appearance.'

--'Again,' said the duke, 'what does this mean? The reviewer says here:

'The meaningless quasi-military formalism of the Bakufu, under
which the sword, undrawn from its scabbard, came to be almost
worshipped, a system of merciless vendetta, often based upon
trivial forms of injury, was established.'

--'Well, I will begin with answering the second point first. In thus giving vent to his vindictiveness, the reviewer seems to have forgotten, for instance, how few decades ago it was that in England a personage no less eminent than the prime minister was engaged, if not killed, in a duel. He forgets how widely duels are practised and connived at even now by the law on the Continent, and that men die, conceivably, in consequence of a sword-thrust or a pistol-shot. In Japan duels have been altogether forbidden by the law, as there were signs of duelling being introduced with European customs, and the prohibition has proved to be very effective. In the feudal period a custom similar to duelling, which the reviewer calls vendetta, existed, as he says; but its purport was very different from what he describes. The act was called Kataki-uchi, that is, "revenge." When a man lost his life on account of an unlawful and malicious injury, the children of the deceased regarded it as incumbent on them to take the matter in their hands, if no legal adjustments could be obtained. In the feudal times redress in such matters was not always easy, because the different clans had autonomy; and the Samurai's fighting generally originated from some quarrel of a political nature, and not from robbery or any other felonious act. On the other hand, Confucian ethics held it unworthy of a pious son to "share the same heaven" with a person who wrongfully murdered his father. From these circumstances arose the notion of the necessary vindication of the father's wrongs by the hands of the son. Thus the Japanese vendetta (Kataki-uchi) came to be officially recognised--a step further than the official connivance of the Western duels. As a matter of fact, our Kataki-uchi was of a far more serious nature, but of much rarer occurrence, than the Western duels. The same sentiments and practices were applicable to a lord and his retainers, though in a lesser degree, as in the case of blood relations. With us the avenger had always to stake much on his own part--life, position, and fortune--for although the principle of revenge was recognised in a measure, the avenger seldom got off scot-free from the responsibility of his act, which by the technical points of law was generally amenable to punishment. Thus you will see in the case of the famous forty-seven "Ronin," they avenged the death of their lord, because the latter had had to put an end to his own life, which was accompanied by an order for the total extinction of his house and clan, the cause of all of which was the injurious acts of the wrongdoer. The action of the forty-seven Ronin was morally approved by public sentiment, but they had to commit suicide because they were offenders in the eyes of the law. How, then, can one say that the Japanese Kataki-uchi was a merciless system, based upon trivial forms of injury, as the reviewer pleases to put it.'

--'But,' said the duke, 'suppose the revenge went on endlessly, to be handed down from generation to generation, as it was with the Scottish clans, that would be awful.'

--'No, in that respect, there was a limit. No second revenge was recognised in any form whatever. Thus, if A. murdered B. and B.'s son killed A. in revenge, A.'s son had no claim legally or morally to avenge his fathers death. I may also add that under the new Imperial régime Kataki-uchi has been totally discountenanced by law. There is no connivance of it at all. The law promises redress to every wrong, and every possible care is taken to protect the sufferers. Therefore, nowadays, if one kills another in revenge, he would be accounted an ordinary murderer in the eyes of the law.'

--'What about the sword?' interposed the duke.

--'The sword,' I answered, 'was considered the soul of Samurai. They regarded it as the symbol,--nay, the very embodiment of noble sentiment and spirit. It has been so more or less with almost every nation, but it was especially so with us Japanese. The Japanese swords are known to be unrivalled by those of any other nation. Our sword was the envy of all the continental peoples of the Far East. There is a famous poem composed by a great Chinese statesman and scholar, in which he pays high tribute not only to the sword itself, but to the nation which produces it. Even from a merely artistic point of view, our swords deserve to rank high; but that is not all. A latter-day author writes as follows:

The sword-smith was not a mere artisan, but an inspired artist, and
his workshop his sanctuary. Daily he commences his craft with
prayer and purification, or, as was said, he committed his soul and
spirit into the forging and tempering of the steel. Every swing of
the sledge-hammer, every plunge into the water, every friction on
the stone, was a religious act of no slight import. Was it the
spirit of the master or his tutelary deity that cast such a spell
over our sword? Perfect as a work of art, setting at defiance its
Toledo and Damascus rivals, there was more than art could impart.
Its cold blade collecting on its surface, the moment it is drawn,
the vapours of the atmosphere: its immaculate texture, flashing
light of bluish hue; its matchless edge, upon which histories and
possibilities hang, the curve of its back uniting exquisite grace
with utmost strength--all these fill us with mixed feelings of
power and beauty, of awe and terror.

'Such was, then, the "sword" which our Samurai adored. There were two or three at least of such swords, which were heirlooms of a Samurai family. Just imagine a Samurai going forth to the battlefield and reflecting what a distinction his ancestors had made in similar battlefields, or what devotions he had displayed to his lord by that very sword, now being borne in his hand or in his girdle: why! the very thought would fire his soul and make him emulate the deeds of his ancestors and despise cowardice. No mean thought could enter his mind; the spirit of the sword radiating from the pure cold lustre of the blade handed down by his ancestors could not but thrust such thought from his mind. Such would at least be the sentiments of a real Samurai. The sword was not unsheathed wantonly, but when drawn it was a maxim that it should not be sheathed until its legitimate mission had been fulfilled. No wonder, then, that a Samurai should almost have worshipped his sword, even when undrawn from its scabbard, as the reviewer sarcastically describes. The sword of a Samurai, even when in the scabbard, was not a thing to be trifled with. A Samurai worshipped sword, but not money-bags. If they had worshipped the latter instead of the former, they might have met with the approval of the reviewer. From the utilitarian point of view, if they had done so, it might have benefited their country more materially, and, therefore, their worshipping a sword might have been the weakest point of their ideals, but we do not see cause for regret for all that. The tide of time has brought changes on all such matters. The Government has forbidden not only Samurai, but also all others who were privileged, to wear swords in their girdles. Hundreds and thousands of our best blades have left the houses of Samurai and been either exported, or turned into other implements, for mere trifling sums, often for the gold and silver used for the ornaments of the scabbard. For us, it is sad to think of, though it is of course a necessary outcome of the great changes which have passed over us. It is, however, my earnest desire that the spirit of devotion to the swords with which the Samurai was animated may always be preserved. The same feeling explains why some of our officers carry with them their heirloom swords, even in the present war, as you must have noticed now and then in the press. The traditions of the sword, I am glad to say, have not as yet died in the breasts of the Japanese. There is an association in Tokio, the members of which meet periodically, bringing their own choice swords, and offering their comments on those of others. It may be difficult to appreciate how one can enjoy oneself looking at the blades of swords, but with us it gives great pleasure, if only from an artistic point of view. There have been many different schools of swordsmiths, and even amongst the workers of one school there is some special characteristics of their work. It is the pleasure of the Japanese who are fond of good sword blades to judge of the school and maker by inspecting the blades only. It pleases me to tell you of a gentleman in England who has made the study of Japanese swords a special subject, and his attainment of knowledge in the subject has been recognised by the association in Tokio, which has cheerfully elected him its honorary member. I may add a word or two. When Port Arthur was on the brink of falling, a cartoon was published in the London _Punch_ representing General Stoessel standing at the top of a fortified hill under a half-torn Russian flag. He was holding up a broken sword and uttering a few words of devotion to the Emperor of Russia. That cartoon took the English public very much, and was reproduced on the pages of many papers. It appealed very deeply to the imagination of the Japanese, in particular, though I am not quite sure if Stoessel deserved such sympathy at the last stage of the siege.'

--'That cartoon was very good,' said Lady Modestina. 'I have seen it.'

--'So have I too,' chimed in Lady Dulciana.

--'Let us proceed to the latter part of the review,' said the duke. 'The reviewer says of the author of the other book that "he takes rather a pessimistic view of Japan," and proceeds to say:

'Professor S. takes rather a pessimistic view of Japan. He admits
to the full, as every one must, the five noble qualities of
Japanese character, viz. bravery, loyalty, alertness, thoroughness,
and self-control, to which list courtesy should be added.

But he goes on to quote from the author:

'The two cancers at the core of Japanese character are deep-set
dishonesty and abandoned impurity; either would be sufficient to
wreck the life of any nation.

And it seems, according to the reviewer, the author tells us that Japan is still a country where the word lie is not a term of reproach, but rather implies a jocular compliment, and then dilates upon the undesirable occupations of some females. The words employed are very strong. Let us have your opinion.'

--'We are at times vexed with some of the occidental writers,' I replied, 'even with Anglo-Saxon writers occasionally, who write in such a strain as though they lived high in the pure air, while we Japanese live in the muddy marshes. They pick out some dark spots in our customs, and magnify them to suit their own purpose, as though for all the world they had nothing similar, or even worse, in their own countries. Some of them do this from an excess of zeal which they display in their particular calling, without any particular bad intention of defaming Japan; but the results are the same. My answer to your question is very simple. The Yellow Peril alarmists may rest assured, for, according to the author, Japan must die a natural death. What an idea, to indict a whole nation as a den of liars! Does he not know that truthfulness and honesty is the highest ideal of our ethical notions? The commonest of our ethical sayings is: "Shozikino atama ni kami yadoru" (Deity rests on the heads that are honest). The commonest of the ethical poems is:

'Kokoro dani makoto no michi ni kanai naba
Inorazu totemo kami ya mamoran.

(If only one's thoughts be in accord
With the way of truthfulness,
Deity will protect him, though he may not pray.)

'Does he not know another forcible and common saying of Bushido: "Bushi no ichigon" (One word of a Bushi), which means that a word uttered by a Bushi shall never be idle; or, expressed otherwise--"A word is sufficient; he will remain faithful to it"? It is the watchword of Bushi, and if ever a Bushi were doubted, that phrase sufficed for an answer. And it still governs our social ideal of truthfulness. "Yes" or "No," when once definitely uttered by a Bushi, was no more alterable than the ebb and flow of the tide. Does he not know another of our sayings? "Ichidaku senkin" (One "Yes" is equal to a thousand pieces of gold). Does he not know "Usotsuki" (a liar) is with us an everyday word of scathing contempt? Does he not know an "untruthful word," namely, a lie, is accounted a great sin in the Ten Commandments of Buddhism? Does he not know "Yamashi" (a speculator), a term akin to "a liar," is with us a common word of contempt? Does he not know that in large European towns waiters and drivers are constantly cheating strangers by giving wrong change or bad money? I particularly mention these incidents because I myself have often been a victim. Fancy the idea of saying that the word _lie_ is not a term of reproach in Japan! I would feign go a step further. This kind of charge is the commonest method which the Occidentals employ when they talk about the character of other races which they generally regard as inferior to themselves. But mere common-sense will tell them that there can be no human community, even amongst undeveloped tribes, where the word _lie_ is not a word of reproach, if only the smallest element of a moral notion exist, and there can hardly be any human community where there is no such moral notion at all. Such, at least, is my sociological view. With regard to the second accusation, the refutation I am going to make may not be quite in unison with social delicacy, but for that I ask your pardon. You say the author speaks of the undesirable life of some females. The matter is ugly enough, we admit. Of course, metaphorically speaking, we could restore by explanation the paint which had been blackened to its original colour, but still it would not be snow-white. Pure such matters cannot be, we admit, but is there any nation on earth which has no dark spot at all? I ask the author: Does he not know the real condition of the Western countries, whence he springs? How is it with Paris, London, Berlin, or Vienna? Pick, for instance, one hundred pedestrians at random, one afternoon or evening, in Regent Street, or on the Boulevards, the best thoroughfares of London and Paris. What percentage of them can be held up as the ideals of "purity" the writer seems to imagine them to be? I might go much further if I wished, but I prefer not. Taken as a whole, I venture to think that the social structure of Japan is in reality far cleaner than that of most countries. Of course, I do not say "two wrongs make a right," but I do say this: It is naïve to accuse us in such harsh terms, as though believing that we Japanese have no idea of the dark spots of other nations. Men after the style of this writer admit such of our noble characteristics as those enumerated by the writer because they have become manifest, not during an epoch of peace, but in the time of war. Could any one say that they were manufactured specially for the war--at a minute's notice? Did not the greatest error of our opponents lie in the fact that they had not perceived these qualities in the time of peace? It saddens us to think that such a writer either cannot see, or intentionally ignores, some of the essential points of our character, unless they are incontestably demonstrated by incessant slaughter.

--'Pardon me,--I have been a little excited, and have spoken, perhaps, more than I should. Once a Frenchman told Lord Palmerston that English thieves were cleverer than Continental ones; whereupon Palmerston answered: "I am glad of that, for it shows that our intellectual faculty is more developed all round." That is one way of looking at things. At any rate, I have no intention of attacking any occidental vices: our writers do not indulge in writing on these matters either. I rather believe that vices are necessary outcomes of modern progress. Every nation has its virtues and vices. I dare say we shall have to add more vices as we make further progress. Cards, for instance, are much played nowadays among our people, since we have learned that they are played generally among our occidental benefactors. Ah! but I must not forget to mention that there are in the West, especially in England and America, many writers for whose fairness we have much gratitude. One does not like to see, still less to acknowledge, any point of superiority in a fellow-creature or a fellow-nation one has been accustomed to look down upon: such is human nature. Our sense of gratitude is, therefore, all the more due to those unbiassed writers.

'Japan is cleaner than most countries,' I continued, 'but she was even better in that respect in the days gone by. Conversely, therefore, the general atmosphere of social morality, I confess, became somewhat tarnished at the time of the great transition, as is bound at such period. There are two reasons for that. In the first place, in the feudal days social discipline was very strict in general, and tranquil enjoyment of the positions of Samurai--above all, those holding official positions--depended a great deal upon their private conduct; but with the introduction of occidental ideas, the private affairs of individuals have come to be viewed very leniently under the name of personal freedom. In the second place, the general condition of society has occasioned laxity in moral discipline almost unavoidably and of necessity. I mean to say that, during the last years of the Shogunate, when the country was in a state of effervescence, and when freedom of speech and meeting had no existence in the modern sense--nay, when any meetings or speeches having a political nature were most rigidly watched and pursued by emissaries, it was almost a matter of necessity that countless young patriots whose lives were as precarious as candle-lights in the wind, as we have it, should resort to a restaurant or tavern, where they could exchange and communicate thought and schemes under the cover of merriment and jocularity. Nay, more: there were not wanting young patriots, who in after years became famous, who owed their lives and success to the heroic assistance rendered by women of uncertain position, to whom they had to repay their indebtedness by personal consideration rather than yield to social scruples.

'The women also were heroic in those days, as is generally the case at the time of revolution in most countries. Add to this the general disruption and transformation, unknown in our previous history, of the whole structure of society, both political and social, and it will be no matter of surprise that a certain relaxation in the usual moral discipline of the people was the result. The Japan which foreigners have seen is _that_ Japan and not the Japan of her normal days. The effect of that great change of 1867--I say "Great Change," because we do not like to apply the term "revolution"--has been subsiding for many years, and now Japan is fast returning to her normal state. I am, therefore, not at all pessimistic in regard to the future of our national life, though the author may be.'

--'And besides,' interposed the duchess, 'foreigners themselves are also spoiling your manners, according to your remarks which I read in one of the English periodicals you gave me. Dulcy, will you bring the English periodical I mean? It is on the small table in my boudoir: I should like to read it once more.'

In a few moments the periodical in question was brought by Lady Dulciana. The duchess took it in her hand, saying, 'Here are the baron's remarks. Listen, I will read aloud.' She read as follows:--

'OCCIDENTAL CIVILISATION IN JAPAN

'"Do you really think," I asked, "that, generally speaking,
occidental civilisation is beneficial to Japan?"

'"Well," slowly replied the baron, "that is a question which
requires very careful answering. I am certainly of opinion that,
from the purely material point of view, this invasion of Western
thought and methods has done us the greatest possible good. I refer
especially, of course, to science and mechanics. And as to the
mental part of it, the influence also is distinctly good--but
still, is not so beneficial as from the material point of view.

'"Remember that for centuries we have had our own way of thinking
and reasoning, and so, to a great extent, we are not convinced by
Western thought. We keep to our old ways, to our old methods,
though the trend of our ideas is slightly altered by European
thought. Let me give you an illustration of what I mean, for it is
rather a difficult point to explain. For instance, we have always
been humane and charitable to our fellow-creatures, but in the old
days there was no form of public charity. It was not much needed,
as a matter of fact, but now you will find that we are everywhere
establishing hospitals on the European system. So you see only the
old mode of our charity is changed. It is rather a delicate point
to say how far Western thought has impregnated our own. The
opinions of Darwin, Huxley, and Spencer, as well as the views of
Catholic and Protestant Missions, are spread all over Japan; but
our ethical sense is such that it does not allow us easily to adopt
the dogmatic points of foreign religions, and though many Japanese
have adopted Christianity, yet they are, after all, in a vast
minority. But that does not signify that we are averse to religion;
on the contrary, I am glad to say we extend the greatest tolerance
to all kinds of religionists. I am not a Christian myself, but I
know, perhaps, more of the essence of Christianity than some of my
fellow-countrymen who profess it, for I had to study the Greek
Testament in my Cambridge days. I am always amused when the people
here imagine I know nothing about that religion. The Missionary
question is always a very delicate one. I am sure missionaries mean
well, but sometimes they are very indiscreet. For instance, Miss
M'Caul, writing the other day from the front, says that one of her
escorts was a Japanese lady of position, who had been specially
attached to her by the Japanese Government. One day a missionary
went up to this lady and asked her if she was married. 'Oh yes,'
she replied, 'and I have three children.' 'But were you married in
church?' 'No,' 'Then, of course, you are not really married!' Well
such narrow minds do real harm. The missionary did not mean to be
offensive, but as your proverb has it--'Evil is often wrought by
want of thought.'"

'"Has Occidentalism spoiled your art, baron, do you think?"

'"To a certain extent the Western civilisation has damaged the
artistic side of our life. I don't think that your oil-paintings
will ever supersede our own light sketches. Our houses are not made
for elaborate picture frames, and the price of your pictures is
much greater than the price of ours. And why should we pay a large
sum when we can get as much happiness and pleasure for a small sum?
But undoubtedly the European style is influencing ours, as ours is
influencing yours. Although our pictures, as a rule, are excellent
on the side of idealism, they are very often defective from a
technical point of view. Our perspective can certainly be improved
by the European method. Some people are of opinion that European
methods will spoil our characteristics. But in my opinion it will
be so only while the artists are in a transitory state; if they
excel they will be all right. I don't see any reason to reject that
kind of improvement. Let me give you a plain and simple example of
what I mean. Take that square box, for instance. Now, a Japanese
artist, owing to his inefficiency in perspective, would so draw it
as to make it appear triangular; well, what harm could be done by
showing him how to draw it properly.

'"The people generally move with the upper classes, and all our
upper classes in Japan are in favour of Western modes of thought
and life. People generally are delighted with the Westernisation of
Japan, and especially grateful for the improvement in political and
civic conditions. We have now the representative system in
Parliament; our Courts of Law are modelled on yours; and alas! the
increase of Courts has increased litigation, yet justice can be
obtained, and appeal can be made against injustice, easier than
under the old feudal system. The general condition of the lower
classes is far better than in the days of the feudal daimios. Then
every locality differed. In some places, if the daimio was a good
man, the poor were happy; in others they were less happy, but on
the whole there was not extreme poverty. The same condition is
continued and somewhat improved. I fear, however, that the relative
position of the poor has a tendency to degenerate as in Europe."

'THE STANDARD OF LIVING

'"Are the people generally better off as regards money?"

'"Well, they make more money, but £10 now is only equal to £1, or
less, in the old days. But one thing is certain, they have better
food. There is one thing, however, in which Western methods have
not benefited us--the demarcation between rich and poor is becoming
more marked with the new civilisation. And that is a bad sign,
though it can't be helped. Education, I am glad to say, is much
more general than it was. In former days the Samurai class were
well educated, and there were several very good schools, but
education was not so general as it is now, when every community has
its elementary schools, although we are still far from well off in
the way of universities. However, they will come."

'"In speaking to me of the new civilisation, for which he is mainly
responsible, the Marquis Ito told me he was afraid that the
reverence of the young for the old, and of children for their
parents, which was so much a feature of old Japan, appeared to be
dying out."

'"I quite agree with him," replied the baron, "and if the
individualistic ideas of Western nations continue to increase in
Japan, the old family feeling of reverence is sure to decline. That
is our great problem of the future. Young Japan in some ways is
departing from the ways of its ancestors, and it is a thing to be
very greatly feared and deplored."

'"Do you think that, speaking generally, character is improved in
Japan by the Western influence?"

'"Speaking of individuals," replied my host, with great vehemence,
"no, it is not. On the contrary, I notice great deterioration from
association with foreigners. Take, for instance, our ports, where
there are mainly houses of ill-fame, mainly supported by European
sailors, who have introduced vices and vulgarities of which old
Japan was absolutely ignorant. But, of course, I do not consider
that the Western influence is wholly bad merely because certain
very low-class foreigners come to our country and behave badly. The
general good of the community has been greatly advanced by our
contact with the West. Trades-unions, for instance, and the
formation of great business companies, which were quite unknown in
the old days, have helped greatly to raise the commerical status of
our people, both employers and employed. You ask me as to
individual morality under modern influences. Well, it is difficult
to define. On the whole, I think the morality of the individual was
higher in the old days, because those days were more simple and the
community was more sober. The more primitive a land is, the better
it is morally. But I fear we must move with modern times."

'"And which do you prefer--the quiet feudal days of old Japan, or
the modern push and worry and hustle and bustle?"

'"It all depends on the point of view," was my host's reply.
"Competition with the world is absolutely necessary. But there were
many good points about the old days. Although they involved a
régime of restriction and there was very little chance of
individual development (though not so little as Lafcadio Hearn
would make out), men of ability could always push their way to the
front even in the days of feudalism."

'"The Marquis Ito, for instance?"

'"Don't speak of him. He, Marquis Yamagata, and many others, have
arisen from an obscure position, but, they belong more to our own
time, I am speaking of older days. Take, for instance, Arai
Hakuseki, who, born in humble circumstances, became the chief
adviser of the Shogun. Many a farmer's son who joined the
priesthood rose to greater power and position than that of a
middle-class daimio."

'"And do you think that the general level of happiness in Japan is
as high as it was in the old days of romance?"

'"Yes," smiled the baron. "But people were happy in former days
because they did not know what freedom meant, still less the
enjoyment of the luxuries to which they are now accustomed. To them
ignorance was literally bliss. But the idea of happiness nowadays
differs in kind and character, and it is difficult to say if modern
Japan is as happy as the ancient Japan. One thing, I hope, will
always remain with us, and that is our patriotism and loyalty. A
country is in a good way which puts loyalty to the sovereign and
love of country before all private and meaner considerations."'

Finishing the reading, the duchess continued, 'I suppose you are correctly reported?'

--'Yes, in the main,' I answered.

--'I was reading,' said the duchess, 'the other day, the chapter on Japan in the _Far East_, by Archibald Little, just issued from the Clarendon Press, which, I think, is the best topographical description of Japan written in a popular style. In it I came across a passage to this effect:

'Whether increased intercourse with the essentially vulgar West
will, as many well-wishers fear, at the same time destroy the old
simplicity of living, the future will show.

'The Occidentals seem to have begun to perceive vulgarity in things European. There is really vulgarity in many things, I fear. But, baron, had you any particular idea when you spoke about the vulgarity introduced into your open ports?'

--'I am afraid not,' I answered; 'it would be difficult for me to explain it to you, and you would not appreciate it if I did. Look! the last ray of the sun is glittering in the foliage. Time has flown wonderfully quick: I must say _au revoir_'