Chapter V

Some observations on peace prospects--Discussion on Anglo-French-Russo-Japanese _entente_--Russian views of the Japanese--Discussion on religion and Japan--Japan and the International Conventions--The meaning of religion--General Nogi--A high-priest on Japan and Russia--The Japanese conception of death--A quotation from an old book on Bushido--The notion of the name--Further remarks on the Russian views of the Japanese--England and America--The outbreak of the war--A wanton project of the Russian admiral restrained by the French admiral--Discussion on the Yellow Peril and Pan-Asiatic ambition--Japan not a small country--French poor in the caves--Paris by night--Sir Stamford Raffles and his appreciation of Japan ninety years ago --Patriotism and France--_La France, c'est le pays de mon cœur_--A romantic and tragical story--Discussion on Socialism and Japan--England and America--Discussion on the word 'Revolution'--The Great Change of Japan in 1867--Its political and social effects--A comparison with the French Revolution--Discussion on unity and continuity of authority--An anonymous pamphlet--Discussion on the relative position of the French Nationalists and Socialists with regard to Japan--French thrift

I was once more partaking of tea _en famille_ in the Duchess of Fairfield's garden. She, like myself, prefers to be unceremonious, as there is then so much more possibility of a quiet conversation.

--'What do you think of the prospect of peace?' said the duke. 'The war must surely now cease.'

--'Yes, I should think so too,' I replied. 'Enough blood has already been shed; but, you know, our opponents are such that they do not see things in the same light as other people.'

--'But they must do so now,' was the reply. 'Every one has known for a long time that it is of no use for them to carry on the war. The issue is clear.'

--'Well, we shall see what will happen.'

--'The justice of the cause and the singleness of the aim of Japan are now widely recognised by the thinking people of the whole world,' said the duchess, 'and the part you have played in it is not small.'

--'I thank you very much for your sympathetic words,' I answered. 'On the morrow of the battle of Tsu-shima I received a telegram from a well-known English writer in which he congratulated me on the brilliant victory, as he said, of our fleets, adding thereto "only equalled by your success in Europe." That that victory was brilliant I cannot deny, though the honour belongs to my own country, but as to the part of the telegram concerning myself, it is an exaggeration. The only thing which is true, however, is that I have worked hard all this time--I may say, harder than I have in all my life. I have done so, as every Japanese ought to do, having in view the fact that my fatherland has been engaged in the most gigantic struggle since the famous invasion of the Mongolian Armada, or even more momentous than that. I merely mention this incident to you because you are so sympathetic: I have never told it to any one else.'

--'I can quite understand your feelings,' said the duchess, and continued after a little pause--

'The whole world knows the chivalrous character of the Japanese. Remember, however, I am a friend of Russia, and that is the reason why I am all the more anxious that Russia should recognise the situation as it is.'

--'Yes, I know your views very well. There are many Frenchmen who hold similar views. Some of them sincerely wished to save the Baltic Fleet and advocated peace, as they were sure all the ships would go to the bottom of the sea if they ventured to the Far East, which would leave the Baltic defenceless, and would thus deprive France of the usefulness of the Dual Alliance. But those friendly counsels were not heeded by the Russians; on the contrary, as you know, some insinuations were made regarding the press which had published them. We have a saying: "Good medicine is bitter to the mouth, and faithful counsel is averse to the ear." This is a case in point.'

--'It is often so, I fear,' said the duke. 'But, baron, I must now leave you. I have an engagement to-day, and have to take my daughters with me. The duchess studies diplomacy and politics more than I, so please stay and talk with her.'

The Duke of Fairfield is a typical aristocrat: although not a great talker, he is eminently sensible, unostentatious, and dignified. France of to-day is not for the aristocracy, but the duke is resigned to the circumstance. He has always been as cordial and kind to me as the other members of his family. He now left the duchess and me to our conversation, and went out with his two daughters.

--'I am an advocate of an _entente_ Anglo-French as well as Russo-Japanese: we all four ought to keep on well together, that you know very well,' said the duchess. 'Of course I do not sympathise with the way in which the Russian bureaucracy carries on the administration of that country: that is understood. But what is your opinion of the Russians in general? Do you think you can ever be friendly with them?'

--'Yes, I think so: on our part there is no reason why we should not be friendly with the Russians. I can even say we like them individually. But, you see, they have some deep-rooted prejudices against us which stand in the way. Only some weeks ago, I read a letter written and widely circulated by Countess Sophie, the wife of Count Leo Tolstoy. She is an advocate of peace, and abhors war in general, as does her husband. We have no objection to her, so far as her conviction is concerned regarding war, but in that letter she is pleased to write:

'A spiritually undeveloped, unchristian nation, such as the
Japanese, is bound to conquer, for among them is rife the principle
of patriotism, which is opposed to the Christian principle of love
to one's neighbour, and, therefore, of aversion to war. Russians
have not yet grown to this stage, but they are on the way to it.

'You see, the countess says we are not Christians, and therefore cannot love our neighbours: it is a calumny. The great bulk of the Japanese are not Christians in religion, it is true, but we know how to love our neighbours all the same. It is a point of our ethics. For all that, we cannot give up our patriotism. Patriotism is not irreconcilable with the love of one's neighbour. If Christianity is such as the countess represents it to be, then I am fain to think that the less it influences our people the better. Besides, to say that the Russians are defeated by the Japanese because they love their neighbours more than the Japanese do theirs, is a proposition which, however religious it may be, cannot convince us in the least degree.'

--'Neither does it give me a shadow of conviction,' said the duchess. 'On the contrary, I know that intense belief in Christianity has often produced the best soldiers. Think of the Spanish army of Charles V., for instance. They were intensely religious, and at the same time intensely patriotic, and fought well. People often say the Japanese have no religion, but I do not believe it. They have a religion unique to themselves.'

--'Such views as those of the countess,' said I, 'are entertained not only by women like herself, but even by serious men, holding high positions. Only in the autumn of last year, a letter from one who signed himself "A Russian Statesman," and spoken of by the Editor as "A prominent Russian statesman, about whose love of peace there is no doubt," appeared in the _Deutsche Revue_, stating Russian views which to our eyes were of the most fantastic character. My answer to it was published in the same _Revue_, when the writer retaliated by another letter expounding notions even more extraordinary. I answered him once more, and there the matter ended. In the course of the controversy he spoke of the difference between the Russian religious views of life and those of the Japanese, and insinuated that our conception of justice and morality was inferior to that of his country. He abused our law-courts and legislation. Fancy! a Russian statesman boasting of the matters relating to laws.

'He even went on to say,' I continued, 'that Japan has not been doing her duty according to the Convention agreed upon at The Hague Conference, whereas Russia (according to his view) had been doing hers for months. But the truth is, Japan has been most scrupulous in those matters from the very beginning of the war; the prisoners' treatment regulations were promulgated within a week's time after the outbreak of the war, and the Prisoners' Intelligence Board was instituted seven days later. The whole world knows the excellent working of the Japanese Red Cross Society, and, I may add, the defectiveness of Russia in similar respects. Yet the so-called Russian statesman can make an assertion of this kind, not in his own country, but in a foreign press, unchecked. His statement regarding the difference in moral thought, and cognate subjects, may be partly due to some political motive, but the fact remains that he circulates false ideas.'

--'I, for one, agree with you that the charge is certainly unfair,' said the duchess, 'and besides, I repeat I do not agree with those who say that the Japanese have no religion. The very ideals which they hold up as models for their soldiers cannot but be a religion, as I said the other day. What does a "religion" mean? It means a conscientious preparedness and practice for the suppression of one's lower nature. Man has all sorts of wishes and desires, temptations and tendencies, which the experience of generations knows must be restrained. Wisdom comes in and teaches him to control such weakness, and the teaching, if systematised at all, becomes a "religion," a cult, if one prefers to call it by that appellation. For instance, man likes to live (what creature likes to die if left to his natural desire), and if he prefers to give up his life for some ideal, is it not an act of self-repression, or indeed of self-sacrifice, and if it forms a characteristic of a nation, does it not become the "religion" of that nation? Some say the Japanese despise life, because they like death for its own sake: I call that a nonsensical observation. On the contrary, I see a religion in the very fact of the Japanese being so patriotic as to so cheerfully sacrifice their lives for their country and for their emperor. A remark which I have read in a paper as having been uttered by General Nogi certainly contains, to my idea, a strong religious strain. It was:

'"Now that my two sons have sacrificed their lives and I am a
childless man, I may with an easier conscience face the parents of
those thousands of young men who have likewise offered up their
lives under my command."

'The expression may be simple,' continued the duchess, 'but nevertheless, it is possible to discern in it a touch of feeling, which to me has a strong religious element. In truth, I must confess that I have noticed more deeds worthy of religion manifested by your country than any nation professing a religion can lay claim to. Some time ago, a priest of very high standing returned from the Far East. He made an application while out there to be allowed to visit the Russian prisoners in order to see how they were treated by the Japanese authorities. He got the permission at once, and saw everything, to his great personal satisfaction. He then made a similar application to the Russian authorities, but was refused. He had some ground to suspect that the Russian treatment of the prisoners was not quite satisfactory. To begin with, he said, Japan, who is not our ally, had given him every facility, and Russia, who is, refused to do so. He almost wept at the thought that a non-Christian nation had more of the essence of a religion than another who professed Christianity. I should not have told you all this, were I not moved by the current of events, which have left a deep impression on my mind. I have no thoughts of being unfriendly to Russia, but I cannot help appreciating Japan all the same.'

--'I thank you very much,' I said.

--'I know the horror of war very well,' continued the duchess, 'and what lamentable incidents occur when the wild, warlike spirit prevails. During our last great war, I was but a girl of thirteen, and I was naturally with my mother. We had to quarter the wounded; I remember how I used to carry about a small table from one to another, writing short notes for them. Little as I was, many awful tales reached my ear during that war, wherein our priests, and our women too, were sufferers. I can never forget them. Compared to it the present war is a lesson; the so-called civilised world has to learn much from the Japanese, not only on points of courage and devotion, but also in regard to _morale_.'

A little pause, and the duchess went on--

--'Stoical imperturbability appears to be a marked feature in your heroes. There are many people who have seen the character of the Japanese in many lights and appreciate it, and yet are unable to perceive their feelings, or I might rather say, sentimental qualities. They are curious to know if the Japanese nature is much developed in that respect.'

--'Well, I can tell you, as far as I may be permitted to judge my own countrymen, we have much feeling and sentimental elements. At the very bottom of the stoicism of Bushi there flows hidden streams of feeling and sentimentality, often imperceptible to the onlooker. In one way, I am of opinion that our heart is filled with even too much feeling and sentimentality, and I am inclined to believe it is our weak point, for feeling and sentimentality are often accompanied by over-scrupulousness and over-sensitiveness, and with us this disposition exercises much influence, not only in our private affairs, but also in politics and diplomacy. In this world, in which some people say that politics, still more international diplomacy, knows not morality, the fact that we are so scrupulous often hinders our politics and diplomacy, and yet we do not regret it, for the time may come when the just traits of our character will be discovered by the world at large, and receive its approval.'

--'You are,' said the duchess, 'well acquainted with our common saying, "Honesty is the best policy," and my earnest hope is that your country will never imitate some of the European politics. But, baron, let me ask another question: Granted that the moral and ethical training of Japan is a religion, as I do, yet I cannot entirely see how that training could have been instilled in the minds of millions of men so deeply. When one hears of thousands rushing on to certain death at a word of command (as we have often heard of the Japanese troops), one is almost tempted to think there may be something in it which promises a reward in the future life for such a death, as is the case with the Mohammedan creed; but I understand that there is nothing of the sort in your training, and that the fact of your soldiers being so fearless of death has nothing to do with religion in its ordinarily accepted sense. I can very well imagine that this or that group of honourable men, picked out of multitudes, could be of that type, but it almost amazes me when we see hundreds of thousands of men, one and all, being animated by the same spirit, without any exception.'

--'I cannot,' I answered, 'profess that every man of our troops is so high-minded as you say, or at least, I cannot say so myself, being Japanese; but assuming it to be the case, the kind of doubt to which you give expression is entertained by many Occidentals, and questions to that effect have often been put to me. I can, however, give no other answer than to repeat that there is no such religious belief in our case, as there is in Mohammedanism. In Europe one often engages in a deadly duel on account of some dispute, sometimes for public reasons, but often for other reasons which do not appear commendable to outsiders: those who fight surely do not risk their lives from any religious belief in their cause. They do so because, as far as they themselves are concerned, a consideration of honour demands. This sentiment is exactly similar to our sense of honour, only in our case we have, perhaps, made it more rational and more general. To attain this ideal, a long training and preparation is necessary, but when once attained, there is nothing to wonder at. If one imagined that a man killed in a duel on account of a quarrel over a woman sacrificed his life because he believed he would be happy in a future life,--if he died in that fashion, every one else would laugh at him. Why, then, is there anything to wonder at when we say that we Japanese can be fearless of death without connecting it with a religious belief of the future life, for a cause which is far nobler than that of the ordinary Western custom of sacrificing one's life in a duel. The _morale_ of our troops is the result purely of ordinary ethical training and diffusion of national traditions. Loyalty and patriotism are the highest ideals of the Japanese nation. Japanese ethics have taught for centuries how to die an honourable death, and yet one must not think that Japanese ethics teach only how to die: they also teach how to live.'

--'What do you mean by that?'

--'I mean to say, in Bushido, death was not valued for its own sake, even in a battle, for if one died a useless or dishonourable death, it was called a dog's death, which, of course, is a term of contempt. We still have the same notion of death. In a book on Bushido, entitled _Chiku-ba-sho_, written in the fourteenth century A.D., by Shiwa-Yoshimasa, as I mentioned the other day, we have in the very opening page, as follows:

'Men who handle bows and arrows [military men] should do their
part, thinking not only of their own persons, but of the names of
their descendants. They should not incur a perpetually irksome name
[permanent bad reputation] on account of a greed for life, which is
after all of short duration. But, on the other hand, if they cast
away their lives when they ought not to die, they will also incur a
discreditable name. The chief point is that life should be
sacrificed when it is honourable to do so, in behalf of the supreme
lord [the emperor], or on account of an affair which is of great
importance to the generalissimo of their bows and arrows [the
Shogun]. Only by thus behaving can the famous names of the
descendants be secured and perpetuated. As a Bushi, one should
never be light-minded; on the contrary, he should always be
thoughtful and meditative. The majority of men pass their time
saying they would behave aptly when time and circumstances
requiring it arrive. Such people generally experience great
difficulty when any emergency unexpectedly arises, and generally
regret afterwards that they had missed the opportunity when they
ought to have died. The training of the mind of the best
bow-handlers [warriors] and of Buddhists is said to be identical.
In all cases, restlessness of mind is deplorable.'

--'The term "name" plays a great part in your ethical notions, as I see from the quotation you have just given,' said the duchess. 'You yourself have also spoken about it in your peroration to the article on Japanese education, which you published in the _Independent Review_. I was reading that article this very morning, and had intended to ask you for a further explanation about it, but I think I have now caught the idea, though it is somewhat vague to me still. The idea of doing one's part, thinking of the names of one's descendants, as the book you have just quoted speaks about, sounds somewhat odd to our ears. It will be always puzzling to the generality of the Occidentals.'

--'Why so,' I answered; 'you Occidentals seem always to make simple matters difficult to comprehend, when they would be quite clear if only viewed in a light, not deep, philosophical manner. The spirit of the dictum I have just quoted has always been maintained in our ethics, under all circumstances. As you say, no human creature can love death; it is against nature, and, therefore, we Japanese value life no less than other races; but we study how to live and how to die, and when circumstances require, we value our life lighter than the proverbial feather: that's all.'

--'And yet it is a problem for us,' said the duchess.

--'And it is plain to us who have grown up in such an atmosphere, although it may be somewhat difficult for foreigners to understand.'

--'Do you think those noble characteristics will last long under the influence of modern civilisation?' asked the duchess.

--'It is a question,' I answered, 'but I hope and believe it will last; indeed, we must make it do so.'

--'But now, to take up the thread of our original conversation,' said the duchess. 'Politically speaking, I am of the opinion that Russia ought to make friends with you, and that my long, endearing hope for an _entente_ between England, France, Russia, and your country ought to be effected for the security of peace at large and for the benefit of humanity.'

--'I appreciate,' I answered, 'the general trend of your discourse, and I know it has been your line of politics for many years, and not a view invented merely to please me. I sympathise with you all the more when I hear you confessing the weak points of an ally and paying high tribute to my country. The time may come when your cherished idea may be realised, but at present the prospects do not look bright. The greatest obstacle in the path is the pretensions of the Russians. They will not reconcile themselves to the idea that we Japanese are also a nation which deserves the name of a civilised race.'

--'They will and must do so in time,' said the duchess.

--'We Japanese are modest. We do not give ourselves airs. I say this frankly and sincerely. It is neither presumption nor self-conceit, it is my pure conviction; but we like to be treated with proper consideration. A few days ago an interview which I gave to a French weekly was published. The subject was somewhat akin to our present conversation. A telegram from Washington, which was published in some journals, stated that the Russians in America were irritated because President Roosevelt had given an informal reception to Baron Komura. It also stated that the Russians were inspiring the impression that Mr. Roosevelt was annoyed with Great Britain because she had refused to put pressure on Japan to be moderate, and so on. The gist of my observation on the telegram was:--

'It was understood that the plenipotentiaries of both countries
should arrive in Washington before the first part of August. The
Japanese plenipotentiaries arrived punctually at the prearranged
date, but the Russian plenipotentiaries were belated, as we all
know, and yet complaints are made that it was Mr. Roosevelt's
partiality towards Japan which made him receive the Japanese
plenipotentiaries informally. I cannot see why the president should
not offer cordiality to his distinguished guests, be they Japanese
or Russian, on their arrival. England is not less anxious to see
the termination of the present war than any other nation, but I do
not see why England should put pressure upon Japan to give
advantage to Russia, inasmuch as she knows that Japan is not a
nation to make any unreasonable demand upon her worsted foe.
President Roosevelt knows all this. I also believe that while the
president is determined to be quite impartial in the matter, he is
not inclined to oppress Japan in order to give any unreasonable
advantage to Russia, nor does he expect to see England do so
either.

--'You see, such sentiments as those expressed in the telegram, which I do not consider a misrepresentation, cannot but arise from some idea of prestige, with which the Russians imagine they have been endowed to a much higher degree by nature than Japan has been. There is another point they have made a great deal of fuss about, and which they cannot get out of their heads. It is the first torpedoing of the Russian fleets at the entrance of Port Arthur, which took place, as you know, on the night of the 8-9th of February last year. They always speak of it as a treacherous attack. As a matter of fact, however, it was nothing of the sort, as may be seen from all the circumstances which forced us into the war, and which are known to all the world. Our justification has become more evident since the revelation of the secret history of the Russian politics of the time. There even exists a secret treaty between China and Russia, made at the time when Russia obtained a concession from China for the construction of the Manchurian railways. The purport of the treaty, which is now no longer a secret, is no other than that Russia and China were to regard Japan as their enemy, and to menace her by the use of that railway. China soon discovered the fallacy: she soon saw that Japan had not the disposition represented by the Russians. Russia would perhaps now say that the treaty was only made for the purpose of obtaining the concession: I hope it was so, but who knows that it had been so from the beginning? In spite of all this, Japan had always adopted a conciliatory attitude before the outbreak of the war--a war in which, to use a phrase of President Roosevelt's memorable message to the American Congress, "it was necessary for the aggrieved nation valiantly to stand up for its rights." Remember, I do not quote this in any vainglory. Moreover, when the war became inevitable, we gave a clear notice of war to our opponents (on the 6th of that month). Perhaps you have seen the White Book of Japan relating to the subject.'

--'I saw a French translation of it,' said the duchess, 'and it has modified considerably the early impressions, not only of myself, but of most people.'

--'I am glad of that,' I said. 'It is true that the Emperor of Japan issued on the 10th of that month a formal declaration of war, but it was addressed to his own subjects, and its aim was to make the actual situation known to them and also indirectly to the neutrals. As far as Russia and Japan are concerned, the notice of the 6th, whereby Japan announced to Russia that she would take an "independent action," was nothing else than a declaration of war. It is, therefore, unfair to state that the first attack on Port Arthur was a "treacherous attack" or "an attack by surprise," even if there were no other reasons which justify Japan's action.'

--'And yet the Russian statesman, for instance, wrote in the same remarkable letters that "the whole world knows that Japan and not Russia has provoked the present war," and spoke of Japan, in reference to the first battle of Port Arthur, as "guilty of a criminal breach of peace," and of that battle as a "piratical night attack." He went on so far as to stigmatise Japan as "this bullying and bellicose nation." It is the more remarkable that all this had been done after the plain facts of the truth had come into the possession of the world. In the course of my refutation I stated that torpedoing was not a surprise attack in the sense of International Law, as the Russian statesman affirms; at the most it could only be construed as a tactical surprise, but in reality it was not even of that nature. I gave my reason therefor, to which the Russian statesman replied, that "a Japanese is the only person who can make any difference between a surprise and a tactical surprise, and no educated European can make such a difference." The difference itself is plain enough. Tactical surprises come under no sphere of international question. The Russian troops themselves are daily practising them in the war. In spite of it, he feigns his ignorance. In my reply I had to detail and to develop my argument a step further. If you are not already wearied, I will recall a passage of my letter in question:

'With regard to the Port Arthur question, I should like in the
first place to ask the Russian statesman as to what Russia herself
did in all warlike engagements before the battle of Narva, and also
when the army of his country entered Poland in 1733; when it
entered Moldavia and took possession of Chotsin, Bender, and Jassi
in 1806; when the Russian ships fired into, and sunk or captured,
some Greek ships and made an attack upon Poros in 1831? Further,
how was it when the Russian troops made raids on the coasts of the
northern islands of Japan unexpectedly and repeatedly in the
beginning of the nineteenth century, on which occasions they
slaughtered our innocent villagers and burned our villages, or when
they attacked and occupied our Island of Tsushima in 1861?--in all
these cases there having been no cause or reason whatever for the
hostility perpetrated, and that, too, without the slightest
warning. Above all, I should like to call his attention to the
proposal which his country made through its ambassador, Baron
Brunnow, to the Diplomatique Corps of the Great Powers at
Constantinople in 1840, concerning Egypt. The Russian ambassador
offered various schemes for action, the pith of which was to be
found in the following words:

'"To execute all these measures with the greatest promptitude, and
with the greatest secrecy,--promptitude, because it is the only
means of ensuring their success; secrecy, because the blow must
first be struck before it is announced."'

Having read so far, I continued: 'After I had thus written, I proceeded to elucidate that, "with these facts in view, the Russians had no right to calumniate Japan, even if their country were attacked by surprise," and that, "nevertheless, Japan had done nothing of the sort, as is plain from other facts." Such is the case on our side.'

--'That point is now wholly cleared up in the eyes of the world,' said the duchess. 'The Russians certainly ought not to grumble endlessly over the milk which they themselves spilled!'

--'I may remind you of a still more fresh instance of the unscrupulousness of the Russians themselves. At the time of the ratification of the treaty of Simonoseki, did not the Russian admiral commanding the Pacific fleet propose to the French admiral commanding the French fleet in the same water to attack and destroy the Japanese fleet by a deliberate surprise! Was it not only restrained from being carried out by the judicious refusal of the French admiral on the ground that he had received no such instruction from his government! We cannot, of course, be thankful to France for joining the memorable combination of the three powers, but we remember with pleasant recollection the noble determination of her admiral.'

--'Thank God! our action was correct, at least in that respect.'

--'You must be quite sickened,' I said, 'of the hackneyed talk of the "Yellow Peril" cry, and the "Pan-Asiatic" ambition attributed to Japan, because you know they are all groundless. The same Russian statesman dilated on them also: if he really entertains any belief in them his conception is erroneous; if he does not, and still says so, it is most unfair. I assured him that Japan knew no such ambition, and gave vent to my conviction in this manner. I hope you will kindly listen to me.

'There is no possibility of "Panasianism" even if Japan had dreamed
of it, nor is there any likelihood of the Western powers being
endangered by the ascendency of Japan. The insinuation of your
writer that the English and American commerce would be jeopardised
by Japan's victory, and, therefore, Japan ought to be thoroughly
defeated, is a most absurd proposition. To begin with, Japan's
victory would never prejudice the commercial interests of those
countries; on the contrary, they would be more safeguarded. But
suppose it did, it would be for England and America to look after
those matters before the Russians did for them. England and
America, however, are amongst those countries which are most
sympathetic with Japan. I can put it in another way. Suppose, after
Japan's success in this war, Japan's industry should be more
developed, it would only serve more to stimulate the commerce
between the East and West. Supposing, however, that the development
of Japan's industry be more or less detrimental to the Western
commerce, is it just and humane--let me repeat, is it just and
humane, to formulate a doctrine that she is to be crushed because
there is a fear that her industry might be developed? It would be
like a rich person formulating the doctrine that a poor neighbour
of his ought to be murdered for no other reason than a vague
apprehension that he might possibly become a prosperous man.

'That is what I answered the Russian statesman. But even at this moment such speculative opinions are widespread. I can only hope that Japan's real motive and aspiration for emulating occidental civilisation is now becoming better known to the Western nations, at all events to the bulk of the French people.'

--'I believe so, too,' said the duchess. 'But one thing which strikes me is that, while on the one hand many people depict Japan by her huge shadow, even a greater number of people speak of Japan as a small country, as though she were no more than Belgium, Holland, or Denmark. A country which competes with the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, France, or even Germany, in the size of her territory and number of population, cannot be a small country.'

--'It is perhaps because we Japanese do not parade ourselves. We prefer to speak of ourselves as small in deference to the modern civilisation of the Western nations. Besides, we are not so wealthy as the occidental nations. We always feel it. It often prevents us from doing better things.'

--'But your country is not poor.'

--'We are not poor. I am only speaking comparatively with the great powers of the West. The volume of our commerce has risen from a few millions to six or seven hundred million yens in less than forty years. In a way we ought to be satisfied.'

--'I suppose the people are happy.'

--'Well, I may say so. We have no very rich classes, but at the same time we have no extreme poverty as yet. Only the other evening a compatriot of mine who had travelled in the country near Tours told me that the common people there lived in small caves in the cliffs, or on the slopes of the hills, and they were all barefooted when they were at home, or were at work in the vintage. I hear there are many such in Britain also. It sounds rather odd for France. And more! Paris is a wonderful town. It is a place of the agglomeration of everything extreme. A little time ago, accompanied by a few Frenchmen, I made a round of visits to all sorts of places through the whole night in order to see Paris by night. I saw many night shows to begin with: I saw many gay places: I saw several dens of the poor. Among the shows, that of Niente struck me most. It seemed so strange to entertain visitors with beer at tables which are coffins, and in a room lighted by a chandelier constructed of human bones. A small cave tavern made right in the ground, where the poor were enjoying bocks of beer, and listening to some indifferent musical performance, was also interesting. I asked from where they got the air into the place. The answer was "nowhere." But what impressed me most was a den of the destitute, where the poor get permission to sleep for one night, and to receive a basin of soup, at a total cost of twopence. When I visited the dens, it was far on in the night. I saw some four or five hundred men, clad in rags most of them, leaning on tables, asleep, in different cellars connected by narrow passages, right deep in the ground. Naturally also many were lying on the ground, and several on the stone staircases. These cellars could not have been made for such a purpose, and I was unable to divine for what they had been originally used. Perhaps they had been the cellars of some great wine merchant. I don't think you yourself can have seen such a place, but you can imagine the awfulness of the sight. Indeed, the French gentleman who was with me said he began to feel upset. I am happy to say that we have not such extreme cases of poverty in our country up to the present generation.'

--'I am afraid it is such cases as these that give good pretext to the socialistic movement,' said the duchess. 'It is a great problem. But to return to our subject, you have no embassy in Europe, as all other great powers have. You have only legations, with ordinary ministers, like secondary powers. It might have been one cause why ordinary people think Japan is such a small country.'

--'It may be so,' I answered, 'in one way; but you see we have not had any particular reason to make ourselves ostentatious, and besides, the matter does not rest with one side only.'

--'It is rather singular,' said the duchess, 'that the world has not discovered the real character of the Japanese for so long a time. But yet there was at least one man who realised it ninety years ago. I have read an account about him in a recent issue of the English press. It was in the year 1813, and, therefore, at the time when Java was under English occupation. Lord Minto (ancestor of the new viceroy) was then Viceroy of India, and it seems Sir Stamford Raffles was the chief representative of the British East India Company out in the East. The latter sent in that year an Englishman, Dr. Daniel Ainslie, to whom was attached a Dutchman, Wardenaar by name, to Nagasaki on a mission to look after English interests, and to make a confidential report on the situation in Japan. The mission was a failure; the time was not ripe enough. But the impression Sir Stamford obtained through Dr. Ainslie is interesting. It reads as fresh as though it had been brought back from Japan only yesterday, and speaks for itself:

'The refusal of the Japanese, instigated by the prejudiced and
stiff-necked Dutchman, Hendrik Doeff, to trade with the English,
did not bias Sir Stamford's mind against them. Dr. Ainslie, in whom
he had implicit confidence, sent him voluminous reports, and on
them he formed a judgment most favourable to the Japanese in every
respect. Expression was given to these opinions in Sir Stamford's
presidential address to the Batavian Society of Arts and Sciences
on September 11, 1815. The following extracts are those of the most
direct importance; "I need only offer a few notices on the
character which they appeared to Dr. Ainslie to display during a
residence of four months, and as far as he had the opportunity of
judging. They are represented to be a nervous, vigorous people,
whose bodily and mental powers assimilate much nearer to those of
Europe than what is attributed to Asiatics in general. Their
features are masculine and perfectly European, with the exception
of the small, lengthened Tartar eye, which almost universally
prevails, and is the only feature of resemblance between them and
the Chinese. The complexion is perfectly fair, and indeed blooming,
the women of the higher classes being equally fair with Europeans,
and having the bloom of health more generally prevalent among them
than is usually found in Europe. For a people who have had very
few, if any, external aids, the Japanese cannot but rank high in
the scale of civilisation....

'"The Chinese have been stationary, at least as long as we have
known them, but the slightest impulse seems sufficient to give a
determination to the Japanese character which would progressively
improve until it attained the same height of civilisation with the
European....

'"The Japanese, with an apparent coldness like the stillness of the
Spanish character, and derived nearly from the same causes--that
system of espionage and that principle of disunion dictated by the
principles of both Governments--are represented to be eager of
novelty and warm in their attachments, open to strangers, and,
hating the restrictions of their political institutions, a people
who seem inclined to throw themselves into the hands of any nation
of superior intelligence. They have, at the same time, a great
contempt and disregard of everything below their own standard of
morals and habits, as instanced in the case of the Chinese."

'These remarks, uttered ninety years ago, show that at least one
discerning mind had appreciated all the difference between the
Japanese and other Asiatics, judged according to the accepted views
among Europeans. It was the apathy of the home authorities that
alone prevented the establishment nearly a century ago of an
_entente cordiale_ between England and Japan as the consequence of
the strenuous effort of Sir Stamford Raffles to promote commercial
relations at Nagasaki.'

At this juncture the duke returned with his two daughters; joining us very soon, he said to me:

--'Have you noticed the controversy about French patriotism waging in the papers just now? I wish all Frenchmen were as patriotic as your countrymen.'

--'I have noticed,' I said, 'but I believe that whatever opinion one may entertain, or whatever views one may express, in the innermost shrine of the heart of every Frenchman there is treasured a phrase, "La France: c'est le pays de mon cœur." It cannot be otherwise.'

--'I hope so,' rejoined the duke. 'To love one's own country, which is patriotism, is almost a natural instinct. The only difference is the degree of intensity.'

--'Let me tell you,' I proceeded, 'how I came to remember that phrase, and excuse me if my talk is somewhat delicate. It is now more than twenty years ago, perhaps you remember, when a young cantatrice, together with her companion-maid, put an end to their lives, under romantic but tragic circumstances, beneath the windows of the chateau of a young foreign nobleman in his country. It created a great sensation at the time. I was then staying in England. She left a letter in which she expressed her desire that her _enfant d'amour_ should be brought up and educated in France, adding thereto the phrase I have just quoted. We have a saying, "Do not cast away good dictum on account of the person who uttered it." Those words--I mean "La France," etc.--though uttered by a female of her type, left a deep impression in my mind. They are so fine and touching. I dare say many a Frenchman has used, and still uses, that phrase, at least in his mind. _Apropos_ to that story, I will tell you an incident. Several years after that event I was in Japan, and dined one evening with some friends, the party including a few foreigners. There were no ladies present. As is usual, a good deal of merry chatting went on among us after dinner. On that occasion I narrated to them the story of the event just mentioned, and, of course, recalled that phrase to their remembrance. One of the foreigners suddenly said, "I was the man concerned in it--I was the man." You can imagine how awkward I felt. It is always necessary to be on one's guard in society. One never knows who a person may be. The incident, however, will serve to show how vividly the phrase remained in my memory.'

--'Now, baron,' interposed the duchess, 'permit me to ask you to explain a problem which I am unable to solve myself.'

--'What is it?' I replied. 'I am always ready to answer your questions as far as possible.'

--'The ideals as well as the whole structure, both political and social, of your country,' continued the duchess, 'seem to differ, as far as I can judge, from the ideals and doctrines of some of the Socialists of the West. According to these latter, there can be no patriotism, as the essence of their teaching is cosmopolite and not national, and there can be no such social and political structure as, for instance, those which your country adores. And yet, on the Continent, the Socialists are disposed to be more friendly to your country than the other sections of the communities. On your part, also, you appear to be more intimate, or at least more acquainted, with people belonging to that class. Excuse me if my remarks are too personal.'

--'I am not intimate,' I interposed, 'nor am I even acquainted with many. But please continue.'

--'Well, in England, for instance, it is the Conservatives who are more enthusiastic about your country, and the Liberals only rank second. I cannot make out how all that comes about on the Continent.'

--'I do not think English sympathy for Japan has anything to do with their home politics. Look at America! The form of the government and their political ideas are totally different from ours, and yet they have shown great sympathy to us, as you must have observed.'

--'American democracy, nevertheless, is more apparent than real,' said the duchess. 'Their methods are more monarchical than republican. When once a man is elected President, he is like a monarch. He has a wide scope for political movement in his hands. He chooses his ministers independently of the Congress, and the ministry is not dependent on the Congress; in other words, there is a concentration of power and also the continuity of it, though the person of the President may change after a certain lapse of time. Look at Mr. Roosevelt, what a position he occupies in his country.'

--'For all that,' I said, 'America is a republic. American sympathy for Japan cannot be explained by the theory you put upon the American polity. The sympathy of the Anglo-Saxons arises, in my opinion, chiefly from their perception of the justice of our cause, and from their appreciation of the humane and enlightened behaviour of the Japanese. This is my plain opinion. No one can fail to perceive a great contrast in these respects between the two countries engaged in the war. The sympathy of the European Socialists is somewhat similar, I believe. The conditions of Japan are much nearer to their own ideals than are those of our opponents.'

--'That is very likely,' said the duchess, 'but Japan as she is cannot be an ideal object of admiration to them; their sympathy appears only to be based on comparison. Why, there was even an assertion by some Socialists that Japan was liked only because the autocracy of the other side was disliked. By the bye, you said the other day, that you did not like to apply the term "revolution" to your great change of 1867.'

--'Yes, I said so.'

--'And I agree with you,' continued the duchess. '"Revolution" means upsetting and destroying everything, but you never had anything of that kind. Your emperor assumed a new authority, but it was only a restoration, or, in other words, unification of power; then, too, the sovereignty of his majesty's family is so antique that there is again a great continuity of power: those are the points which make Japan so fine a nation.

--'Well,' I continued, 'we do not like to apply the term "revolution" to our great change, because that term is usually applied to a big, popular movement against established governments, which, while destroying one, sets up another. That is to say, the term is generally used in a political sense. The history of our great change differs from that, because, although the Shogunate Government was upset, the other Government, namely, the Imperial, which was reinvigorated and had come to exercise again its full authority, had always existed, and the sovereignty had continued to rest with the heads of that Government, namely, the emperors; that you know very well. Nevertheless, with regard to the social aspects of the change, one cannot say there has been no upsetting of things. As a matter of fact, almost everything has been upset; restoration and innovation were the two currents of thought then prevailing. The main work was restoration, but almost everything else was innovation, or at least renovation. Hence, almost every institution and material object which was old was destroyed, or nearly destroyed, beyond all necessary limit, almost in the same way as was experienced by England under the Long Parliament, and France in 1789. I don't mean there was in Japan any such sanguinary deeds perpetrated as those by the Jacobins, but the general social currents of events were something like those of French and English experience. There was even a suggestion made by serious people of cutting down the big trees of a fine park in the middle of Tokio and turning it into mulberry fields, on the argument that the latter would be beneficial to the nation, whilst the former was a useless luxury. At one time, indeed, even the word civilisation was much abused: of course, not in such a way as Madame Roland lamented the abuse of the term "liberty," because our abuse of the word "civilisation" was neither political nor serious. It was chiefly so with small social matters. For instance, when one wished to dispense with some of the old customs and manners, which he deemed too rigid and inconvenient, he would cast them away light-heartedly, with the remark that "it was not a civilised method." Of course, a great change like the one we have made can only be carried out under such circumstances as those, accompanied necessarily by great sacrifices. Without doubt, it would not do if the same thing went on endlessly. Fortunately we have managed to tide over that transitory state, and have produced the Japan of the present day.'

--'Whatever may have been the social aspects of your great change,' said the duchess, 'one thing is undeniable, and that is, that its best results have been brought about by the unification and continuity of the _pouvoir_--I mean, authority. But by saying this, I must not be misunderstood, especially in this country, as saying that a continuity of authority is necessarily to be connected with heredity, for I maintain, for instance, that the Catholic religion is a specimen of continuity in the person of the Pope. But, baron, was there any outcry for "Liberté, Egalité, and Fraternité" at the time of your great change?'

--'No, not exactly,' I replied. 'Our struggle was not one of the lower classes _en masse_ against the upper classes. Besides, our lower classes were not in such a desperate condition as those of France in her troubled days.'

--'You know already,' proceeded the duchess, 'that those three terms contradict each other if carried out literally.'

--'That is true. But by similar reasoning, all terms of virtue are contradictory if carried out to the letter. Thus, the extremity of patience makes one a fool; that of bravery, foolhardy; that of charity, lavish; and that of extensive love of all things, makes one a sentimental weeper. Forgive me if I am a little polemic. However, there is one thing that I think I have not told you, and that is this: Although there was no definite cry for the three "té's" during our great change, some vague notion of them was observable during that event and some time after. It was during that transition period that the French notion of personal right based upon the civil law got into the Japanese mind a little too strongly in opposition to the idea of public laws based upon the principles of State and common good. Thus, for instance, a man did not scruple to cut down whatever forests belonged to him, no matter whether or not by doing so irreparable public injury should be occasioned; his notion being that his proprietary right of the forests stood over any other right. In other words, the notion of private laws was not reconciled with that of public laws. We have had to bring about an amelioration, and to enact fresh laws to regulate the forest question, much on the same lines as the old regulations which had previously existed in many parts of the country. There have been many other matters much similar to this. I may also add that proper respect between inferior and superior, and younger and elder, was also slackened at one time, which is a sort of misuse of equality and fraternity.

'But to return to our discourse: all the arguments I have heard from you to-day remind me of an anonymous political pamphlet which I happened to glance at. It speaks of the necessity of unification and continuation of authority. It speaks of the advisability of non-dependency of the Ministry on the Chamber, and it speaks of the self-contradiction of the three terms. I almost suspect that the writer of the pamphlet is influenced by you, or you by him, or is it a coincidence?'

--'No matter,' said the duchess lightly, and continued; 'I think there are no Socialists in Japan--at all events, not worth speaking of, as a party?'

--'Very true,' I interposed.

--'I thought so,' continued the duchess; 'Japan is not a country compatible with the ideas and doctrines of Socialism: she does not want it.'

--'And yet, some points of her aspirations,' I said, 'deserve attention. It is the duty of an enlightened Government to anticipate the legitimate requirements of the lower classes, and to make the spread of dangerous doctrines useless.'

--'And Japan does so, I suppose,' said the duchess.

--'Well, we are doing our best,' I answered, 'more especially because the introduction of Western methods of progress tend to produce all sorts of evils, though, of course, the benefit derived therefrom is comparatively far greater in its way.'

--'The freer a country is, the less it is likely to be disturbed by socialistic or nihilistic movements, you mean, I suppose,' said the duchess.

--'It is not all, but something like it,' I said. 'England and America are free from those movements.'

--'France is a free country,' said the duchess, 'and yet she labours under an overpowering influence of Socialism.'

--'It seems true,' I said.

--'You might say because she is too free, perhaps,' said the duchess.

--'Or, rather,' I replied, 'she might be paying the penalty incurred during the ancient monarchy of the misuse of its power.'

--'Maybe,' she answered. 'But I am far from believing in real power of that party. It is, of course, foolish to ignore an existence of such an element. They have, however, never been in office. Suppose they have formed a Government, what do you think will come out of it? At all events, I can never agree with some of their extreme views which, if carried out literally, would mean an abolition of the army and navy, the Government, even the State.'

--'The subject is too intricate for me,' I said; 'I give it up.'

--'At all events,' she replied, 'there being no socialistic party in Japan, as you say, is it not all the more strange that no cordiality seems to exist between Japan and the French Nationalists, whose notions and ideas resemble those of the Japanese.'

--'We can have no sympathy, still less concern, with any political aspiration of a section of other people as far as their domestic politics are concerned. But I do not see why the Japanese should not be willing to be friendly with the Nationalist section of the French people. Of late, the Japanese have not seemed to be _persona gratæ_ with your Nationalists, if there be any such section. But it is not our fault. They have shown through their partiality to our opponents much antipathy to Japan. It is another reason why the contrast between the Socialists and other sections of the French people has become, or rather, once became, so manifest as regards their attitude to my country.'

--'But the Nationalists are not enemies of Japan. In fact, it was the Nationalists who disapproved ten years ago the action of the Government, which joined in the combination of the three powers against Japan.'

--'Maybe,' I said, 'but the general tendency of that section, since the outbreak of the present war, has not been so favourable to us as you would have liked.'

--'But you must make some allowance for the fact that France is the ally of the other side.'

--'I do so, but the contrast in tone between different journals is so marked, and the papers which are most bitter against us, at one time were those reputed as the organs of the Nationalists.'

--'That may have been so,' said the duchess, 'and there have even been some which were rather misleading. I confess I was rather surprised when once asked by a member of a respectable family, "how it was that the Japanese were near Moukden, whilst we had been informed by the press all these months that the Russians had been constantly gaining victories." Probably that family happened to take in some exceptional journal, and perhaps only one. But you cannot read journalistic opinions only and regard them as the real views of the Nationalists. They have, in reality, very little influence over the papers; I wish they had more. Journals generally go their own way: I cannot and must not explain why. Besides, the socialist journals also have not been friendly to Japan from the very beginning. They became so only when the contrasts between the belligerents had become somewhat manifest. They were shrewd in the matter: the Nationalists were slow; one had to awake them.'

--'I was not here at that time,' said I, 'so I cannot offer any observation thereon. But, madam, is it too impertinent for me to ask if French interest in Russian bonds are much in the hands of Nationalists?'

--'Oh no,' answered the duchess. 'I wish they were; but you see our old families are not like those of some other countries. The interest of the Russian bonds mostly concerns petty people who have invested in them their hard-earned savings. It is, therefore, all the more unfortunate that the present war should be protracted.'

--'I envy France,' I said, 'that she has such a saving people: it is in consequence of this that she has, as I am told, some billions of surplus francs every year.'

--'That, I believe, is the case,' said the duchess.

--'As to the friendly relations between your country and mine, let us hope that a time happier than the present may arrive soon, and the sooner the better.'

--'I hope so, too,' said the duchess, 'and we must try to make it so.'