CHAPTER VII

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A GLIMPSE OF SOCIAL LIFE IN JAPAN.

Extending our survey to Japan we come among a people who interest us greatly in many ways. Their dress is neat and picturesque, their personal appearance pleasing, and closer acquaintance makes us feel well-disposed towards these children of the Rising Sun. For they are very polite and show great solicitude towards the Western stranger, and do all they can for his comfort. We observe with sympathy, and perhaps a touch of amusement, their primitive simplicity of manners and habits, which are all the more piquant because of their naturalness. Their native genius has in recent years revealed itself in a ready apprehension of immediate circumstances and in an intelligent adaptability to new conditions, as well as in wise forethought. Their devotion to duty and disregard of self when the honour and interests of their country are at stake shone out brilliantly during the great conflict now happily ended. But this brief observation would be incomplete without mention of the animating and sustaining principle of their religion, Shintoism. Their child-like belief in a spirit-world where their ancestors are looking down upon them cannot fail to influence them for good in every thought and deed.

We must go back six hundred years for the earliest European mention of Japan. In 1298, Marco Polo, at the end of his long wanderings in eastern countries, found himself a prisoner at Genoa. The enforced leisure brought him the happy thought that he would put in writing an account of his experiences. Of Japan he says, ‘Zipangu is an island towards the East,’ and adds, ‘The inhabitants are civilized and well-favoured.’ But Europe had not yet awakened to the glorious career of conquest and commerce which fate had in store for her. Two and a half centuries later the Portuguese explorer, Fernao Mendez Pinto, while cruising in Eastern waters bound for Macao, was driven by storm on to the Japanese coast near Nagasaki. The people with whom he came in contact were friendly and willing to barter for such things as he had for disposal. Tidings of the place and the people and of the favourable reception accorded him were not long in reaching the Portuguese at Goa and the Spaniards at Manila, and vessels laden with merchandise were speedily on their way to the new and promising mart of commerce.

With the Spanish expedition of 1549 came the good and pious Jesuit, Francis Xavier, full of zeal, bent upon the conversion of the natives to the true faith. On their arrival at the port of Bungo they were received with open arms by a people who seemed to know no guile. So favourably was the good missionary impressed that he exclaims in the narrative of his sojourn among them,[4] ‘I have never found a nation among the infidels which has pleased me so much. They are men endowed with the best of dispositions, of excellent conduct, free from malice and gall. I know not when to have done when I speak of them. They are truly the delight of my heart.’ And there is abundant evidence, speaking of the deep impression the saintly Xavier and his colleagues made upon the receptive minds of the gentle Japanese. For these good men had come to them well provided with medicines, and were not unskilled in the treatment of disease. Their untiring labours among the sick and needy, their sympathy with the poor and destitute won all hearts, and gratitude spread their praises throughout the land. The wise Shogun, Iyeyasu, was not unobservant or unmindful of his people’s interests. Fully alive to the good work the strangers were doing he granted them permission to go where they pleased throughout his dominions. To the merchants also he granted similar privileges, allowing them to carry on unrestricted trade with the inhabitants. From the first the merchants had done well. As they unfolded package after package of their wares for inspection wonder waxed into childish delight, and the shredded leaves of the tobacco-plant which the sailors smoked in pipes was to these primitive people a revelation. Fancy pictures the little people taking to the new indulgence with an amused twinkle in the eye like youngsters just come into possession of a new toy. And here we come upon evidence, full and convincing, that before the arrival of the Portuguese and Spaniards tobacco was unknown in Japan. Testimony to the foreign origin of the plant is borne by the people themselves, who knew no name for it and readily adopted the West Indian word ‘tabaco.’ It is remarkable that this Carib name, with slight variations in the spelling, should have spread to every country.

The story of Europe’s early intercourse with Japan in regard to the conduct of both the Spaniards and Portuguese contains much that is painful and humiliating. For a few years the priests in the propagation of the gospel, and the merchants in their trade, prospered equally well. By-and-by it became too glaringly apparent for even the simplest of the natives to mistake that they were being deceived and robbed by the strangers. The first serious mischief began in 1597. Xavier had left Japan for China, and his just and accomplished coadjutors had been succeeded by a host of Franciscans, Dominicans, Augustine and other friars who had flocked in from Goa, Malacca, Macao and other Portuguese settlements, all of whom commenced their career by setting the Japanese laws and usages at defiance. Speaking of the foreign traders, an old writer declares that they were by dishonest means rapidly draining away the golden marrow of Japan. And the progress made in proselytising is shown in the fact that within a few years of their arrival there were in Nagasaki alone no fewer than twelve parish churches and several monasteries, presided over by a bishop. Merited retribution, stern and swift, came in 1616 with the accession to the Shogunate of Hidetada, and eventually ended in 1637 in the total expulsion of the Portuguese and Spaniards from Japan. It is noteworthy that the Dutch residents sided with the Japanese and gave of their best and bravest during the prolonged sanguinary conflict.

A gleam of brighter vision breaks upon the scene when we touch upon the period which brought the first Englishman to Japan. The story of the Elizabethan mariner, William Adams, in relation to the place and the people, does something to redeem Europe’s ill fame in that faraway land. He was a Kentish man, who, in his youth, had been apprenticed to a shipbuilder at Limehouse. At the end of the term he entered the Royal Navy as navigating officer. We next find him in his thirty-second year (1598) seized with an overmastering passion for foreign adventure. In the capacity of pilot-major he joined a Dutch merchant fleet of five vessels bound for the East Indies. Their course lay by way of Cape Horn, in rounding which stormy seas scattered the ships. Two were lost, two found their way back to Holland, the remaining one called the _Charity_ alone reached the far East. This latter was commanded by Adams. Tempest-tossed and worn-out, he, with his crew of twenty-four men were cast ashore on the Japanese island of Kiushiu, after a voyage which had lasted two years. He landed on Japanese soil on the 19th of April 1600, and in such a plight that out of a crew of twenty-four Adams, in one of his letters home, says, ‘There were no more than six besides myself that could stand upon their feet.’ They were taken to Osaka in order to give an account of themselves to the great Shogun, Iyeyasu. Adams speaks of the house in which the potentate dwelt as wonderful and costly, and gilded with gold in abundance. Called upon to declare his nationality and business he produced his charts and explained through an interpreter (doubtless a Portuguese), whence he had come, adding, ‘We are a people that seek friendship with all nations.’ The Portuguese, jealous of their interests in the island, represented the English and the Dutch as pirates living by plunder on the high seas, having no country of their own. At the close of the examination Adams was placed under arrest and detained thirty-nine days. He says that he was well treated. Something in his manner gained upon the Shogun; he gradually rose in favour, notwithstanding the efforts of his enemies to damage him and his country. Their motives were seen through; the sagacious Iyeyasu in a moment of exasperation declared that, ‘if devils from hell visited his country they should be treated like angels from heaven so long as they behaved like gentlemen.’ The Shogun was not slow in forming a just estimate of Adams. Indeed, his manly bearing and simple straightforwardness gained him friends among high and low. We next hear of him at Court teaching Iyeyasu the craft of shipbuilding, the outcome of which was the construction of two ships on the European model. Adams says, ‘Now being in such grace by reason, I learned him some points of geometry and the understanding of the art of mathematics, with other things. I pleased him so much that what I said he would not contrary.’ It is pleasant to read of this manly Elizabethan sailor coming into honours and wealth in this far-off country by sheer native honesty of purpose and scholastic attainments. His royal master raised him to the rank of Samurai, and bestowed upon him an estate at Phebe, near Yokosuka. Richard Cocks, a merchant adventurer and member of the East India Company, describes the place, and says that it consisted of ‘above one hundred farms or households, besides others under them, all of which are his vassals; and he hath power over them, they being his slaves; and he hath absolute power over them as any tono or King in Japan hath over his vassals.’ Needless to say that the feudal system was then in full force in Japan. To the end of his life Adams maintained the character which had earned him this responsible position. Let us hope that three centuries after Iyeyasu the Great the Japanese discern in our people something of the same steadfastness that in those early days won their good-will. William Adams stood thus in favour when in 1609 two armed Dutch ships put into the harbour of Denzin. The commander sought out Adams, and, reminding him of his former connection with the Dutch merchant service, claimed his good offices for the advancement of Holland’s commercial interests with Japan. No more was desired than a footing for trade such as had been granted to the Portuguese. So reasonable a request appealed to the fair-minded Englishman, and he readily gave his word to do what he could for them. Again the Portuguese interfered and denounced the Dutch as heretics and outlaws from Christendom, and altogether untrustworthy. This calumny, however, had no effect. Adams succeeded in obtaining the desired privilege. But the distrust of all Europeans, created by the artifice and unscrupulous dealings of the Portuguese, led the Shogun to restrict the Dutch to the port at which they had landed. They, however, established a factory at Firando. Mr. W. E. Griffis in his admirable history of Japan, commenting upon the influence of the Dutch in that country, says, ‘After a hundred years of Christianity and foreign intercourse the only apparent results of this contact with another religion and civilization were the adoption of gunpowder and firearms as weapons, and the use of tobacco and the habit of smoking.’

To round off the story of our countryman in Japan, it may be well to tell of the great yearning that came over him to return home to the wife and two children he had left at Limehouse. The Shogun, however, was loth to part with him, and his appeals for leave to do so, made, he says, ‘according to nature and conscience,’ were put off from time to time. When at last permission was granted, circumstances had arisen which prevented acceptance. Adams, however, was not unmindful of the interests of his native country. His desire to get into communication with England is shown in a letter which he addressed as follows:

‘To my unknown friends and countrymen, desiring this letter by your good means, or news, or copy of this, may come into the hands of one or more of my acquaintances in Limehouse, or elsewhere, or in Kent, in Gillingham by Rochester.’ His description of Japanese character might have been written to-day, so well does it accord with our present knowledge of the inhabitants of the Great Britain of the East. Adams says, ‘The people of this Island of Japan are of good nature, courteous above measure, and valiant in war; their justice is severely executed without any partiality upon transgressors of the law. They are governed in great civility: I mean not a land better governed in the world by civil policy.’ In October, 1611, he addressed a letter to ‘The Worshipful Company of London Merchants,’ urging them to send merchandise to the ports of Japan. In the simple words of a sailor he tells them that he is a ‘Kentish man, born in a town called Gillingham, two English miles from Rochester and one mile from Chatham, where the Queen’s ships do lie.’ Before the letter reached them they had heard through the Dutch of Adams and his position in Japan, and had sent him letters, advising him of their intention to despatch goods to Japan. In April, 1612, three English vessels laden with merchandise, and commanded by Captain John Saris, sailed from the London Docks for the far East. They arrived at Bantam (Java) in October of the same year. How little time was reckoned with in those days is shown in the circumstance that Saris thought well to remain at Bantam until the beginning of the following year, knowing all the while that he bore a letter from King James to the Emperor of Japan. He sailed in the _Clove_ with a crew of seventy, and sighting the coast near Nagasaki, he, two days later, anchored in the haven of Firando. Here Adams met him and arranged for a visit to the Shogun, who was then at Sumpu. Thither they repaired, accompanied by a Japanese interpreter and two followers. They carried with them presents to the value of 720 dollars for Iyeyasu and the State officers. They started on their journey on the 7th of August, and arrived at their destination on the 6th of September. On the 8th they had an audience of the Shogun, to whom they delivered the English King’s letter for the Emperor. They were graciously received, and Iyeyasu in return sent to King James five screens and a letter for His Majesty, conveying a free licence to English subjects to enter any of the ports of Japan for trade purposes. Thus was established in the year 1613 the first treaty of commerce between England and Japan.

In the midst of all these things our hero had met with a fair damsel in Japan with whom he mated, and who bore him a son and a daughter—Joseph and Susanna. And, to complete the romance, we are told that there are to-day Japanese who pride themselves on being able to trace their descent from this Elizabethan mariner whom the greatest of their Shoguns loved to honour.[5]

In Japan, however, as in other countries into which the Indian weed had been introduced, it was not allowed to take root and flourish unopposed. Protests, strong and loud, were got up by the old-fashioned folk against the new-fangled indulgence from the ‘Nanban’—country of the southern barbarians. So strenuously did they proclaim it to be the ‘fool’s plant,’ the ‘poverty weed,’ the ‘barbarian’s herb,’ that at last they won over the Shogun to their side. In 1612 he issued an edict forbidding his subjects to either use tobacco or to plant seeds of it. It is curious to notice how, in this remote region, the witchery of the weed set good men and true warring over its virtues or vices on exactly the same lines as were being fought over at the same time in England, and in each case with a precisely similar result. Like the historic _Counterblaste_ of our British Solomon and the fulminations of two popes, their efforts to put out the pipe were unavailing. Indeed, as usually happens in conflicts of the kind, opposition begat opposition, till at last the will of the many triumphed over the prejudice and power of the few. The people had tasted the forbidden leaf and liked it so well that each offered to share with his neighbour the pleasure and, if need be, the punishment attached to the indulgence. So in course of time the edict died a natural death, and was decently buried under a mild ceremonial wherein the Shogun enjoined his loving subjects to be careful and not let themselves be seen smoking outside their houses. Rein, in his _Industries of Japan_, says of this edict, ‘of all the laws of the Tokugawa rule probably none has proved so ineffectual as the edict of 1612 against the smoking and planting of tobacco.’

The earliest native record of tobacco is found in an old family chronicle of an eminent physician named Saka, of Nagasaki; it is dated 1605, and runs as follows: ‘In this year tobacco was brought in ships of the Nanban people, and was shown near Nagasaki; it was known in Bungo (the Portuguese settlement) from the beginning and in Sasuma’—a district noted to this day for the superior quality of its tobacco. A further note on the subject occurs two years later, 1607, and is to the effect that, ‘of late a thing has come into fashion called tabako; it is said to have originated out of the Nanban, and consists of large leaves which are cut up, and of which one drinks the smoke.’ In the same record incidental allusion is made to the supposed medicinal properties of the Indian weed, a notion derived from the natives of America and propagated in Europe with much insistence by Jean Nicot. The writer is never weary of chronicling the fact that, ‘a thing has been coming out of the Nanban called tabako, with which all classes of Japanese regale themselves. It is said to be a cure for all diseases; but, notwithstanding this, some people have got sick through drinking the smoke. Now, since no medical work contains directions for the treatment of such patients, no medicine for their relief could be offered them.’

The distinguished writer, Kaibard, protested loudly against the barbarian novelty; he compares it with tea and with saké—a beer made from rice—and roundly condemns tobacco-smoking, saying, that far from yielding benefit to anyone it injures the consumer in many ways. It is not worth while, he considers, to chide the common people for smoking, but he expresses surprise and indignation that gentlemen and superior persons should take pleasure in a custom imported from over the seas and taught them by strangers. On the other hand, a learned treatise called ‘Ensauki,’ translated by Sir Ernest Satow, enumerates some of the excellences discovered in the weed. These are:

(1) It dispels the vapours and increases the energies.

(2) It is good to produce at the beginning of a feast.

(3) It is a companion in solitude.

(4) It affords an excuse for resting now and then from work, as if in order to take breath.

(5) It is a storehouse of reflection, and gives time for the fumes of wrath to disperse.

But on the other hand are objections to its use such as the following:

(1) There is a natural tendency to hit people over the head with one’s pipe in a fit of anger.

(2) The pipe comes sometimes to be used for arranging the burning charcoal in the hibacki.

(3) An inveterate smoker has been known to walk among the dishes at a feast with the pipe in his mouth [the dishes resting on mats ranged along the floor].

(4) People knock the ashes out of their pipes while still alight and forget to extinguish the fire; hence clothing and mats are frequently scorched by burning ash.

(5) Smokers spit indiscriminately in the hibacki, foot warmers, or kitchen fire; also, in the crevices between the tatami which covers the floor.

(6) They rap the pipe violently on the edge of the fire-pot.

(7) They forget to have the ash-pot emptied till it is full to overflowing.

It is easy to see how pointed admonitions such as these, thrown broadcast upon Japanese smokers, would yield a handsome crop of good manners. The Japanese are, and have always ranked among, the foremost of polite people—a grace natural to their fine sensibility. Rather than hit his friend over the head with his pipe in a fit of temper, the valiant Japanese will put his fingers into the burning hi-ire in order to change the venue of his annoyance. A trait of their child-like character comes well into view in a story told of one, Oka, a famous judge, whose book of anecdotes and wise decisions Sir Ernest Satow has rendered into English. The work is entitled _Oka Inseidan_, and the story is of,

‘THE THEFT OF THE GOLDEN PIPE.’

Once upon a time a wealthy man was the happy owner of a rich and rare kiseru (tobacco pipe) made of silver, inlaid with gold and precious stones. It happened on one occasion, after calling to his servants to bring him the tobacco-bon that he might indulge in a breath of fragrance from his treasured kiseru, that he was told the pipe was gone, and no one knew whither. Search was made for it high and low, in likely and unlikely places, but all in vain. Then did they remember their renowned Oka, the wise. They appealed to him for counsel, and made him acquainted with the cause of their grief. He, shrewd man, questioned the household, and on learning that a poor fellow living in the neighbourhood had been seen smoking a pipe of great value he found out the truth respecting it in the following ingenious manner. But here, in order to better understand the story, it will be well to explain the Japanese method of smoking. It is the custom of each smoker to roll the tobacco between his fingers into a ball of the exact size required to fit the bowl of the pipe, so that when turning the pipe sideways to light it at the live charcoal it should not fall out; after every two or three whiffs a fresh ball is introduced. The smoker will thus occupy himself by the hour listlessly making fresh ones while he smokes, utterly oblivious it may be to what he is doing, but from constant practice his nimble fingers with automatic precision invariably makes the tiny ball of the size needed to fix it securely in the bowl. And now, let us hearken to the words of Oka, and learn of the sage how he recovered the lost pipe and brought the culprit to justice. ‘Unseen by the suspected one, I found out a way of watching him while seated on his mat idly toying with a pipe. Snugly hidden behind a paper screen I made slits in it for my eyes, for thought I, if the pipe be not his own he will make up tobacco balls too large or too small to fit the bowl, then shall I know the truth. Thus ensconced, peering through the holes I had made for my eyes, I beheld in the man’s hands a pipe of surpassing beauty. I saw that he took from his tobacco-pouch some shreds of the weed and rolled them up, and in blissful ignorance of other eyes than his own to see and admire his chased kiseru he caressingly handled it, and fed it with the pabulum of peace. But when he bent forward to the brazier and turned the bowl on one side to catch a light from the live coal the little ball of tobacco fell out—it was too small for the bowl! Again and again this same thing happened.’ Then did Oka reveal himself to the already convicted felon and charge him with the theft, saying, ‘Had the pipe been thine own, O son of infamy, long and constant usage would have taught thy fingers to make up the tobacco balls of the size needed to fit the bowl.’ This process of reasoning was conclusive. The culprit was taken before the tribunal of justice and punished according to the enormity of his offence. That no shadow of unworthy doubt may rest upon the seat of wisdom, the veracious chronicler adds, that when the unhappy man was formally charged with the crime, he, with deep humility confessed his guilt; whereupon the judge restored to the rightful owner the lost golden pipe, and the fame of Oka, the wise spread throughout the land.

[Illustration: A JAPANESE PIPE.]

To-day the smoking of tobacco in Japan is universal; so completely has the practice entered into the daily habits of Japanese life that high and low, rich and poor—and of both sexes—have come to look upon the introduction of the tabako-bon—containing all their curious smoking apparatus—on the occasion of the arrival of a visitor, as a social function which could not be neglected without giving offence. Even in the poorest man’s house the tobacco tray, with its fire-pot and ash-pot, is an essential part of the furniture. Visit the humblest abode and there will be placed before you all the tiny equipment for a smoke; but their weed is almost tasteless; certainly, it can do nobody any harm. Formerly the tiny cup of tea was always the prelude to social gossip; now, however, for some reason or other the pipe takes precedence of the cup. Surely a wise choice, for in the pipe he had found a soother of the ruffled frame, calming the unruly member which the tea-cup sets free to dilate with eloquence on the virtues—or their opposite—of the dear absent ones; helping the fair devotee to unbosom herself of old confidences too heavy to be longer borne, and to form new and undying friendships—till the next tea meeting. Assuredly, wherever Eve’s daughters congregate there will the tea-pot—the genius of quickened sensibilities—be the favourite fetish.

[Illustration: QUEEN ELIZABETH.]

Let us take a peep at a reception, an ‘At Home,’ where a dark-eyed daughter of Japan reposes luxuriantly on a carpet of many colours. By her side is an arm-rest, and a gorgeous screen adorned with wondrous figures in prismatic hues protects her from obtrusive view. Two English ladies are her visitors; they are ushered through a long corridor, covered with thick matting of a fine texture, into the reception hall. Passing into a large well-proportioned room, they are agreeably surprised with the simplicity and tasteful character of the furniture, which consists of a row of small lacquer tables and chairs, placed at intervals of a few yards; by the side of each chair is a large bronze urn of ornamental design, filled with symmetrically shaped pieces of glowing charcoal. Raising the eyes to the walls they see that these are covered with a heavy yet delicate paper artistically painted with birds and flowers; and the wainscoting, panels and window-frames, are of a highly polished black lacquer. Over all there seems to hang a drowsy luxurious atmosphere, quite in keeping with the old-world ease and courtly manners of their truly polite hostess. Meanwhile female servants have noiselessly placed before them the tabako-bon, upon which rests a gold-dotted lacquered case, delicately made of leather-paper; it is about eighteen inches long, and twelve broad, and stands the height of three fingers. On the removal of the lid the first things which strike the eye are three chased little tobacco-pipes, each enclosed in a silk lined case, which in form so nearly resembles the _calausilia_ that it is called the kiseru-gai—pipe snail. The bowl of the pipe is a fairy-like thing of the size and shape of an acorn-cup, and is of finely wrought silver; the stem, about six inches long, is of thin lacquered bamboo, and the mouthpiece is of brightly polished metal. The pouch holding the tobacco is also of stamped leather, and is finely decorated with lacquer and silver work. But the tobacco is something wonderful; though an exotic of the genus _nicotina-tobacum_ of America, it has cast off its native characteristics and become a light-coloured delicate weed, which lissome fingers have cut into flossy shreds as fine as gossamer and as soft as cocoon silk. As the usages of polite society in Japan require that the visitors should smoke while chatting, the hostess taking a few shreds of the weed between her fingers and rolling them up into pellets to fit the tiny bowls urges her guests to join in the grateful pastime. One of the ladies, however, declines the proffered pipe, saying, ‘Arigato, tabako-o nomimasen,’ (thank you, I don’t drink tobacco) at which the hostess with wondering eyes asks if she is under a vow! She thinks that ladies everywhere smoke; that to do so is a binding rule of the unwritten law of social intercourse. But on the other guest accepting a pipe, saying, ‘tabako-o nomimas,’ (I drink tobacco) the charming hostess nods and laughs, and with her own delicate fingers tries her best to light the pipe with an English match, and only after repeated attempts can she accomplish the difficult feat. While thus occupied a sprightly, intelligent, little gentleman enters, and is introduced as the husband of the hostess. He is brimful of Western ideas, and readily joins his wife in ceaseless questions concerning England and the English; more particularly he seeks information about the habits, manners and government of the country; for he is most anxious to learn whether what he has just heard in the city is really true, namely: that in England no gentleman is allowed to smoke in the presence of a lady without first obtaining her permission. He cannot credit it, but he explains that the question is greatly perturbing men’s minds in Japan. It is feared that if this Western custom should spread and take root amongst them, men’s authority over women would be gone; certainly their pre-eminence would be seriously imperilled. The visitors try to reassure him. They tell him that as a rule gentlemen do pay this deference to ladies out of considerations of delicacy, as behoves men towards women, as well as from a chivalric regard for ladies generally. But this was a line of argument he seemed unable to follow; he was dominated with the idea that the custom if adopted in Japan would be the thin end of the wedge which ultimately would sever men from their proper control over their wives and women-folk generally. With a countenance expressive of perplexity and dismay he foretold of endless domestic storms issuing from the fuming pipe. It was not without amusement that the English ladies witnessed this curious reflex of a Western spectre which a few idle people have raised for their diversion, and it required some effort to suppress their feelings. They did their best, however, to smother the emotion; but the spectacle presented to their imagination of wives boxing their husbands’ ears for daring to smoke in their presence without leave, and all the varied scenes of the battle of the pipes fought over the domestic hearth, was too much for them. Warming to the subject the bellicose little gentleman exclaimed, ‘The enemy outside our gates we can grapple with and overthrow, but a Western idea, and a fickle one like this, who can seize and vanquish? I have myself but recently suffered through this innovation, but it shall be the last time.’ And he so far forgot his native politeness as to declare that he would smoke when and where he pleased, and if the ladies did not like it they might leave the room. He added, ‘I do so in virtue of my right as a man. The assumed right of the women in Europe to determine whether a man may smoke or not is an unwarrantable licence, and is all put on in order to bring men under their authority in other and more important affairs; in any case, it subtracts from the power of men, and there can surely be no reason in this, as it involves limitations to their authority which must inevitably provoke confusion and conflict. I can find no reason for making distinctions—for smoking before men and not before women when it is not a thing forbidden by law or morals.’ The ladies endeavoured to soothe the ruffled feelings of their irate host; they assured him that nothing is farther from the thoughts of intelligent gentlewomen than the folly of trying to subvert the order of nature; that the deference paid to ladies in such matters by their kinsmen is the outcome of good breeding, and it is always appreciated in that sense. ‘There are a few women, perhaps, who having much time and little to do make it their hobby to cry out for the unattainable, and whom the gods may some day punish by giving them what they crave for; but these women are of no account in the general estimate of the sum of Western domestic life; their voices are loud, but their judgment is weak. On the other hand, there are in Europe ladies of the highest rank who, out of pure love of doing good, devote the best part of their lives and fortunes to the noble purpose of relieving the needs of the destitute, and raising the lowly and suffering into better estate. Little room then for wonder that Englishmen are proud to do them honour.’ Though appeased in some measure, he was not wholly convinced that danger was not somewhere lurking in their alluring argument. Let it be noted, however, that young Japan is outgrowing such apprehensions; he is no longer restive under the restraints imposed upon his primitive habits, and his conception of the relationship of the sexes is in accord with European ideas. Western ideas, indeed, are his ideas; and, he shows how fully he recognises the superiority of European civilization, by equipping himself with all the most destructive engines of warfare.

Like the workmen of the busy cities, the Japanese peasant carries with him wherever he goes his pipe and tobacco-pouch slung to his obi, a bright-coloured girdle, made usually of a peculiar kind of silk interwoven with flowers. They hang behind, suspended from a silken cord fastened to the obi by means of a netzuke—a sort of carved button made of cornelian or agate. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, their peculiar smoking apparatus does not lend itself readily to indulgence while at work or when walking. To enjoy the solace of the weed, the smoker must squat on the ground and array his smoking utensils in order; but this little drawback seldom hinders him. When the desire for the pipe comes upon him it must be appeased; and is it not written in the learned _Ensauki_ that the pipe ‘affords an excuse for resting now and then from work, as if to take breath?’ Certainly, the intelligent Japanese never suffers an opportunity to pass unimproved by rest and reflection over the vapour of his beloved pipe as it ascends on high, mingling with the pure breath of heaven; while possibly the lingering ashes suggest to his contemplative mind the mutability of all things earthly—for who can price for another the thing which his soul valueth?

Passing along the unbeaten tracks of Japan the wayfarer from the West occasionally comes upon picturesque scenes of peasant life of a character which combines primitive simplicity of manners with something of the art and refinement of what we are accustomed to associate with advanced civilization, but which with them springs from a gentle, susceptible nature, always kindly, but quick to resent affront. Turning into a roadside inn he may meet with a party of well-to-do peasants on their homeward way from the market of a neighbouring town, and observe with quiet amazement the public exhibition they make over the bath; they are very fond of bathing, but in their manner of using the tub they have views peculiar to themselves. Fish and rice are in large demand, and of these, with a plentiful supply of vegetables, they make a hearty meal. After dinner tiny cups of tea are served to each guest by dark-eyed damsels whose appearance recalls to memory the nursery pictures of our childhood representing our first parents in the garden of Eden. When the candles are brought in smoking and story-telling follow till bed-time. Then, spreading blankets on the floor, and with a block of wood hollowed to fit the head for a pillow, they are soon on their way to the land of Nod, announcing their arrival in a fine symphony of cracked bassoons.

As everybody smokes in Japan the rate of consumption per head of the population is considerably greater than with us. And shops for the sale of tobacco and all its accessories are to be seen in every street in the big towns, and in every village which has shops at all; even along the country roads there are stands where all these things can be had for the merest trifle. On the sign the tobacconist exhibits to denote his vocation is painted a leaf of the plant, and by the side there are two hieroglyphics which are understood to intimate that he keeps only the best tobacco, procured from the famous kokubu in the Osumi district. The name bears a significance similar to that of Virginia with us. But the taste of the weed grown in this favoured district is not such as commends itself to English smokers; it is too sweet, and on this account is but little exported to Europe. It is used here for mixing with other kinds of a more pungent character: French tobacco would be all the better for the admixture. But to do this in France, where the cultivation, manufacture and sale of tobacco is a Government monopoly, would perhaps interfere with the public revenue.

The Japanese method of raising crops of tobacco, of curing and manufacture, is in all essentials similar to that of other countries where tobacco-culture is a staple industry. The seed-beds of the young plants are protected against too great cooling from radiation on spring nights by straw roofs about a metre high. Towards the end of April, in the warmer districts, the shoots are strong enough to be transplanted into the open fields, where they are placed in rows usually along the sides of crops of barley which by this time has passed its bloom. In cooler districts this operation is delayed until June. But, as tobacco-culture is widely spread throughout the islands, the seasons for planting and reaping necessarily differ according to the varying temperatures of this plutonic region of sulphurous springs and earthquakes. Besides the pleasure of smoking, the Japanese, like ourselves, have found many uses for tobacco. For destroying insects on plants, nothing is so effectual as dosing them with a liberal decoction of the juice. Like all other orientals the Japanese have to wage perpetual warfare with those plagues of the flesh that invade every house. In order to check their ravages, he places leaves of the plant in crevices where they usually hide in ambush against the hour for making their nocturnal attack. Mosquitoes, too, are numerous, hungry, and of good size, but in the magic breath of the weed he has found a potent spell which soon overcomes the enemy and lays him low. All he finds it needful to do, is simply to seat himself on his mat in his toy-like house and enjoy the double pleasure of knowing that he is vanquishing the foe while puffing his wee pipe and twirling up pellets to fit the thimble-like bowl. He has discovered, too, that Saint Nicotine is a dispenser of other inestimable blessings. As a healer of many maladies—cutaneous affections, some forms of eye disease, and other like disturbers of a tranquil life—he believes in her implicitly, and lotions made of the juice extracted from the leaves of the plant are in almost daily use among the poorer classes.

Young Japan having entered with a light heart and buoyant into the stream of European life no longer cares for the old ways of his fathers, and finds his chosen smoke in the new paper cigarette fashioned in the Western world. Of these he partakes so liberally that many millions are imported every year, the total value of which, according to the Consular Report, comes to about £40,000. To such proportions has the tobacco industry grown that in Osaka (the Manchester of Japan) no fewer than forty factories provide remunerative employment for thousands of work-people—chiefly women and girls. In 1895 Japan exported close upon three million pounds weight of tobacco, the estimated value of which was £23,466. Under the influence of an overmastering passion to mould their institutions on the model of those of Europe, the Government have thought well to lay hands upon the tobacco industry; henceforward it is to be a Government monopoly. Referring to the _Japanese Budget_ of 1897-8, Sir Ernest Satow, in the Diplomatic and Consular Report on Trade and Finance for the fiscal year 1897-8, discusses the question. The Bill was passed in the session of 1896, and the monopoly is to come into force at the beginning of 1898. The principle of the scheme is, that tobacco grown in Japan shall be delivered in the leaf to the Government at a fixed rate. The Government will then sell it to the manufacturers at rates which will ensure substantial relief to the depleted exchequer, to the extent, possibly, after all expenses of collection, etc. are met, of about half a million sterling. The annual yield of the tobacco fields of Japan is estimated at 90,000,000 lbs., its market value of £90,000, and the gross revenue therefrom at £1,000,000. Here Sir Ernest Satow’s incisive criticism comes into play. He shows that to realize this sum a tax of over 100 per cent. must be levied, and that this would bring up the price to the consumer to double what it is now. He points out that tobacco leaf can be imported into Japan at 10c. per lb., add to this the import duty, namely 35 per cent., and the result will be that the Government will try to sell its tobacco at 21⅑c. and this, too, in face of the fact that imported tobacco can be sold for 13.5c. per lb. There is a further important consideration telling against the Government scheme, namely: that as the tobacco intended for exportation does not come under the monopoly the producer can send his unmanufactured leaf out of the country, have it prepared for use and brought in again ready for the retail dealer, and still compete successfully with the Government. Sir Ernest adds that, ‘Were the simple system adopted, in operation in England, of warehousing, it is estimated that with the same tax a revenue of at least £1,000,000 could be obtained.’ The monopoly scheme was severely criticised in the Senate, and it was thought that it would be amended, but up to the date of Sir Ernest’s report nothing had been done in this direction.

The marvellous transformation which has taken place in Japan within the last thirty-five years has hardly left a vestige behind of the old order of things which so charmed the eyes of the stranger from the West. Even in the remote villages the peasantry, as if ashamed to be themselves, are entering upon new paths and disguising their primitive habits of social life under the garb of Western modes and manners. The graceful native costume is supplanted by the distortions of dress which the caprice of art sends forth from Paris as if to render humanity ridiculous. It is not a pleasing sight to look upon Japanese ladies enduring torture in their efforts to accommodate themselves to Western fashion and finery. And the men, skewered up in sombre broad-cloth, lose the ease and dignity which by nature’s gift is theirs. Would it not be well, while gathering the fruits of old European culture, for this Eastern people to preserve their native habits, works and ways, all those things which are the natural product of their race and climate? Of course, in commerce, the observance of the eternal verities, as Carlyle would say, forms the basis of all healthy and lasting good.

There is, however, one cheerful sign in the present-day habits of this most interesting people: through all the toils and vicissitudes of their new and exalted path in life they resolutely keep the pipe aglow, mindful of the wise words of the _Ensauki_ that in the vapour of the fragrant weed is a storehouse of reflection where the fumes of anger are suffered to disperse.

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