Part 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he goes on to quote from the author:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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