Part 7

--'Yes, our calendar at present is exactly the same as yours,' I answered. 'It used to be lunar, as is the Chinese, but it is now thirty-four years since we adopted the solar by a stroke of the pen, that is to say, by an edict of the Emperor. We thought in this world of cosmopolitanism that it was rather inconvenient for the different nations to have different calendars, and that it would be expedient to follow the example of the majority of the nations. We considered it a bold stroke of policy, but you see all such changes are made subjects of ridicule, and the Japanese are called mere imitators.'

--'Oh no, you go too far,' said another. 'No one ridicules Japan for that kind of change. It was excellent.'

--'And yet,' said I, 'all other changes are exactly the same in our eyes as that one.'

--'People are now beginning to understand Japan,' said she.

--'May be,' I said. 'I am very glad of it, but, you see, our calumniators even now make very unjust accusations against us, and still speak of us as monkeys. Since my arrival in Europe, not only have I noticed that these things have been written in newspapers, but I have myself received many letters of that kind. I cannot think what good they can do by sending me such letters and wasting stamps. I suppose they are but an infinitesimal part of the money spent for such purposes by our opponents. This very day, when I was coming out of the hotel, I received one of those letters: the postmark is Paris. I read it through on the way, and I have it still here. It is this: you may read it.'

So saying, I handed the letter to the lady, and she read it out as follows:

'MON CHER SINGE JAUNE,--Vous singes jaunes, voulez avoir beaucoup de pièces jaunes--travaillez--vous les aurez; mais avec votre tuerie--vous n'arriverez pas à les avoir--je vous assure. Fichez le camp--allez habiter aux Philipines. L'Europe et l'Amérique sont fermées aux singes jaunes sauvages. Vous martirisez chez vous les femmes! Votre meilleur homme Yoma (_sic_)--en a tué plusieurs. Vous êtes singes jaunes très méprisables--oh, bientôt l'or aura raison de vos hordes ... Souvenez-vous de mes singes. Singes jaunes sauvages dégoutants.

MISS NELLY.

'Qui ne vous aime pas: oh du tout....'

Finishing the reading, the lady exclaimed, 'What a shame!' in which all those listening joined.

Said I,--'The letter evidently refers to the question of indemnity. You see, it is written on a telegraph-form, and the article and the song, both equally disgusting, pasted purposely for me to read, are cuttings from Russophile papers: you can pretty well surmise from what source it came; the signature is also amusing!'

--'Shame!' they all exclaimed once more, but we all soon burst into laughter. When the laughter, whereby the peace of my dreamland had been a trifle disturbed, subsided, a lady present said:

--'You have a peculiar way of counting one's age, have you not? Has that anything to do with the calendar? Don't you say, for instance, a baby born the year before the last, three years old?'

--'Yes,' I answered, 'we still do so in ordinary conversation. But it has nothing to do with the calendar; it is only a matter of usage. You see the year in which one is born is counted as one year, and the year in which one is counting is counted as another, and therefore, a child born the year before last is reckoned as three years old. In the case of a dead person, the year in which he died is counted as one year; therefore, when you read of the age of our heroes or statesmen in history, you have always to take that into account. In former days, young ladies born late in the year used to complain to their mothers that they had a disadvantage in point of age. Young ladies like to minimise their age all over the world. Don't they?'

--'No joking, please.'

--'Very well! since the alteration of the calendar we have adopted your mode of reckoning for legal purposes, and we say in that case, "full so many years." It is therefore rather strange in actual society to hear people often speaking of so many years of age according to the new style, and so many years according to the old style.'

--'It must sound very odd. _Apropos_ of ladies, I adore Japanese ladies,' said a lady.

--'Ah! that's too much: surely you do not think so,' I remarked.

The lady just referred to was an American by birth, who came to France when a mere child, and having grown up in this country had married a Frenchman. The couple were out in Japan for many years. They had several children, the majority of whom were born there. She had resided in one of the most populous towns, her husband having been attached to a certain public function. She seemed not entirely to approve of the social condition of France.

--'France will be ruined by her women. Look, for instance, at the condition of Paris,' she said.

--'You jest. I imagine your ideal of women must be very different from ours,' I said.

--'No! Not at all,' she answered.

--'And yet,' said I, 'the question of the status of women is becoming more keen, far more keen in America than in this country. I have observed it in many writings.'

--'That's true, I dare say,' she said.

--'A little time ago,' I continued, 'I read an article describing the influence of American wives and daughters over their husbands and parents. I remember one instance mentioned in that article. The daughter of a well-to-do business man took a fancy to live in a town where she had been on a visit for a little time. She prevailed on her father to remove their home to that town. He did so, and the result was his total ruin in consequence of losing old customers and not obtaining new. The story may be a little exaggerated.'

--'No, it is quite possible,' she said. 'I like Japanese ladies and their children. The Japanese ladies I met with were so sweet and gentle and real models of women. I came to know them very intimately in this way. You see, in the town where I lived there is an association for the promotion of the mutual interests of France and Japan, the members being mostly Frenchmen. No lady was admitted into membership at first. I insisted on having it done. I was the first lady member. I induced many Japanese ladies to become members. The views I held were that mutual understanding could only be promoted by both sexes associating with each other. We found the innovation work very satisfactory. I often invited Japanese ladies to my home to spend an afternoon or evening. I usually caused them to bring their children, and made them play with mine. I did all this with as little ceremony as possible, because only by doing so can real friendship be brought about. I, of course, returned the visits and took my children with me. During that intercourse I naturally came to know a great deal about the Japanese ladies, and for that reason I think so much of them. They are real ideals of women. Perhaps a little more freedom for them might be good, but on the whole nothing more could be desired. Don't let them get spoilt by the evil influence of the West.'

--'I think I must reserve my remarks, either pro or con,' I said, 'but it is curious to notice what divergence of opinion there is relating to the condition of Japanese women. Perusing casually a book by Lafcadio Hearn a little time ago, I came across a passage where he speaks of Japanese women as being the most artistic objects, as it were, of the most artistic nation of the world, and laments that this perfection will be deteriorated by the influence of time. There is a lady of good birth in London whom I know very well, who admires Japanese ladies very much, though I am not quite sure that she herself would like to live like a Japanese lady. She told me that when the time came for her two boys to marry she would send them to Japan in order to be married out there. Her words may not have been mere passing compliments, for she has contributed to a monthly an article under the title of the "True Chrysanthemum," which pays a very high tribute to the Japanese women. On the other hand, however, few Occidentals know what the Japanese women are, and writers are not wanting who cast upon them sweeping condemnation. They even say that Japanese women know not what is chastity, and even that no such word exists in the Jananese language.'

--'What nonsense!'

--'Excuse me for pushing my remarks to such a point as this,' I continued, 'but you see I am so blunt in expression, and I cannot make my meaning plain unless I use such cut-and-dry phrases. In my own opinion, without any partiality for my own country, I think I can confidently say that chastity is far more practised in Japan than in any other nation.'

--'Hearn's books, which you have just mentioned, are charming,' said another lady. 'I have read some of them. They go, I think, a long way in contradicting those unfair charges.'

--'Yes, I think so too,' said I. 'But, you know, one tongue is nothing against a hundred, as we say. However that may be, he was a fine writer. It is sad that he died last year. He made, as he said, the study of the Japanese heart and thought his special subject. All his books, therefore, are concerned with some sort of Japanese psychology. They are generally so full of pathos and feeling that even Japanese readers are often moved to tears.'

--'Then you have read all his books. I should like you to give me the outline of them at your leisure,' she said.

--'I don't think that would be possible, because I don't know them all.'

--'But you have just now said "all his books," as though you knew all,' she said.

--'No!' I answered, 'I have not read _all_. I have seen most of the titles, and some pages here and there, and guessed all the rest. You see, nowadays, printing is comparatively so cheap and people are so fond of writing, and further, nine-tenths of the writers have their books printed at their own expense, so that the publishers run no, risk. If, therefore, one tries to read all books, one would become a mere bookworm and a good-for-nothing fellow. Once a compatriot of mine, when in Germany, was admitted into the study of a great professor. The four walls were covered with nothing but shelves of books. The professor said that all those books were sent to him by writers of all nations who were engaged in the same pursuits as himself. As a matter of fact he was a jurist, and all those books were on law. The visitor asked if he had read all of them, to which the professor answered "Yes." Thereupon he observed, "Impossible, you could not have had time to read them all." The professor then explained that the essential points of any book were all known to experts, so that a few pages on those points, which could easily be found by index, were sufficient to know all that was contained in a book. In that way, he said, "he read all the books which had come to him."'

--'What a joke!' said the lady. 'But what kind of man was he? I mean Mr. Hearn. His life seems to have been much in the clouds.'

--'So far as I am aware of,' said I, 'he was born in Lafcadi, one of the Ionian Islands, when it was under English occupation, having an Irish father, I believe, and a Greek mother. He passed his early years in England until he became a youth, when he went to America, where he remained until after the prime of life. He then went to Japan, and in course of time married a Japanese lady and became a naturalised subject there. So he was a regular cosmopolitan. He always occupied some position as teacher, and was much liked by his numerous pupils. His Japanese name was Koizumi Yakumo. Technically speaking, he caused himself to be adopted by the family of his wife, and so took their family name "Koizumi" for his surname, and Yakumo for his personal name, or, as you call it, Christian name.'

--'What you have just said somewhat strikes me,' remarked the lady. 'You have put the Christian name after the surname.'

--'Ah!' said I, that's a reasonable question. Perhaps you don't know that in Japan we put our family name first. That is to say Gambetta Léon instead of Léon Gambetta, if he were a Japanese. It is so with the Chinese; it is also so with the Hungarians. It is one of the proofs which the Hungarians produce as being descendants of the same stock as the Orientals. When, however, we are in Europe, or write with European letters, we generally reverse the order and make it agree with the European method. Well, unless we do that, we are liable to be called wrongly by having our names reversed, in such a fashio as Monsieur Léon, or Monsieur G. Léon, instead of Monsieur Gambetta, or Monsieur L. Gambetta. Such absurdities often occur in reality, and it is very inconvenient.

--'I see: that accounts for many discrepancies which exist in writing som well-known Japanese names, as I occasionally notice in books or papers written in a foreign language; but it is no use to refer to the Japanese by name, their names are too difficult for us to remember--it took me weeks to remember your name correctly.'

--'Just so,' I answered, 'It is equally difficult for us to remember European names. It is the reason why I do not recollect many people to whom I am continually introduced; to confess, I do not remember your name correctly. Russian names are particularly difficult to remember, not only to us Orientals, but to Anglo-Saxons, even to you, the French. Do you know that in England Rodjestvensky, before he became famous and well known, was called simply "Roj" very often, and aliens sometimes called him "Rotten-cheese-sky." Poor admiral! Witte is simple enough to remember. We Japanese remember and often write General Kuropatkin as Kurobato, that is to say, "black pigeon."

Of course, association is the best means of remembrance. We remember your words "Salle-à-manger" by _Sara-mongi_, that is, a "plate and written characters," and the English word "Minister" as _me-no-shita_, that is, "below the eyes." In fact, _me-no-shita_ is used very commonly in corrupt English at the open ports of Japan. _Frans-Me-no-shita_ is "French Minister," and _Igiris-Me-no-Shita_ is "English Minister." A dozen years ago there was in Japan an enterprising man who advertised that he had invented a good system of memory, and even opened a school. It was no other than remembering things by association, and I think there is a good deal in it. A little time ago, as you know, their Highnesses Prince and Princess Arisugawa were on a visit to Europe. Lord Lansdowne had great difficulty in remembering the name. Our _Me-no-shita_ in London asked him if there were not a Princess Alice in England, to which his Lordship replied "Yes." He then asked if there were not a street called "Gower Street," to which his Lordship similarly answered "Yes." Thereupon our minister said: "Very well, Princess Alice and Gower Street, that makes Arisugawa." After that his lordship, the Foreign Secretary of Great Britain, remembered the name of our Prince and Princess very well.'

--'That's all very well,' said she: 'but you mix up _r_ and _l_ altogether.'

--'That's true,' I answered, 'it is the weakest point for us in speaking European tongues. We cannot, or at least without the greatest difficulty, make any difference in pronouncing _r_ and _l_. Thus "right" and "light" become alike when we speak. It is very necessary to think of that fact when you talk with a Japanese. All this arises from the fact that in the Chinese and Japanese tongues there are not two different sounds of _r_ and _l_; those sounds in Japanese are more like your _ra_, _ri_, _ru_, _re_, _ro_, whilst they are _la_, _li_, _lu_, _le_, _lo_ in Chinese.'

--'I have noticed it very often,' she said, 'even while you talk you do the same. Your allusion to remembering things by association is very true; we do the same very often. But it often produces curious errors.'

--'True,' I said, 'I know a few instances. In Japan there is a kind of cloth, mostly used for négligées, called _Yukata_, a bath-cloth, so called because it was originally used after the bath. We call the "evening" _Yiukata_, the only difference being the "u" in one case being pronounced longer than in the other. We call "shower" _Yiudachi_. A European lady married to a Japanese appears to have tried to remember the bath-cloth by association. She went to a draper's and asked for a _Yiudachi_ (shower) in place of _Yiukata_ (evening). No one understood it. She was speaking of "shower" instead of "evening," the result of trying to speak by association. We have two ways of counting, and we call the number "ten" either _jiu_ or _to_. We have a certain kind of boxes which are made to fit one on top of the other, and only the topmost box has a lid. They are called _jiu-bako_, which means piling boxes. They are used in households very commonly. The same lady appears to have remembered that name by _jiu_, that is, ten of the number according to one of two ways, and _Hako_, a box. One day she called her servant to bring _to-bako_ instead of _jiu-bako_. The servants, of, course, did not understand her. The lady misused the association of counting ten in one way instead of the other.'

--'You said you had no difference between _r_ and _l_, but I suppose you have almost all sounds of our tongue.'

--'No,' I answered, 'we have not. We have, for instance, no sound of _f_ or _v_. In some parts of the country people pronounce _ha_, _hi_, _he_, _ho_ like _fa_, _fi_, _fe_, _fo_, but it is considered bad dialect. The want of _v_ and _f_ in our letters is a point of great difficulty in transcribing foreign words into our writing, but we employ a new method for doing so. On the other hand, our _h_ is pronounced very acutely. You say you have _h_ mute and _h_ aspirate, but in practice I never see, or rather hear, any aspiration at all. Hence, Count "Hisamatsu," our actual military attaché, is always called by the French, as he complains, "Isamatsu," which is not his Japanese name at all. This fact reminds me of a similar matter concerning our own Tokio. The genuine Tokio people generally pronounce _Hi_ as _shi_. It is curious, but it is a fact. This often causes comical mistakes to be made by servant-girls who are told by their mistresses to pronounce it correctly, for they often mix up and use _hi_ in place of _shi_ and _vice versa_. Mind! Tokio is the capital of Japan, but its language is not the purest of the Japanese language. The same holds good in London. It is rather strange for us to notice that in London the _h_ is so commonly misused. I once went to a master, or rather mistress, as she was a woman, of elocution, or at least she advertised herself as such, and she told me that one must be very careful not to be corrupted by the London patois, and that one must not say "am and hegg" for "ham and egg," but while she was telling me those things she herself was making an awful mangling of the _h_. No wonder! She was a pure Londoner. I went to her no more.'

--'That's too awful! She could not have been a well-educated woman, or you are telling us an exaggerated story.'

--'Maybe she was not well educated,' said I, 'but my story is a plain, naked fact. It is very difficult, I think, to get rid of colloquial corruption when once thoroughly imbued with it, even with all the aids of education. I can relate an incident bearing on the point. There is, in Japan, far away from Tokio, a district where people in common parlance can make no difference between _shi_ and _su_. Once I went to that district and gave a lecture to a large gathering of students belonging to the higher schools of the district. Seven or eight of the most capable students took down my speech, and a complete draft of it was made by them, the defective parts having been supplied by one from the other. It was published in the local papers. It was most perfect, as though taken by shorthand, except in one respect, and it was that _shi_ and _su_ had been intermingled, as though I had spoken in the local dialect. It seems that not only are they unable to distinguish the difference when they themselves speak, but also when they hear other people speak. It is a great drawback to the development of the district. The local authorities hire teachers from other districts and try to correct this defect, but with little success. The function of our ears is strange. Sounds which are quite distinct to some people are quite indistinct to others. Our music has not so high a variation of tune as the Western music, but it has sufficient variation to please our ears; but the Occidentals compare our music to the beating of a drum by a child--no tune and no variation, the reason being, I think, because our tunes and variations are quite inaudible to the Western ear. From the same point of view, crows or cows, and, indeed, all living animals have their own language, only our ears cannot distinguish the difference of their words one from another.'

--'Another pleasantry, I perceive,' remarked a lady. 'But tell me, baron, how do you pronounce the name of your great statesman, "Ito"? Is it pronounced like _a-i-t-o-_, that is to say, _i_ in the English way of pronouncing Ireland?'

--'No,' I said, 'like _a-i-t-o-_ without _a_, that is to say, _i_ in your own French way of pronouncing Ireland. I will once for all give you a good clue how to pronounce Japanese names, which you must come across very often nowadays in the newspapers. _I_ is pronounced always like _i_ in your _il_ or English _ill_. Our _E_ is always like _e_ in French "état" or "été." _G_ is always hard gutteral, that is to say, _ga_ like _g_ in "Gambetta," _ge_ like _ge_ in English "get," and _ge_ in German, and your _gue_. _Gi_ like _gi_ in the English "gift," and your _gui_ in "Guillaume," and, therefore, you must pronounce General "Nogi" like General "Nogui" in the French way, and not like "Noji" or "Nozi" as you generally do. Our _go_ is always _go_, in English "got," unless the _o_ is a long one as in Tôgô, and our _gu_ is always like a simple _g_ in Gladstone and Grant.'

--'But how do you then account for _u_?' interposed she.