A Fantasy of Far Japan; Or, Summer Dream Dialogues

by Kencho Suematsu

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

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

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

'Kokoro dani makoto no michi ni kanai naba
Inorazu totemo kami ya mamoran.
(If only one's thoughts be in accord
With the way of truthfulness,
Deity will protect him, though he may not pray.)

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

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

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

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

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

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