They gave me a lovely granite hill with clustering rosy flowers growing round its base—all 6 inches square—and we admired together the wet pine leaves in the garden.
March 2.—Fossil-cutting all day; a very nice dance in the evening after dinner with the P——s, where I spent the night.
March 3.—The Dolls’ Festival. Mr. Mj—— and his three little girls have a very gorgeous collection; the dolls, however, are far too exalted for any child to play with them. The Mj——s must literally have hundreds of these expensive little miniatures of the Emperor and Empress in the old-style garments, of historical and mythological figures, of musicians and actors from the Nō—all of whose dress is a wonder of design and execution. Then there were all the household utensils in tiny lacquered form, and on the little trays and dishes was real food arranged, as well as large models of fish in sugar. There was even a little temple, with most of the appointments correct. A large room was given over to them, and looked like a bazaar, but the arrangement was not merely chosen to display the detail, it was all according to prescribed rule—the Emperor and Empress on the top shelf, with their jingling elaborate head-dresses and long silk tassels on their many robes; below them the musicians; on the lowest shelf the tray of food, the little houses, screens and fans in inexhaustible variety. The children are provided with special sweet food which they themselves eat, the crisp sweet “puffed” rice, sweet blocks of jelly and sugar concoctions of many kinds. The guests were also provided with these dainties, and some of them were delicious, but I could not drink the sauce-like saké.
In the evening there was our inaugural dinner of the London University Union in Japan. I found there was quite a number of old U.C.L. students in Japan, and so started the idea, which was very keenly taken up by Professor S——; others joined in, Baron K——, Professor S——, Professor F——, Professors L——, S——, etc. etc., up to the number of twenty-one, are members, and the first dinner was quite a success. Professor S——, Baron K—— and I form the Committee elected then, and I hope the Union will live. Cambridge and Harvard, etc. all have their Unions, why should London be less honoured and remembered by her children?
March 4.—A long day at fossils.
March 5.—Fossils till 4—then I went to tea with Mrs. D——. She had invited the American Ambassadress and her niece to meet me, and I liked them both. The former is very like a slightly slimmer and handsomer Miss S—— of Wintersdorf! Mrs. D—— had another lovely frock, and was a dream of sweetness and beauty. Why do I always fall in love with women!
March 7.—Fossils all day till 4.30, then to tea with Dr. H—— and his wife, recently married and very cordial; they live in a really tiny Japanese house, no room more than six mats, but so spick and span, with a dear little garden. Though I have done my best to teach that man how to treat a wife—and he always seemed to be drinking it in quite properly—she herself brought the tea for us two, taking none herself (I know she has a maid), and sitting in the corner away from us, and not even taking a cushion to sit on, when he had been shamed into giving her one by my remarking that she had none. However, they seem happy, and she looks quite well, and she has not a soul quivering with every touch of the material things of life. She says he loves her very much, and has loved no other woman.
March 8.—To-day I visited the sick. Poor Mrs. G—— was riding in a kuruma a week ago and the Embassy carriage ran into her, knocked the kuruma to pieces, and the horse fell on Mrs. G—— and rolled over! How she escaped fearful injuries no one knows, but a muscle is severed and she can’t walk just now. She looked very pretty in bed, and was holding quite a court. Horses in Japan are really dangerous and constantly run away.
I called my duty call on Baroness H—— after the luncheon party, and the conversation did not flag, though what she thought of my Japanese (the horrors of which I am daily realising more acutely) I don’t know, as she held it under with her fine native politeness.
I have read two interesting books this week—Lieutenant Sakurai’s Human Bullets and As the Hague Ordains, the supposed journal of the wife of a Russian prisoner who comes to him in Japan, and is gradually converted to love the Japanese. The first book was rather a shock to all one’s preconceived notions about the unflinching bravery and repression of feelings among the Japanese soldiers! They were either weeping or embracing each other or writing sentimental letters—on every other page. I was quite sick of all their tears and self-adulation, though the writer gave a vivid picture of the ghastly carnage of the siege of Port Arthur. Yet people praise the book and don’t seem to notice the sentimentality as much as I do. I wonder if those who praise it have read it.